The guard must have caught a blur of motion in his peripheral vision. He ducked an instant before the steel would have connected with his temple. The bowl sailed past him and clattered noisily onto the floor. The guard spun from the waist and aimed his gun at Jordan. He got off a shot that splintered the concrete near Jordan’s leg.
Jordan rolled twice, and two more shots fired.
CHAPTER 46
The moment the guard burst into the autopsy area, the carjacking incident came into sharp focus. Julie’s immediate instinct was to grab something for self-defense. The closest thing to her was the scalpel, which she stashed in the pocket of her lab coat. While Julie’s heart shook with fear, her mind stayed sharp as she gave the guard what sounded like a plausible explanation.
“I’m a doctor … I work here … this is my assistant…”
A flash of the official Suburban West badge should have been enough to send him away. But this was no ordinary security guard. He was here on a mission. When he pointed the gun at her, Julie thought she saw murder in his eyes. Julie’s mind reeled with unanswered questions. How did he know those details about her life? How did he know they would be in the autopsy suite?
The answers would have to wait. The bowl Jordan tossed might not have found a target, but it created enough of a distraction for Julie to get the scalpel into her hand. As the guard fired his gun at Jordan, Julie raised her arm and brought it down in a sweeping arc. The scalpel’s steel blade penetrated the guard’s muscled shoulder to the handle and pushed deep enough into flesh to stick upright even after she let go. The guard howled in rage.
A look of pure terror stretched across Julie’s face. She whirled in the direction of the morgue and took off running.
* * *
BITCH, STABBED me.
Lincoln Cole was seething. The reservations he had about committing two more murders were gone now. It had not occurred to him that Julie might have armed herself. The oversight was almost unforgivable. This whole episode was supposed to be a simple two-shot deal, followed by a frantic phone call to his supervisor to report the incident. Helluva first day you had, son. Lincoln had met the head of security, Bert Stone, an hour before the start of his first shift. He did not know the old-timer at all, but imagined it was something his new boss might say.
Helluva first day.
Lincoln suppressed the urge to shoot Julie as she ran. Forensics would have no trouble telling the difference between entry and exit wounds, and it would be hard to argue self-defense if the doc had potholes in her back. Lincoln took off after Julie, thinking he would catch her in three strides, four at the most.
He left the blade in his shoulder, prioritizing Julie over its removal. He reached with his free hand and seized the back of Julie’s lab coat as it billowed behind her like a flapping cape. He tightened his grasp and gave a hard yank.
Julie’s feet continued forward while the rest of her traveled in reverse. She went airborne a moment before gravity plunged her to the unforgiving concrete floor with a thud. Her skull made a notable sound when it made contact. Dazed from the blow to the head, Julie lay on the floor, gasping for breath, the air knocked out of her lungs.
Lincoln eyed Julie and tried to imagine how a shot to the head would look to investigators. It would look unusual, he decided, so he aimed for her heart instead.
* * *
JORDAN MIGHT not have joined a gang in prison, but he had learned how to fight from people who were in gangs. Exploding from the hips, Jordan launched himself into the air at the exact moment the guard considered his shot. As the guard’s gun came level with Julie’s chest, Jordan wrapped his arms around the guard’s waist and got his shoulder firmly rooted against the brawny man’s body. With the full force of his momentum, Jordan drove the guard hard to the ground. The angle of impact pressed the upright scalpel deeper into flesh. Judging by the sound of the guard’s scream, the pain must have been electric. The blade might have scraped bone.
The impact dislodged the gun from the guard’s hand. Jordan had little trouble flipping the guard, weak and disoriented, from his side onto his back. This was tactical for two reasons: it gave Jordan a physical advantage, and it barricaded the other guns beneath the guard’s body. In no way did it mean Jordan could relax. He knew not to underestimate fists as a weapon.
Jordan straddled the guard’s waist, but he failed to get the man’s arms pinned to his sides. With the guard’s arms free to attack, Jordan expected one of two countermoves. The guard might decide to clinch him, but it would leave his head exposed to punches. He might try to shield his head, but if he did, Jordan could shimmy up the body and put him in an even stronger hold. Jordan had seen plenty of prison fights where one guy had his arms pressed against his ears and the guy on top went for the throat. Never ended well for the guy on the bottom.
For the moment, at least, Jordan had the upper hand. But he could feel his opponent’s legs pumping furiously in an effort to break free, and he wondered how much longer he could maintain his hold.
* * *
RAGE OWNED Lincoln Cole, but not enough to make him do something stupid like shield his head. What he wanted to do was put a bullet through the morgue tech’s eye. But his guns were inaccessible, and Lincoln had to give it to the kid. He’d been strong and skilled enough to get Lincoln to the ground, and had him pinned in a mounted hold.
But the kid was also clueless about what to do next, and Lincoln had a plan. Flexing his ankles, Lincoln made a base with his feet, rooting them firmly to the floor. With a thrust, Lincoln bucked his hips hard enough to toss Jordan forward like he was being thrown from a bronco. He did this repeatedly. With each toss, Jordan’s hold weakened considerably.
Lincoln bucked again and this time as he did, he rolled to one side, brought his knees through Jordan’s legs, and rolled onto his back once more. In this position, Lincoln was able to wrap his legs around Jordan’s waist while getting his arm secured around Jordan’s neck. Now, Lincoln began to squeeze. With any luck, he’d crush the windpipe in the next few seconds.
* * *
JORDAN FELT strangely light-headed. In that moment he believed he was going to die, and die horribly. The guard secured a python-like chokehold around Jordan’s neck. Jordan could feel the man’s bulging bicep press against his windpipe hard enough to cut off the air supply. Bit by bit Jordan’s vision went dark, though he could still make out Julie lying on her back not far from him. Her head lolled groggily from side to side as she fought to come to her senses. Jordan struggled to break free, fighting for each breath, flailing his body in a panic.
Then, in a strange reversal, Jordan began to relax. It took a moment for him to realize he had hit oxygen debt. Unconsciousness was probably seconds away, death soon to follow. Terror and pain gave way to a feeling of peacefulness. An eerie blackness came at him like a fast-moving eclipse. Jordan resisted the shadow at first, but gave in to a feeling of euphoria as he let himself fall into the abyss.
* * *
JULIE SOMEHOW managed to get to her knees. She had no memory of doing so, and was dazed. The idea of seeing stars was no longer a figure of speech. Her head throbbed, but her vision had cleared enough to see Jordan on top of the guard. It appeared he had the upper hand, until Julie realized the guard’s arm was wrapped tightly around Jordan’s neck. The guard also had his legs knotted around Jordan’s waist to keep him from pulling free of the hold.
Julie tried to stand. Her knees buckled, so she crawled toward them, unsure what she would do once she got there.
Weakened from her fall, and down on the floor with no real leverage, Julie tugged on the guard’s arm. All that did was get his attention. He snapped his head in Julie’s direction and his eyes blazed with venom. You’re next, his look said.
Instinct, nothing more, made Julie open her mouth and lunge at him with her head. She sank her teeth into the exposed flesh of the guard’s forearm and bit down hard enough to coax out a warm gush of blood. Blood filled her mouth. The taste went beyond repul
sive, but the attack proved highly effective. The guard let go of Jordan’s throat, so he could direct the force of his attack on Julie.
* * *
LINCOLN TRIED to ignore the pain rocketing up his arm. He wanted to keep his hold a little longer. The morgue tech was almost dead. If Lincoln could give it a few more seconds, he would surely finish the job. But Julie had latched on to his arm with force, and would not let go. Her teeth tore into his flesh, and the pain went from bothersome to excruciating in a blink.
He had to get her off him, so he snapped his arm as if cracking a whip. He managed to dislodge her, and in the process struck her face with his knuckles in more than a glancing blow. Julie tumbled back to the floor. Lincoln forgot all about the morgue tech as he reached for Julie. Hurt whatever had just hurt him was all he was thinking. It was blind fury taking over, not really his best option.
With air in his lungs again, Jordan recovered his wits along with his mobility. Jordan’s next move took Lincoln by surprise. Somehow he got his arm wrapped around Lincoln’s neck, and he drove his shoulder while pushing with his legs. Jordan’s hips came forward as he rolled onto his side. From there, Jordan was able to squirm free of Lincoln’s flimsy grasp and scramble to his feet.
Lincoln did the same. Instead of bull-rushing Jordan, though, Lincoln tried to draw a gun from his back pocket. The weapon got caught on the fabric of Lincoln’s pants, and he fumbled to get it free. Once he did, he aimed the gun not at Jordan, but at Julie.
* * *
THE GUN getting stuck was good fortune, Jordan thought, but not entirely surprising. Back pockets were not designed to be gun holsters. The effort afforded Jordan a few precious seconds he did not think he had. It was enough time to attack.
Julie was on the ground, trying to get her bearings, trying to get to her feet, but she was too disoriented even to stand. Jordan lowered his shoulder and charged the guard at a sprinter’s pace. He slammed into the guard’s exposed side, and momentum carried them both into the cart holding Albert’s body.
The cart toppled over with a loud clatter, spilling Albert to the floor. Somehow both men managed to stay upright. The pair bounced off the cart and stumbled into the exam table where Julie had laid out her instruments for the biopsy.
With his left hand, Jordan grabbed hold of the guard’s right wrist, effectively pinning the hand holding the gun. The guard pushed back, his arm shaking as he struggled to position his gun in front of Jordan’s face. Jordan’s back was pressed up against the exam table. He latched his right hand to the lip of the table, which improved his leverage considerably. Even so, the guard was still overpowering him. The gun continued to inch closer to Jordan’s face.
Jordan turned his head to get maximum distance from the gun barrel, when he caught a glint of something silver in his peripheral vision.
In a leap of faith, Jordan let go his grip on the table so he could reach for the silver object. In doing so, Jordan’s grip on the guard’s arm weakened. The barrel came swinging toward his face. Jordan clutched the curved seven-inch needle holder in his hand like a talon. He brought the surgical implement toward the guard’s left eye with force.
A bullet exploded from the gun barrel and a searing pain erupted near Jordan’s temple. Even so, Jordan’s strike was on target. There was some resistance at first when the tip of the needle holder hit the eyeball. The resistance did not last long. Jordan felt something give and then heard a pop as he drove the instrument through the guard’s eyeball and deep into the skull.
In an instant, the guard’s knees buckled. The gun tumbled from his hand. Then the guard crumpled to the ground, where his body went into spasm. The guard flailed for a moment before he came to a full stop alongside Albert’s perfectly still body.
CHAPTER 47
Jordan slumped to the floor, exhausted and breathing hard. Sweat mixed with blood where the bullet had grazed his temple. The bleeding came briskly, and Jordan’s dazed expression suggested he was in shock.
Julie was not faring much better. Her face and head throbbed where she had taken blows, and the taste of the killer’s blood continued to foul her mouth. With great effort, Julie stood, wobbly on her feet, and staggered over to Jordan. She did a quick visual exam and used the flashlight feature on her phone to check his pupils. They reacted briskly to light and constricted consensually. Good sign.
Her senses and balance returning, Julie found a box of gauze, which she applied in generous quantities to stanch the bleeding from Jordan’s head wound.
“Keep pressure on it,” she said, while wrapping a bandage around Jordan’s head to hold the gauze in place. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
Jordan actually laughed. “Aren’t we in one?” he said.
Despite it all, Julie could not suppress a little smile. It dimmed, though, when her gaze traveled to the security guard with the needle holder sticking up grotesquely from his eye socket.
“I don’t mean this one,” Julie said. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
“I can’t hear very well from my left ear,” Jordan said.
“The ringing should go away with time, but we have to go.”
Adrenaline coursed through Julie’s veins like a river. She could not quiet the shaking of her body.
“No,” Jordan answered.
Julie looked at him, bewildered. “What do you mean?”
“Give me the badge.”
“Why?”
“Because if we both go down for what happened here, nobody is going to get the sample tested.”
“What story could you possibly give?”
“The truth. I got the badge from Allyson Brock, who I know through Lucy. I came here to do some research in the lab. I was here with her permission and the security guard attacked me.”
“The police aren’t going to believe you,” Julie said. “You have a record.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Jordan clutched his bandaged head and winced in pain. Talking hurt. So did standing, which Jordan could do only with Julie’s help. Jordan retrieved the specimen jar and handed both the jar and the cooler to Julie.
“Whatever is in Albert’s tissue is worth killing us over,” Jordan said. “If we don’t do this now, whoever is behind it will go underground. They’ll hide the evidence the way they did hives in the victims’ medical records. Get the sample to Dr. Abruzzo and get it tested. Call Allyson Brock and make sure she knows what’s coming her way.”
As much as Julie hated to agree, Jordan made good points.
“Who do you think he really is?” Julie asked, pointing to the guard. “He’s been spying on me, following me.”
“I don’t know,” Jordan said. “But I got a feeling that Dominick, the punk who tried to carjack you, he knows. He kept saying someone paid him to scare you. What I think is someone paid him to try and kill you, and when that didn’t work, whoever is behind this got us both kicked out of White and set the trap here.”
“You think Allyson is involved?”
“I don’t, but that’s just my gut. Same as I don’t think Lucy set us up. She wouldn’t. But how did he know we were going to be here?”
Julie thought it over and pointed at the dead security guard. “He’s been watching me. Maybe he’s been listening to my calls as well.”
She held up her phone and showed Jordan the call she received from Allyson.
Jordan agreed. “These days, with all the spying and whatnot, it’s not that hard to do. I’m not going to be able to check into it, but maybe Trevor can. Tell him to look for root type programs. If he doesn’t know what that means, tell him to Google it. He’s smart like you. He’ll figure it out.”
“Jordan, I can’t just leave you.”
“I’m putting Albert’s body back where it belongs, and then I’m pulling the fire alarm. Go. I’ll be all right. I’m going to be arrested and I’m not going to get bail. I know that. But I have faith in you. I trust you and I want you to trust me. We have one chance at this. Let’s not blo
w the opportunity.”
Julie bit at her bottom lip and held Jordan’s gaze a moment. Then she hugged him and gently touched his cheek. Her vision was watery from the gathering tears.
“I’ll come through for you,” Julie said. “That’s a promise.”
* * *
THE ONLY person Julie knew who might be at home and alone on Thanksgiving was Dr. Lucy Abruzzo. Lucy made her dislike for the holiday known every year when it came around. She would say it was gluttonous and complain it memorialized the genocide of an indigenous people. Julie would jokingly call Lucy a “Debbie Downer.” She would also invite Lucy for Thanksgiving dinner, an invitation invariably declined, but always with a show of thanks.
Julie was not about to call Lucy to announce her pending arrival. Phones were not to be trusted. Her attacker had spied on her, perhaps using her phone as a window into her life.
Julie’s nerves crackled for the entire drive into Boston, while her thoughts swirled. What was happening to Jordan? What were the police saying? Would they come looking for her? Every police car Julie came upon sent an icy chill down her spine. Who set them up? Everything, she believed, hinged on the test results—meaning everything hinged on Lucy.
Julie found street parking and rang the buzzer to 6C. Lucy lived in an apartment building on Commonwealth Avenue within walking distance of Kenmore Square. The apartment, which Julie had visited on several occasions, featured a lighted glass staircase, a clear-sided Jacuzzi tub resembling an aquarium, and a marble steam room with an intricate inlaid mosaic design, all of which enthralled everyone except for the apartment’s lone occupant.
“The architect had bad taste, but the place has a great view,” Lucy said in reference to her home’s ultramodern design.
Julie rang the buzzer and waited. A moment later a voice came through the intercom.
“Who is it?”
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