Jordan was in her office, finishing up on paperwork on her heart attack victim, Mr. Paul Cromwell, when Woody waltzed into her office.

She smiled, "Detective Hoyt, I'm glad to see you. Means I don't have to drag out my scalpels," she paused, "Did you find anything?"

Woody grinned triumphantly, shooting a fist in the air, "Mr. Kruger has a old warrant out for his arrest... drugs, of course."

Just then, Peter burst into the office, "Hey, you guys talking without me?"

Woody rolled his eyes, "No, all I said was that David Kruger has a old warrant out for his arrest... meaning we can drag his ass in."

"Still that's talking without me."

Woody threw his hands up, "I give up. Let's go."

David Kruger's apartment was a very large, upscale building, immaculately kept. The lawn was trimmed obsessively neat, timed sprinklers spraying the lush green. A gleaming, brand-new red Porsche 911 stood parked on the curb.

A rich asshole, Jordan thought, wiping sweat from her forehead. The day had turned unseasonably hot.

Woody turned to Jordan and Peter, "I go in the first. We clear on this?"

Jordan turned to Peter, "You have the sneaking suspicion that maybe he was Hitler in a past life? He does enjoy ordering people around."

He planed his hands on his hips, "I'm serious Jordan. I don't want you dead."

She smiled, "Woody, I'm touched by your concern."

He continued to stare at her.

"Okay, okay. I will remain on the stairs, until you call me, sir."

So it was almost a repeat of Tyrell McCabe's. Woody crept cautiously up the stairs, Jordan following, her dark eyes alight with curiosity. Peter at the rear, looking like he wasn't sure if he wanted to be here.

Woody reached the top; knocked, waited a few moments.

A cautious male voice came through the door, "Yes?"

"David Kruger?"

"Yes."

"This is the Boston Police Department. You have a warrant out for your arrest, sir. For possession of an illegal substance."

There was silence on the other side of the door.

"Mr. Kruger?"

"I'm sorry. I'm here."

"Could you open the door, sir?" Woody took a step closer.

A heavy sigh could be heard, "Fine. All right."

There was a rattle as Kruger unlatched the deadbolt, then he yanked the door open.

Jordan had been expecting another Cody Banks, but she received a surprise.

David Kruger wasn't very tall, probably only about 5'8, slender, and was wearing neatly pressed black slacks and a silk shirt.

He had curly dark brown hair, soft, sad-looking brown eyes, and a rather handsome face.

He also looked totally miserable.

"Come in."

So they did, Woody first, of course, then Jordan, Peter last.

David Kruger stood there for a moment, "Please, sit if you'd like."

"Thank you." Jordan, Peter, and Woody all took a seat on the sofa, while David Kruger sat in a overstuffed chair.

Woody joined the conversation again, "I'm Detective Woodrow Hoyt, sir. This is Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh and Dr. Peter Winslow."

Kruger gazed at Jordan and Peter, "Doctors?"

"We're from the M.E.'s office." Jordan supplied.

"Oh..." then Kruger's gaze narrow, "I thought this was about my warrant?"

"Actually, we just said that to get in here. You do have a warrant out for your arrest, however. But we need to talk to you about two homicides that occurred early this morning."

Kruger's face paled, "Homicides? Who?"

"Christopher Hammond and Jaime Black."

His already pale turned the color of milk, "Chris and Jaime? They're dead?"

Jordan nodded, "I'm afraid so."

He was shaking his head in disbelief, "How?"

Jordan didn't want to give any of the details of the murder away, so she said simply, "They were both stabbed."

"Oh...god." he buried his head in his hands. Started to cry.

Peter watched him, "How did you know them? Did Tyrell McCabe introduce you?"

Kruger froze.

"We already know about McCabe. He gave us your name. Said he was with you at the time of the murders."

He hesitated.

Woody walked over to him, "Look, if you help us out, I'll lose the warrant, okay?"

He nodded, and swallowed hard, "No, McCabe didn't introduce us. I grew up with Jaime... we're... we were best friends."

"Did Jaime have any enemies?"

Kruger laughed, "Jaime? No. She was the sweetest, most caring person you could ever meet. I know it sounds corny, but she was one of the people that was beautiful inside and out."

"Who liked to do drugs?" Woody asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Kruger stared at him, "Don't drag her through the mud. You don't know what it's like. Chris got her addicted to them."

Jordan happened to glance over at Peter, who stared straight ahead. She had never said anything, never let on that she knew that he once had a drug problem. This conversation was obviously rubbing raw nerves.

"Where were you between the hours of 2:00 and 3:00 a.m. this morning?" Woody asked idly, walking around Kruger's living room.

There was a small pause, "What- you think I killed Jaime? I would never hurt her. Or Chris. She was my best friend." His voice was filled with disbelief.

"Where were you?" Woody asked again, his voice harder.

Kruger sighed, "If you talked to McCabe, you know goddamn well where I was. Right here, with him."

"Getting drugs?" Jordan asked innocently.

Kruger said nothing. His silence answered for him.

"Look, you look like a nice guy. You wanna screw up your life?" Woody asked.

Kruger paused, and his face was contorted with agony, "But you don't know how hard it is! I've tried, and I-I can't stop."

"Yes, you could if you tried." Peter said quietly.

Kruger glared at him, "How would you know? You people don't know anything!"

That did it for Peter. He stood, eyes aflame, "I don't know, huh? I used to be you, only caring about my next fix. In fact, it cost me my ex-wife. She was an addict too, she overdosed. It almost cost me my medical career... luckily, I ended up at the medical examiner's, but I was studying to be a surgeon. So don't give me that fucking bullshit!"

Kruger stared at him, speechless, mouth agape.

Peter was breathing heavily, eyes still sparkling with anger.

Jordan and Woody exchanged glances. Woody was obviously surprised, Jordan shrugged, shook her head minutely.

"I-I..." Kruger stuttered, trying to talk, but then fell silent.

"I'm outta here." Peter announced, and stalked out of the apartment.

Woody stood, "Well... Mr. Kruger, thank you for your time. If we have any more questions," his voice hardened, "I assume you'll be here?"

"W-what? Oh, yes."

Jordan hurried outside, Woody at her heels.

Peter was sitting in the car.

"Sorry," he said quietly, staring at his hands, "I kinda lost it back there."

Jordan swallowed, torn between the feeling to scold and comfort. The need to comfort won.

"It's okay. He deserved it anyway," she hesitated, "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just had to blow off some steam."

"You sure?" Woody asked, from the driver's seat.

"Yeah Woody. By the way, back there..."

"Yeah?" Woody asked expectantly.

"I didn't know a person's eyeballs could bulge out that far."