Chapter Three

Three hours later, Jordan finally pulled the face mask off of her. It was done...the Buchanan autopsy. She picked up the phone and called Woody.

"I'm finished," she said. "I think you need to get in here as soon as you can. This is more than different...more than interesting....this is just plain weird."

"No conspiracy theories, Jordan. Please. Just the facts."

"I don't need any conspiracies here, Hoyt. The truth is strange enough."

"I'm on my way."

Woody walked back over from homicide. He had spent the last three hours with the homicide detectives that had been on the scene. Reviewing notes, talking to witnesses again. He had found out Buchanan had met a woman in the hotel restaurant for dinner, which was nothing unusual. He would often meet prospective investors or researchers for dinner. They had eaten, walked out of the hotel, and a short while later, he had returned...alone. The desk clerks said he went back up to his room and no one saw him until the police and ambulance were called about 4 a.m. That was when the gunshot was heard. But Buchanan should have died shortly after he returned to his room, in order for everything to mesh with the forensics. No one saw anyone come in and out of his hotel room but him. Woody had ordered the surveillance tapes from the hotel's security cameras.

He pushed open the doors of autopsy three. "What...." And stopped. Jordan had the man on his stomach and his cranium was open...as a matter of fact, he was open from the top of his head, down his back, until right below the neck. Woody swallowed hard. This was a bit much for him...he had been away from homicide too long. He breathed hard to regain his composure.

"Okay, Jordan," he finally got out. "What is it..and was this necessary?"

"Absolutely. This was absolutely necessary. The man had a stroke and there was no good reason. So I began to snoop around a little some more tests."

"And what did you find?"

"Okay... Do you know what causes a stroke?"

Woody nodded. "A blood clot to the brain."

"Exactly. So I open Mr. Buchanan's head up. Guess what I don't find?"

"The clot."

"Right. So stay with me on this. I got to thinking....the brain and the circulatory systems are run on a system of involuntary muscles, right? Well...the thing that makes the heart and brain systems involuntary are a series of electrical impulses that run through the body...programming it to know what do, when to do it, and how often. If something interrupts that electrical systems, it would be the same thing as say, shorting out the circuit in your kitchen...your appliances would blow. So I began to look at something that could short out Mr. Buchanan's body's electrical system. It would have to be something placed around the central nervous system, close to the brain. So I began to examine the cord from the base of the brain down his back. And look at what I found." She held up a small, plastic jar. Inside the jar was black square no bigger than the tip of an ink pen.

"What is that?"

"Nigel says it's a microchip. This thing was implanted about three inches down from the base of his brain, in his spinal cord, and short circuited his body's electrical system. It caused his stroke."

"How could something like this be inserted?"

"It's easy. All you need is one of those guns like animal breeders or farmers have that can put microchips in animals to help find them when they're lost. Those are not difficult to find or use."

Woody went up to her and took the jar out of her hand. Such a tiny little piece of electronics could cause such devastation. "Are you sure, Jordan?"

"Yes. I am."

Woody sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Nothing was ever easy...especially when she was involved. But she would get to the bottom of things...discover the truth. He didn't doubt her words as far as this went. "Okay...this is the main piece of the puzzle. Now we need to discover who he was having dinner with and who shot him to try to cover this up."

"And then the mystery is solved?"

"Maybe...."

Woody had left the morgue and Jordan had peeled off her scrubs, getting ready to go home. She was tired....physically and emotionally. Her morning had begun earlier than usual, and she had to deal with the after effects of a hangover. Then the autopsy was complicated....and long. And then there was Woody and all the emotions seeing him again brought up. She went back to her office and was getting her things together when she heard a noise by her doorway. "Whoever you are, I'm going home. It can wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow after lunch, as a matter of fact. If you need something, talk to Nigel, he's on rotation tonight."

"Even for me, Jordan?"

Jordan froze at the sound of his voice. God, how many years had it been? Four? Five? She couldn't recall. The only thing she remembered saying as she turned around to face him was, "Eddie...."

The tall man pulled away from where he had propped himself on the doorway and walked over to her. "God, Jordan. You haven't changed. Your still has ornery as ever. And just as beautiful." He caught her up in a tight hug.

Jordan hugged him back. It had been so long since she had last seen Eddie Winslow – since the case so long ago when they had found that abandoned baby in the cellar of a building. Shortly after that, he had taken a new job...with the Massachusetts State Bureau of Investigation. She heard he had moved away from Boston. "Oh, Lord, Eddie...what brings you back to Boston?"

"You....you good-looking thing you."

Jordan felt the red creep up in her cheeks. Eddie had been her father's partner before he was forced to retire. Eddie and she had been close during those days...dating. She had been oh, so young and innocent then. And he could still make her blush like a school girl. She felt him kiss the top of her head before he let her go.

"So how you doing, Jordy?"

No one..no one except Eddie could call her Jordy and get away with it. "Good. You?"

"I'm good, too. How's Max?"

"He's fine. Still has the bar."

"I'll drop by and see him while I'm in town."

"So, Eddie....why are you in town. Haven't seen you in years. Why the sudden urge to drop by and see how things are?"

"Philip Buchanan."

"The Buchanan case? I thought the Boston PD was handling that..."

"They are. And so are we."

"Why?"

"Because this case goes deeper than you can imagine. I hear Woody Hoyt is handling it for the PD. Do you know him?"

Jordan nearly laughed out loud. "Yeah, I know him, Eddie."

Eddie looked at her sharply. "And?"

"He's a good cop."

"And?"

"That's all. Woody's a good cop. So I guess I'll be working with both you guys."

Eddie nodded. Jordan suddenly felt like the cream center of an Oreo cookie.