Jonathan Needham often dreamed of discovering the one thing that would make him famous. Not passing fame, like a reality star, but permanent fame that would ensure everyone would remember him forever.

  Teetering among various ploys for years, the M.E. had envisioned everything from winning the lottery to writing the great American novel. Though nothing ever quite seemed right, or more accurately within his reach. Then, two days ago, something intriguing fell into his lap — a silent woman with a fantastic story to tell.

  But would a corrupt government let him tell it? That was the train of thought that led Jonathan to document his findings in a very public way.

  “You see.” He panned the Mini Flip camera closer to the woman’s open wound. “This metal rod is made from a material that hasn’t been used subcutaneously since the seventies. It should be rusted up pretty bad after 40 years.” Jonathan used a cloth to wipe away the blood. When he finished, only a pristine piece of metal remained. “But as you can see, no rust.”

  “So, how did this woman come to have this rod implanted in her?” Jonathan turned the camera around so anyone viewing his broadcast could see his face. “Sometime in the next few days, I will be getting the results back from…”

  Just then, a door outside the small examination room swung open.

  Startled, the medical examiner accidentally dropped the little camera on top of the woman’s naked body. Before he could retrieve the device, a flustered Freddy Spencer popped his head into the office. Without preamble, he asked, “Do you have the results yet?”

  Without looking up, Jonathan switched the camera off then slammed his laptop shut. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” When he finally did take the time to look, the person standing there took him a little bit by surprise. “Freddy? What the hell are you doing down here?”

  “I’m here to get the deer results for Bob.”

  “For Bob,” he said with the same high-minded tone he had in high school. “You mean Robert Rogan. He’s your boss?”

  Freddy reluctantly nodded even though Jonathan didn’t need to ask because of the uniform. The mere sight of it made him snicker. “Freddy Spencer… you always were jumping from one uniform to another. Football uniform, Army uniform, now a game warden uniform. Is it possible for you to think for yourself?”

  “I don’t have time for your shit, Jonathan. Not then, and certainly not now.” Freddy wanted to unload on the medical examiner. Instead, he decided to control his growing anger. “Just give me the test results, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Don’t have them.” Jonathan dismissively said as he opened his laptop back up. Then, he switched the video camera back on. Freddy waited for some other explanation or addendum to his statement, but the M.E. seemed content to remain silent.

  “What do you mean? You don’t have them?”

  “There’s a backlog at the lab, Freddy. That means there won’t be any results for a couple more days.” He gave Freddy a long, accusatory look. “So, if you would kindly run along. I’ve got some important things to do here.” At that exact moment, the door swung open once again, and a stranger unexpectedly walked in.

  Stunned and surprised, Jonathan looked to Freddy. “What is this? The field trip was yesterday.”

  “Field trip?” The look of fear in his old high school classmate’s face went a long way toward breaking his sour mood. “Sorry, Jonathan, I don’t know anything about a field trip.”

  “Jonathan Needham,” Mosley tentatively asked as he stepped into the cramp examination room. “Are you Jonathan Needham… the county medical examiner?”

  The normally unshakable man felt compelled to close his laptop. With a cautious stare, he nodded his head to the man in the dark blue jacket.

  “That’s good,” Mosely said. “Sorry to barge in on you like this, but we’re with the government. We need to ask you some questions about a young woman you are currently examining.”

  “We?” The words were barely out of Jonathan’s mouth when two similarly dressed strangers barged in like they owned the place. Conformity, he mused, was the government’s bread and butter. His paranoia meter was spiking near eleven. “Exactly what agency do the three of you represent?”

  Foster sidled up to a confused Mosley who simply stared back at him. What agency did they represent? Neither scientist had any credentials more official than a driver’s license, and Foster’s was expired. Without the means to make any demands, both men looked to their muscle for help.

  Justine immediately understood what they required without them having to ask.

  “FBI, sir.” She flipped her badge open so the medical examiner could examine it. “We have some questions about the accident that occurred yesterday morning. More specifically, the young woman who died. My name is Justine Rushing. This is Dr. Samuel Mosley. And this is…” For the first time since their pairing, she wondered if Foster had a doctorate. “This is Dr. Foster Evers.”

  “No,” Foster quickly corrected her mistake. “I’m not a doctor, Mr. Needham. But we understand that you came to some unorthodox conclusions about the young woman’s death.”

  Flabbergasted, Jonathan wondered how they knew about the woman or his suspicions? Where were they getting their information? He waited for Dr. Mosley to add anything else, but he was too busy keeping a watchful eye on the darkened office.

  “Why would the FBI be interested in a car wreck victim?” Jonathan asked. “Besides, if you’re not with the local authorities, I’m not legally obligated to share any of my information with you without a warrant.”

  “Really?” Justine had never missed her gun more than she did right now. She wouldn’t even have to fire it. Just wave it around this little punk’s face until he pooped himself. “Let me understand. Your official position is that you are refusing to cooperate with a government official. Is that the hill you want to die on?”

  “You won’t get anything out of paranoid Johnny, miss,” Freddy happily chimed in, locating an empty stool near the wall to sit on. “Even back in school, he was always pretty tight-lipped about stuff.”

  “As much as I hate agreeing with the park ranger, he is correct. No warrant. No answers.”

  Sensing her rage, Foster reached out and grabbed Justine by the wrist. Her hand was already searching for her little stun gun. Hoover, who couldn’t see what she was doing, was still good enough with the odds to not have to. “Is she trying to shoot him yet? Videotape it for me.”

  “Really?” Foster kept eye contact with Jonathan. But the words he spoke were meant for someone else. “You could help us out a little bit.”

  “Fine… we’ll do it the not so messy way.” Hoover spoke very clearly. “But you’ll need to say exactly what I say and exactly how I say it. Got it?”

  “Yes.” Feeling like Christian de Neuvillette’s puppet, Foster precisely repeated what was being fed into his ear. “What makes you think that we’re only here to talk about the girl?” Foster asked. “We could ask about other things. The things you don’t want getting back to your superiors.”

  “Like what?” The sharp tone in his voice was gone. “What would you have on me?”

  “For starters… we could talk about the company you keep online. Or how you share classified, personal data with strangers on a certain website called Everyone is out to GET you. Why last year alone, there were at least four cases where you discussed a patient’s personal data with a known computer hacker named EYE ON YOU. EYE ON YOU, that’s a pretty stupid name.”

  “Stop adlibbing, Foster.” Hoover liked his screen name. “Or I’ll bring up your AOL email account with Agent Rushing.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Foster whispered, “She probably doesn’t even know what AOL is.”

  “You’ve got some nerve.” The M.E. attempted to stare down his accuser. But his half-crazed look was woefully insufficient. Foster had faced down far worse. “It’s illegal to monitor someone’s internet activity without a warrant.”

  A moment passed by before anything else came over his earpiece. Foster even began to wonder if his program even had any other information to use as leverage on the medical examiner. He was about to ask when…

  “Threaten him,” Hoover commanded. “Push him just a little farther, and this guy will fold like a cheap lawn chair.”

  Foster didn’t have any experience doing that. Sure, he had spent eight years locked up in a psychiatric prison. But he never threatened anyone. And once he made friends with Mouse, there was never a reason to learn. Foster considered asking the CERN genius, but Mosely’s way of touching everything with his sleeves didn’t exactly scream intimidation.

  Just then, he noticed Justine’s right-hand twitching slightly. Specifically, her forefinger and index finger were rubbing up against one another like she was trying to start a fire. He couldn’t read her lips, but her body language screamed she was ready to pounce.

  It was time for a little improvisation.

  “Agent Rushing,” Foster stared at Jonathan as coldly as his boyish looks could muster. “If the medical examiner is not willing to cooperate with us, I’m afraid I'd have to authorize a cleansing operation.”

  Jonathan’s mouth opened cartoonishly wide. Justine’s reaction was more subdued. But she was just as surprised when Foster continued. “I know I haven’t authorized one in a while. But this situation is more precarious than usual. Plus, this guy is really pissing me off.”

  “That will be messy.” Without a clear view of his endgame, Justine still decided to play along. “Not to mention all the trash bags.”

  “We are in a morgue. I think we can manage.” They both chuckled.

  Being entirely out of the loop, Mosley asked Foster. “What the hell is she talking about?” Then, when he said nothing, he turned to Agent Rushing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  It was the look in Mosley’s fearful eyes that put their ruse over the top.

  “I’ll tell you everything you want to know about her,” Jonathan broke down. “Just tell me where you want me to start.”

  “Told you,” Hoover said proudly. “All internet trolls are pussies!”

  Shocked at the scene unfolding before his eyes, Mosley stumbled to a vacant seat then sat down. To his left, a creepy green sheet lay draped over something, something he didn’t want to think about right now.

  “Who are you guys?” Freddy finally asked. “Really?”

  Completely unnerved, it took Mosley a second to register the words before he could adequately respond to Freddy’s question. “It’s classified, sir.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn the sheet moved. He shuddered at the horrible possibilities that lay beneath. “But we’ll be gone soon enough.”

  Foster and Justine shared a brief smile over their handy work. Then, he asked the M.E. a question. “Why don’t you pretend like we haven’t seen any of your video streams and just start from the beginning.”

  Twenty minutes later, Jonathan sat behind the examination table in an almost catatonic state. All the information he’d gathered, pertinent or otherwise, was now in the hands of his interrogators. And with that knowledge, Foster began to form a hypothesis about the woman’s strange medical implant.

  “Have you had a chance to do a CT scan on her?”

  A nervous laugh escaped the medical examiner’s lips.

  “Have you looked around my office?” He pointed to the stacks of out of date equipment packed along the walls. “I’m lucky that I have my own x-ray machine. Everything else has to be sent out for testing, even routine toxicology reports.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about those, Mr. Needham.” Foster knew Hoover would take care of that problem without having to be asked. “Still…”

  The flap of his satchel came off, and Justine’s first excited thought went to the tablet. However, her face slightly fell when all he withdrew was a small, black sphere about the size of a croquet ball.

  “What is that?” The young agent cocked her head to one side. “One of those tools you were talking about?”

  Foster twisted his hand slightly so Justine could get a complete look at what he was holding. “It’s a PDS, Portable Diagnostic Scanner, highly modified, of course.”

  “Of course,” she grinned knowingly.

  “It looks like a fancy magic 8-ball to me,” Mosley said, mockingly.

  “An acceptable description, Dr. Mosley.” Foster motioned for a sickly-looking Samuel to join him by the young woman. “Could you power up your laptop for me? I want a better look at what’s going on inside of this woman.”

  Thinking along the same lines as Justine, Mosley asked an obvious question. “You’re not going to use the tablet?”

  “No, I think that would be overkill.” Foster smiled as Justine barged her way to the examination table for a ringside seat. “Besides, I don’t think the examiner wants anything to do with that little piece of hardware. Do you, Jonathan?” The M.E. practically flinched himself right off his stool.

  It only took a second for Mosley’s MacBook to load up to the start screen. “Is there a particular program you want me to activate?”

  “Is it Bluetooth compatible?”

  Mosley nodded in the affirmative. “Everything is these days.”

  “Then it doesn’t matter. Hoover...” Foster held out the mysterious croquet ball and began waving it over the woman’s legs. A minute later, he slowly moved onto the rest of her body, making sure to scan each area meticulously before moving upward toward her head. “There.”

  Seemingly finished, he tucked the ball back into his satchel. Everyone, including a disinterested Freddy, wondered what was going to happen next. Finally, he said, “open an imaging program, and let’s see if there’s anything special about her.”

  Mosley slowly turned to Foster. “I don’t have an imaging program installed on my laptop.”

  Foster didn’t bother explaining why that wasn’t a problem. He just twisted the screen in his direction. Instantly, a series of windows appeared in various locations on the screen. Some were loading programs while others were dialog boxes asking for permission to change the laptop’s settings. Then, an unaided cursor scrolled across the screen, minimizing unwanted boxes until the last one exploded and filled the entire screen.

  The words RADIOLOGICAL IMAGING READER appeared in bold letters.

  “Bring up a whole-body view… level one.”

  Upon Foster’s command, a lateral scan of the woman’s body appeared. From the image, he quickly saw that almost every bone in her body was either broken or fractured. Jonathan’s mysterious rod stuck out like a sore thumb. But something else grabbed his attention.

  “Zoom in on her head, Hoover.” The program responded to his command, and a close-up view of her skull appeared. “Is there any evidence of brain damage? More specifically, damage not caused by the accident?”

  Even as frightened as he was, Jonathan couldn’t help but ask, “Who the hell is he talking to?”

  Justine cut his curiosity off at the knees. “Nobody you should concern yourself with unless you want to be in more trouble than you already are.” Already panicked, the medical examiner slunk quietly back into his chair. Half smiling, she was surprised she found playing the heavy role so enjoyable.

  “Fine. Move on to a close up of the shin bone.” Instantly, the image zoomed out and refocused on the desired location. A higher quality version of Jonathan’s x-ray filled the screen. Foster studied the image for a long time before saying anything else. “Are you sure? It just looks like a fairly new rod to me.”

  “I’m positive.” Hoover’s normally confident voice sounded perplexed. “In Radiological terms, the thing’s only about three years old.”

  “I see.” Foster closed Mosley’s laptop and handed it back to him. “You were right about one thing, Mr. Needham. That rod is a piece of the puzzle.”

  His head pounding, Jonathan didn’t respond to the compliment. He just prayed that no one was at his apartment right now ransacking it.

  “What did you find?” Justine leaned over the woman’s body and peered into her open wound. In doing so, Mosley turned a sickly pale color then backed up toward the exit. “This looks like something I had put in me back in 08’. I took a nasty fall out of a Huey back at the academy. I broke my femur in three places.”

  “Trust me, Agent Rushing.” He covered her exposed body back up. “There’s nothing like that anywhere in you.” Foster stared at the medical examiner again, then pointed to the adjacent table. “Tell me about this.”

  “The deer?” The sheet over the deer had been masking the animal’s decaying odor. But once the slip came off, Mosley’s sensitive nostrils got a whiff of rotting flesh, and he almost threw up. “I don’t know what to tell you. Freddy’s boss ordered a complete analysis, including blood work. But like Jane Doe, those results won’t be back until the end of the week.”

  “This case is now your priority, Mr. Needham.”

  “Priority or not, I can’t make the lab go any quicker.”

  “Don’t worry. I expect both of those results will be in your inbox first thing in the morning.” Foster lowered his head until he was only inches away from the animal’s decaying flesh. “I don’t see any wounds. How did it die? And more importantly, who found it?”

  “I found it.” Freddy spun around on the stool like a bored child trying to entertain himself. Justine glanced around to watch the park ranger speak. In return for her notice, he offered his best roguish smile. “A couple of nights ago, I ran across him while chasing some poachers off protected land.”

  “Was this the only animal you found?” Foster asked cryptically. “Or were there others?”

  “Yes,” Freddy stopped spinning. “There were others.”

  Foster tried to make eye contact with Justine, but she was already moving toward Freddy. He wanted to stop her, pull her off to the side, and ask her if she could persuade the young officer to assist them. Already two steps ahead, Justine tried her best to do a bad impersonation of a seductress.

  “Officer Spencer.” Abandoning the heavy role, the often in control agent attempted to loosen up her feminine wiles. “I don’t suppose you could take us out to where you found them.”

  Out of nowhere, her usually high-pitched voice lowered a couple of octaves. To everyone’s horror, instead of being sexy, this vocal change came off like an audition for cookie monster on Sesame Street. “Could you?”

  What followed could only be described as the most awkward come on in the history of time. Looks were exchanged, promises were broken, and a once proud man withered under the weight of his expectations.

  When it was over, Mosley fought back the most enticing need to burst out laughing. While Freddy, more scared than turned on, had the strangest look on his face.

  “I suppose I could.” His eyes betrayed the tiniest hint of fear.

  “Great!” Justine was practically beaming. “We could give you a lift.”

  “That’s ok.” Freddy’s heart didn’t skip a beat. “I’ll take my own car.”