Standingtall and eyeing me with acute skepticism, he snorted and said, “Ah, so ye’retellin’ me ye’d be perfectly fine notknowin’whatreallyhappened toyersister?”
Icrossed my arms over my chest, hugging the bag tight, and leveled the crumpledcop with a glare so cold I couldn’t believe he didn’t turn to ice. “Shefell,”I said firmly, repeating what I had been told myself.
ButBrodie slowly shook his head. “No,” he replied softly. “Shedidnaefall, lass.”
“Andhow the hell do you know that?”
“Didye see the body?”
Mynose wrinkled as I shook my head. “What? No! They said she was toodisfigured to recognize—”
“Shite,”he groaned, wiping a hand over his cropped beard. Then, he replied, “MissAllan, your sisterwasnaedisfigured.Nothin’ had been done to her face.”
“Andhow the hell do you know that?” I shouted, as the first of my frightened tearssprang to my eyes.
InspectorBrodie’s rough demeanor changed then, and he leaned in closer, fixating hiseyes on mine, as he said, “Because I found her, lass. I was there, and I swearto ye, her face was touched bynothin’ but weatherand time. That’s all.”
Hewas infuriatingly calm, as he watched me with eerie determination to grasp myattention. I knew he wasn’t going to leave me alone until I listened towhatever he had to say. But all I knew about this man was his insistence toonly speak with him. He had no desire to work as a team with his coworkers, andwhat the hell did that say about him as a professional?
“Iam sure that the other people in your department are quite capable of doingtheir job,” I told him, my voice flat and firm. “Now, I want to have my sistercremated, and I want to go home. So, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Yelovedyersister?”
Thequestion left me unhinged, as the technician sighed and sat down behind thecounter. I cocked my head, narrowed my eyes, and asked, “What the hell kind ofquestion is that?”
“Ifshe was murdered,wouldnaeye like to be aware?”
Hisexpression was unreasonably smug, with the assumption that he had me exactlywhere he wanted me. And he would’ve been right.
“Ofcourse,” I replied. “But that’s not—”
“Howdo ye know for sure?” he asked calmly, leaning an elbow against the counter.“Theywouldnaelet ye see the body. So, how do yeeven know that’s herlyin’ in there?”
“Theysaid—”
“Aye.They said a lot of things, but how are yegonnalivewithyerself, if yedinnaesee the truth withyerown eyes?”
“I—”I wanted to protest. I wanted to open my mouth and shut down every persuasive,asinine thing he was saying to me. But I couldn’t because he was right. Eversince she’d gone missing, I’d had my own doubts, and while I trusted the policeand that they were quite capable of doing their job, I still needed to know formyself.
“Okay,”I finally said. Inspector Brodie raised an eyebrow in question, and with asigh, I clarified, “I’ll see her body.”
Hisface lit up with optimistic triumph, as he placed a steady hand against my arm.“I thinkyermakin’ theright choice. I cantake a lookfirst, if—”
“Let’sjust fucking do this,” I said, as anxiety swirled through thecoffeeI’d had hours ago.
Thedisgruntled technician then led the two of us down a hall, until we reached anopen doorway. A big, black incinerator stood before us, and positioned just infront of the door was a shrouded corpse. As Inspector Brodie moved in ahead ofme and began to unwrap the body, I told myself it wasn’t her. It wasn’t reallyGracie. She was gone, somewhere far away. But as the sheet was moved aside andher face was revealed, my mind struggled to maintain its grasp on the truth.
“Oh,Gracie,” I whispered, my voice trapped tight within my throat, as I reached outto brush my fingertips against her cold cheek. Her skin wasn’t right, not likehers. It had begun to enter a more advanced stage of decomposition, taking on agreenish hue. But that was still her face and her dry, cracked lips. That washer hair and her ears.
“I’msorry ye have to see this,” Inspector Brodie whispered gently, his sympathygenuine. “If ye need a moment, I understand.”
Ishook my head. “No,” I said. “I’m okay.”
Iwas surprised by how true that was, as I stood beside the lifeless, rottingcorpse of my little sister. I think perhaps I wasjust gladto know it was her, as if I had needed that validation without realizing it.Now, there was no doubt at all in my mind, and any curiosity and uncertaintywasreplaced with something else. Something even scarier andfar more disturbing.
“They,they said she was unrecognizable,” I told him, looking across the table as hepeered closely at the body.
“Aye,”he muttered, nodding. “What else did they tell ye?”
