Page 49 of In Too Deep
The mortuary occupied the lower level of the older part of the building; down a corridor most visitors never saw. Harrison signed in at reception, accepted the visitor pass clipped to him, and followed the directions down two flights of stairs where the air gradually changed. Cooler. Cleaner. The sharp smell of antiseptic hitting the back of his throat before he even reached the double doors.
A technician met him outside and handed over the protective clothing. Gown. Gloves. Overshoes. Harrison pulled them on mechanically, slower than usual. He told himself it was exhaustion. Lack of sleep. Too much caffeine and not enough food. But when the mortuary doors opened and the cold hit him, he knew it wasn’t true.
The room beyond was harsh with fluorescent light, every stainless-steel surface reflecting it back too brightly. Instrument trays sat neatly organised near deep metal sinks. Refrigeration units hummed quietly against the far wall. Somewhere water dripped rhythmically into a drain. And in the centre of it all rested the body. Covered neatly to the chest beneath a white sheet.
Harrison halted.
For one awful moment, the room altered around him. He wasn’t in this mortuary anymore. He was in a another one. With a different body beneath unforgiving fluorescent light. And no matter how many counselling sessions or transfers or attempts at starting over he forced himself through afterwards, this would always hit him, low and violent beneath his sternum, a flash of cold panic so quick and sharp he almost turned and left.
“Inspector?” Dr Runnalls’s voice cut cleanly through the spiral before it could properly take hold. “You coming in, or are you here to just let all the cold out?”
Harrison forced himself forward. “Sorry, long day.”
“And no flowers again.”
“Next time.”
“You men always say that.”
Runnalls gave a smile, then turned back to the table.
“Preliminary findings haven’t substantially changed.” She pushed her glasses back up her nose with her wrist so as not to contaminate her gloved fingers. “Though I do have slightly more confidence on a few points.”
Harrison moved closer, despite every instinct telling him not to. The girl looked younger here than she had in the recovery photographs. Smaller somehow. The violence done to her softened by stillness and fluorescent light until she stopped resembling evidence and started looking painfully human again.
Blonde hair lay damp against pale skin despite the drying process. Bruising marred one shoulder and the line of her jaw. Her arm rested awkwardly beside her body, fingers curled inward as if they’d frozen mid-motion.
“How long?” Harrison glanced up at the doctor.
“Five to ten days remains my best estimate. Water temperature complicates precision, but decomposition is consistent with prolonged immersion.”
Harrison nodded. “And the injuries?”
Runnalls consulted her notes. “Multiple blunt force injuries to the head, face and upper torso. Significant force was involved.”
“How significant?”
“Significant enough that I have no doubt she was subjected to a serious assault before entering the water.”
“Cause of death?”
“Not one I’m prepared to certify yet.” Runnalls removed her glasses. “There are several possibilities. Head trauma. Internal injuries. Potential intoxication. Water complicates things. Toxicology will help narrow it down.”
“Defensive wounds?”
“Likely.” She tapped another photograph. “Bruising to both forearms and wrists. I would say there’s evidence she attempted to protect herself, possible sexual assault, but I’ll be more confident once I’ve completed the full examination.”
“And identification?”
“Nothing immediate. Water exposure has degraded the fingertips too much for clean prints at present, though we’re still attempting recovery. We’ve circulated dental comparisons, but unless she’s on file somewhere or someone actively reports her missing, that’s not a quick process.”
“DNA?”
“We can do it, but you’re not talking hours. You’re talking days at minimum, longer if there’s nothing obvious to compare against. Especially if we end up widening beyond local databases.”
Harrison looked back at the body and exhaled sharply.
Every hour without a name gave the town more room to invent one for her. More gossip. More people attaching histories and faces to a dead girl lying under fluorescent lights while the truth drifted further out of reach.
