'Thank you.' She picked up the head again. 'Evidence of severe impact trauma consistent with a fall of eighty to a hundred feet--' 'There's a surprise.' 'Inspector! I'm not going to--' The door flew open and crashed against a trolley full of sterilized implements sending them pinging and clanging to the mortuary floor: DI Insch. His white oversuit stretched nearly to bursting point. His face dark, dark red. The PF looked up and frowned. 'Inspector, you shouldn't be--' The fat man elbowed his way to the dissecting table. 'He was my friend!' 'That's why you shouldn't be here.' The Procurator Fiscal looked round for support, but everyone had developed a sudden interest in the mortuary walls. Everyone except Isobel:'For goodness sake! I'm trying to carry out a post mortem and if I don't get silence I'll eject the lot of you! This will be a closed session. Do I make myself clear?' Insch rounded on her. 'Don't you dare--' Steel laid a hand on his arm. 'Come on, David.' 'Get your bloody hands off me! I'm--' 'Let's no' burn any more bridges. Eh? Brooks wouldn't want that. Would he?' The fat man's eyes sparked with tears. 'He was my friend.' 'I know.' She pulled him towards the door. 'Come on, you and me'll go have a cuppa. Laz'll look after him. Won't you Laz?' Logan nodded, and the inspector let himself be led out of the sterile cutting room. For a moment everyone relaxed ... and then Isobel peeled off DCI Brooks' face.
Her head hurt. Pounding. Bang, bang, bang ... Throat dry, lips like sandpaper. 'Thirsty ...' Duncan squatted down next to her and smiled. 'I know, but it'll only hurt for a little bit. Then you'll be OK. You'll be with us.' 'So thirsty ...' Heather curled up on the filthy mattress and tried not to cry. She was going to die in here, in this dark metal box. Forgotten and alone ... 'Hey,' Duncan brushed the hair from her face. 'You're not alone. You've got me, remember?' She kept her eyes screwed shut. 'You're not real.''I'm as real as you need me to be. Come on, have I ever lied to you?' She rolled over onto her other side, turning her back on him. 'Inverness, three years ago.' He groaned. 'I told you: it was a mistake. I was drunk. She didn't mean anything to me.' Duncan's hand slipped down her body. 'It's always been you, you know that.' The hand caressed her thigh. 'You were my world.'
