To the right is what appears to be the area where they carry out the autopsies. There’s a hose on a reel in a corner for washing away blood and other bodily fluids through the narrow drains that run lengthwise across the room. Even from behind the glass, there’s the faint scent of cleaning solvent.
Julia’s eyes fall on the lone stainless-steel gurney. There’s a body in a cadaver bag on top. It hits her then, really hits her, that the body in the bag could be Toni.
“I want to go in and see her,” says Julia.
Christine shakes her head. “I can’t let you do that. Like it or not, Toni’s body is evidence now. Besides, you’ll never recover.”
“Christine’s right,” says Leo, gently.
Julia can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s crying. But she doesn’t turn to look. She can’t cope with that right now.
“I need to be with her.”
Julia feels a hand on her shoulder, Christine’s. “We should head back to the hotel. Give you some time to rest, take it all in.”
Julia doesn’t move. She can’t tear her eyes away from the body bag. All she can think is how final this is, and that there is nothing she can do to fix it. Suddenly she finds herself lunging for the door and pulling on the handle. She’s surprised how easy it opens, how easy it is to slip inside and shut the door tight behind her before the others can get in. Just below the handle there’s a turn lock and she flicks it closed.
On the other side of the glass, the others stand looking at her in stunned disbelief. She quickly turns away, ignoring their warbling voices, the thumping on the door. She faces the gurney and her hands begin to shake. She wants to be sick. But she has to do this, she has to see, has to be sure. Julia steps forward and unzips the bag to the sternum. Glimpses red and yellow cloth. A T-shirt filthy with blood and dirt. Torn at the breasts. Flesh as gray as a fava bean. Oh, Toni.
Behind her a rattle on the door, a key in a lock.
Julia keeps going. Even though it hurts, she keeps going. She unzips the bag right down to the hips and spreads the canvas apart. Her hand flies to her mouth. The face is nothing but a cave. The hair, red and bloody. Missing ears, too.
She forces herself to keep looking. But there’s no way to know from the face whether it’s Toni or not. Julia steps closer, toward the end of the gurney, near the feet. She touches the left leg and lifts it up. The weight of it sickens her in a way she isn’t expecting. She nearly gives up and walks away. Instead she swallows down her fear. She has to do this. She has to know it’s not a mistake. She lifts the leg higher, checks behind the knee, lowers it.
When she turns, Leo, Christine Fletcher, and Detective Muhtar are there, the door wide open behind them.
“It’s not Toni,” she says.
“What do you mean?” exclaims Leo, eyes darting to the body. “Are you sure?”
“There’s no strawberry birthmark behind the knee.”
“Toni has a birthmark?” says Christine.
Leo nods. “Shaped like a clover. Big, about the size of a fist.”
Christine frowns. “You never mentioned that before.”
Julia’s legs are shaking. “You put us through that for nothing.”
Christine’s lost for words. “Julia, I’m sorry, I don’t know how this happened.”
But Julia doesn’t believe her.
27
Julia and Leo stand outside the hotel entrance as Detective Muhtar pulls away in his dented Fiat.
“Do you want to talk?” says Leo.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. How could you be? That was as traumatic as hell.”
She looks at him. The bruise on his forehead has turned a nasty shade of gray.
“That looks sore,” she says. “Do you need pain relief? There’s ibuprofen in my suitcase.”
Leo crosses his arms. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Dodge my question.”
She squints at the sky. “Yes, all right,” she says. “For a minute, I did think it was Toni and it wasn’t very nice.”
She considers telling him about her gut feeling that something is off with Christine Fletcher but she doesn’t have anything concrete so decides to keep it to herself for now.
She glances over her shoulder. “I need to get some air, walk around for a bit.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“I’d rather be on my own.”
Leo jams his hands in his pockets. “Suit yourself.” He turns to go inside the hotel but changes his mind. “You always do this,” he says.
“Do what?”
“Freeze me out.”
“I’m not freezing you out.”
“Aren’t you?” he says. “Have you ever thought that sharing how you feel might actually help?”
“You’re blowing things out of proportion.”
He shakes his head, exasperated. “You don’t trust me, I get that, God knows you’ve made that crystal clear, but holding things in isn’t healthy either.”
Julia feels a sudden burst of anger. “Are you sick of this, Leo? Is that it? You want to go back to your comfortable life? Missing your power tools and Monday night football?”
He shakes his head. “You’re not listening, Julia.”
She raises her voice, knows she should stop but can’t. “You’re here to soothe your own conscience, Leo, nothing more. We both know that’s how you operate. Face it. You look after number one and always have.”
Leo bangs his fist into his palm. “One time, Julia. One mistake. Years ago. It cost me my marriage.
