It was my fault. I couldn’t help feeling that it was my fault. In the end the coroner came back to make us leave. As the coroner started to cover Zezi;s face with the white sheet, Zezi hand fell off the gurney.
With a gasp Finch grabbed it. The coroner pushed him away and made us leave the room.
Outside Finch stood trembling as I flagged down a cab.
“It wasn’t her,” he said.
“I’m so sorry, Finch,” I said.
“It wasn’t her!” he shouted. “Zezi had a scar on her wrist. This body had none. It wasn’t Zezi!”
A cab pulled up and I had to make Finch get into it. I rode with him back to his university halls of residence. He didn’t say a single word for the entire journey, and then he got out of the other end and slammed the door shut behind him.
I got out too. “I’m sorry Finch,” I said to him. “I’m so sorry. We will find out who did this. I promise.”
“It wasn’t her,” he told me again, a burning expression in his eyes. “She’s still alive. I know it.”
I could understand his refusal to believe she was dead. “I’m so sorry,” I said again. I told him that I would call him.
“Yeah, right,” he said. He didn’t even look at me before walking into his apartment and slamming the door shut with finality.
In my single minded determination to find the Devil Claw Killer I had forgotten that life went on for other people. That death was happening elsewhere too. That there were other people who needed my help and maybe I was letting them down. Finch had been prepared to be my friend, to keep my secret when he had discovered me in the madness of preparing a my kill room. He had trusted me. And I had let him down.
“I’ll find her killer,” I said quietly, but he was already gone.
With a heavy heart I went in to Agency Headquarters late. I went straight to Storm’s office. I needed his help. I had promised to find Zezi’s killer, and I knew that my best chance was with Storm and the team. I planned to beg him to persuade him to take on this case. But when I got there Storm was not in there. A strange woman was sitting behind his desk in his chair.
She had dark hair that glimmered as if full of a magical life of its own. She had gleaming golden skin. A deep thrumming music was coming from her that reminded me strongly of Storm and the music that came from him. It had the power of a thunderstorm. It felt as vast as an ocean. Just like the music that came from Storm.
I frowned at her. “Where is Storm? Who are you?”
She stood up from the chair and smiled at me politely. She extended her hand to shake mine. “I’m Constantine’s wife,” she said. “And you are?”
The End