Survivor in Death (In Death 20)

“You didn’t hurt them.”

“No, I didn’t. I’ll take you to them now. Level B,” he ordered, and the wide elevator began its descent. “I know Dr. Mira and Lieutenant Dallas have explained some of this to you, but if you have any questions you can ask me.”

“I watch a show about a man who does work on dead bodies. I’m not really supposed to, but Coyle can, and sometimes I sneak.”

“Dr. Death? I watch that sometimes myself.” The doors opened into the long, cool white corridor. “It’s a little more entertaining than it is accurate. I don’t chase the bad guys, for instance—I leave that in the capable hands of the police, like Lieutenant Dallas.”

“You have to cut them open sometimes.”

“Yes. I try to find something that will help the police.”

“Did you find something with my mom and dad, with my brother?”

“Everything Morris has done has helped,” Eve said.

They stopped by double doors, their small, round observation windows screened now. Nixie reached for Eve’s hand, but they were jammed in pockets. She settled for Mira’s. “Are they in there?”

“Yes.” Morris paused again. “Are you ready to go in?”

She only nodded.

She would smell it, of course, Eve thought. No matter what sterilizer they used, it never quite masked the smell of death, the fluids and liquids and flesh.

She would smell it, and never forget it.

“Can I see my daddy first? Please.”

Her voice trembled a little, and when Eve looked down she saw Nixie was pale, but her face was set with a concentrated determination.

So nor would she forget it, Eve thought. She wouldn’t forget this kind of courage, the kind it had to take for a child to stand, to wait while her father—not a monster, but a father—was drawn out of a steel drawer.

Morris had masked the throat wound with the magic of his enhancers. He had draped the body with a clean white sheet. But dead was dead.

“Can I touch him?”

“Yes.” Morris set a stool by the drawer, helped her climb onto it, and stood by her, his hand lightly on her shoulder. She brushed her fingers—light as a wish—over her father’s cheek.

“He has a scratchy face. Sometimes he rubs it on mine to make me laugh. It’s dark in the drawer.”

“I know, but I think where he is now, it’s not.”

She nodded, silent tears trickling down her face. “He had to go to heaven, even though he didn’t want to.” And when she leaned over, touched her lips to her father’s cheek, Eve felt the hot ball of tears in her own belly.

“You can put him back now.” She climbed off the stool, took the tissue Mira offered her. “Maybe I can see Coyle now.”

She touched her brother’s hair, studied his face in a way that made Eve think she was trying to see him alive again. “Maybe he can play baseball all the time now. He likes baseball best.”

She asked for Inga, touched her hair as well. “Sometimes she baked cookies—the ones with sugar. She’d pretend it was a secret, but I knew Mom told her it was okay.”

She stepped off the stool again. Her face wasn’t pale now, but flushed from the tears. Eve could see her chest tremble with the effort to hold them back.

“Linnie’s not here. They took her already. They didn’t let me see her or say good

-bye. I know they’re mad at me.”

“They’re not.” Eve looked down when Nixie turned to her. “I saw Linnie’s mother today, and she’s not mad at you. She’s upset, like you are. She’s sad and upset, but she’s not mad at you. She asked about you. She wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“She’s not mad? You swear?”