Part 17 (2/2)
After that, a supply room afforded him a choice of lab coats complete with name tags. Again, he took his time, deciding he looked more like a MacDonald than a DeVries, Garcia or Gustafson. h.e.l.l, maybe it didn't matter. This was America.
After that, he walked down the halls with complete confidence, found the right staircase and then reached the morgue.
Cold and sad. Technology had done little to alter the character of the place.
There was a lone attendant, a young man sitting at the desk outside the door. An ID tag offered up his name: David Hayes. He was engrossed in a sci-fi novel. When Bryan entered, he glanced up looking guilty as his eyes fell back to the pages. Then he dragged them up again.
”Sorry,” he murmured quickly.
”No problem.”
”Thanks. Evening, Doctor...MacDonald.”
”Evening. I need one of the bodies that came in today.”
”The gunshot victim?”
”No, the girl who was over in Europe.”
”Second cubicle on the left. They're all clearly tagged.”
”Thanks.”
Bryan started into the room. He had barely made it to the second doorway when the lights suddenly went out, pitching the morgue into a cold sea of blackness.
An autopsy meant Mary would be in the hospital morgue. Jessica hoped and prayed that Mary might not have become...what she was about to become, but the truth was, she knew.
The very fact that Bryan MacAllistair was here was a warning.
But Mary hadn't been alone at night. That was the puzzle.
In the end, it didn't matter. Jessica was certain she needed to find the poor girl's corpse. That night.
By day, there were so many people milling around, by night, so few.
She had thought about calling Sean, but she decided she didn't want him involved. He was on his way up the cop ladder, and he didn't need any questions being asked about his integrity. Or his sanity. No, this was something she had to take care of on her own.
In a supply room, she chose a green cleaning-crew jacket. She already had a fake identification. She also took a bucket and a mop, which gave off the strong odor of antibacterial cleaning solution. She put on a head scarf and a mask against the fumes, and mumbled a few words with a French accent to the attendant on duty at the morgue.She could hardly ask for the location of the body she was interested in; she would just have to find it.
She moved down the hall and entered the first room.
Six gurneys. Five held the earthly remains of patients who had died. She noted with a sinking heart that the sixth was draped with a sheet but otherwise empty.
Then the lights went out.
David Hayes swore softly in amazement. Was it a flipping blackout? And if so, why hadn't the emergency lights kicked on?
Was it the whole hospital? Or just the morgue?
He started to stand, then felt a hand on his shoulder.
”Hey, handsome.”
The whisper was soft, feminine and totally s.e.xual. He froze, even as her voice awakened his libido.
Who the h.e.l.l did he know who would seduce him in the morgue during a blackout?
At last purple emergency lights flickered on to illuminate the room.
His eyes widened. His jaw dropped. Lord...
The most beautiful creature he'd seen in his whole life was standing in front of him.
Totally naked.
Blond and beautiful, with enormous b.r.e.a.s.t.s and a tiny waist. Not an ounce of cellulite on her. Her complexion was pale and perfect. Her eyes were enormous and...carnal.
She smiled, a finger touching his lips. ”I've been waiting. We're alone, aren't we?”
They weren't alone, he thought. There was a cleaning lady somewhere. And a doctor. And the lights would come back on any minute, and...he didn't care.
”I've been watching you,” she said softly. Her fingers trailed down his face. He needed to tell her that they weren't alone, but he couldn't.
He needed this job. It was his way of making it through school. He liked it. He sat at the desk, and he read. It was quiet, and it paid well, and it beat the h.e.l.l out of sweating to death in a coffee house or a burger joint. If he got caught, he could kiss it goodbye.
He needed to tell her.
But his lips wouldn't work.
He could only stare at her.
Her hands were cold.
This was a morgue, for G.o.d's sake. The whole place was cold. At last he managed to open his mouth, but no sound came.
She smiled deeply, watching his face. ”Silly boy...”
It sounded as if she were hissing. Like a snake.
Her tongue teased his lips. Cold, so cold...
Something was wrong.
She started to kiss him. She might be cold, and this might be a morgue, but he was suddenly on fire. He reached out, acting on instinct. Lord, she was built. And her cold lips on his, then against his throat...
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