The colossal stupidity of this whole scheme was settling on her shoulders; she realized that because she had spent the day and part of the night with Travis, he might have been willing to share the information about the dead man’s identity. She should’ve at least asked.
One more door. She’d give herself one more door. It was becoming more routine, the cool touch of the metal, the heavy clunk of the latch, the swoosh of the seal, and the satisfying swing of the door. This one was full. Her hands were shaking as she reached out to flip over the manila tag, bending closer to read the handwritten words on it. Male. Unidentified. Gunshot wound. And then her sister’s address.
This was it. She wasn’t going to hesitate or turn back now. Glad that she lifted people on gurneys day in and day out, she used all the strength in her upper arms to roll the heavy drawer all the way out until it bounced as it ran out of track. The big black bag was cold to the touch, and the metal zipper pull stuck to her finger pads. Ellie unzipped the bag like she’d been doing it her whole life. There was no real smell since the body was fresh and newly washed to help with identification.
She didn’t need to see much more than his face. Hopefully he would be somewhat familiar despite his wound. Ellie had some guesses as to who was on the other side of that black plastic. She now knew it wasn’t Caleb, and something inside her urged that it wasn’t some random stranger. Maybe Sam, the day worker Steve believed was behind the vandalism on their work site. Or that Tom guy they fired for leaving their last work site open. Or maybe . . .
Ellie slid her hand in between the open sides of the zipper and pulled it back slowly, exposing one side of the man’s face. There was a large wound taking up the majority of the right side of his cheek. At first the wound drew her eye because it was bigger than you’d expect for a gunshot victim, and her paramedic mind started to work through where the bullet entered and exited, how much blood was involved, and whether there would have been any hope for survival if she’d gotten there sooner. But the professional assessment of the man’s wound ended when her phone buzzed in her pocket.
An unknown ring at five a.m. meant one thing in her mind—Amelia.
She’d just seen her. Her vitals were strong—she wouldn’t have left otherwise—but to get a call this soon . . . It couldn’t be good. Ellie wanted nothing more than to pick up the call; instead, she reached into her back pocket, and rather than pulling it out and hitting Talk, she pressed the side button that sent the call to voice mail.
Ellie’s hand hovered over her back pocket for a few seconds longer after she discontinued the call. Part of her worried the phone would ring again right away, and another part of her completely regretted hanging up. All she’d wanted since sending her sister off in the ambulance yesterday morning was to stand by her side and hold her hand. And now that she could be holding vigil over her unconscious form, Ellie was chasing answers. That realization alone should have been enough to refocus her, but it wasn’t. She’d come this far. She wanted to know who was inside the bag.
Wasting no more time, Ellie gathered all her courage and pulled the bag apart, splitting it in the middle like she was ripping open a shirt. She’d only pulled the zipper down to the man’s midchest area, but when she yanked at the edges, it opened to his waist. She may not have been able to recognize him by the injured side of his face, but she knew him once she saw the familiar tattoo on his stiff, graying forearm—an arrow pointing to his wrist, a name written down the shaft. Stella.
“Randy,” Ellie whispered, her breath making his hair ripple. She’d only met him once, and it had been very . . . memorable to say the least. It was just over a week ago, and now Ellie felt guilty she hadn’t thought to mention it to Travis earlier. Well, that wasn’t true; she had thought of mentioning it, but it put Caleb in a bad light, and with all the complexities of the situation, she’d avoided any anecdotes about her soon-to-be brother-in-law that made him sound unhinged. But now she wondered if Randy’s mental state on that day should’ve been a clue at things to come.
“Randy,” she whispered, not sure how to fit him into the narrative that had been forming in her mind. Now, it was all blank. “My God, it was Randy.”
A light flicked on in the office and Ellie clamped a hand over her mouth, frozen as though lack of movement would make her disappear. She could see into the office as clearly as watching the attendant on a TV screen. It would be a little harder for the woman on the other side of the glass to see her unless she was looking closely.
The woman looked young, a short blonde ponytail hiked up on the crown of her head. She seemed preoccupied with a bowl of oatmeal in one hand and tossing papers and pens into a gray-and-white bag sitting on one of the two office chairs in the room. She was probably at the end of a twelve-hour shift and ready to leave, and though that worked to Ellie’s advantage as she packed up, it would soon turn into a disadvantage when she came to do a final check before she handed the reins over to the day crew.
“Damn it,” Ellie whispered. This time she forgot to be quiet and slammed the door shut with a click that resonated through her arms and around the room. Her sneakers squeaked on the floor made up of tiny tiles as she turned quickly. She needed speed over silence.
With a hand on her back pocket to make sure the phone didn’t fall out, Ellie dashed for the doors, her right foot slipping and causing her to stumble. Her knee cracked against the floor, and a sharp stab of pain raced through her knee and femur. Adrenaline taking over, she leaped up as though the floor were made of rubber.
Limping now, she burst through the first set of doors like she was running into an emergency, forgetting about the hall window with the speaker hole that allowed direct access to the morgue office where sane people would sign in and wait for someone who knew what they were doing to go inside. Thankfully, the room was still empty, and though that could mean that the woman inside might be waiting for her on the other side of the second set of doors, it also meant that Ellie had a moment to recover.
Ellie walked through as calmly and naturally as she could manage. The hall was empty still, one of the twin fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickering.
The elevator was just a few steps away, and Ellie felt a surge of relief and also a tiny thrill of victory. She’d just seen a man, who had once been a friend to her sister, dead and disfigured—but it was also the first time in the past twelve hours that she felt like she’d actually completed a task she’d set out to accomplish.