He nodded. ‘Are you?’ he whispered back, and she shrugged because she wasn’t okay.
‘It’s rude to whisper.’ Declan had one hand on his hip and in his other was a scalpel.
‘Sorry, it is,’ Morgan replied.
He winked at her. ‘Susie, give me a hand, let’s remove Dawson’s clothes. Have you guys got what you need?’ he asked Joe and Claire, who nodded.
They worked diligently and in silence, all of them lost in their own worlds of grief and sadness for Dawson. Morgan couldn’t watch when, after everything had been measured andphotographed, Declan declared, ‘I’m going to make the Y-incision now, just to prewarn you all.’
Morgan looked across the room to the wall where the radio and Echo were instead, trying to think of things to take her mind off what was happening, because the last thing she needed was to faint. Declan was studying Dawson’s lungs to determine if he died before or after he went into the water.
‘The head injury is too severe to have been caused by him hitting his head on a rock in the water. Before I even examine that I can tell by the visible bone fragments that it is a blunt-force trauma injury sustained before he went into the water. What I’m looking for is to see if he was already dead before he was put into the lake, but I won’t know until I remove his lungs and check to see how much lake water is in them.’
Morgan closed her eyes and thought about New York. She and Ben had strolled Greenwich Village for hours, until they’d come across a tattoo shop called Tiny Zaps. Intrigued, she’d gone inside and chosen a tiny tattoo design off an old space invaders machine; in less than thirty minutes she’d left the shop with an apple with NYC written across it. Happy with her permanent souvenir of the city she’d fallen in love with, she found she could block out the noise of the pruners as they were chopping through Dawson’s rib cage.
TWENTY-FOUR
Morgan, Ben and Declan sat in his office drinking fresh filter coffee with cream, which reminded Morgan of her favourite little diner in New York, just off West 10th Street in Greenwich Village. The rain softly hit the small window behind them, soothing her soul a little. She loved the rain – when she wasn’t working outside in it. They were sharing a packet of Jammie Dodgers, the biscuits reminding her of her teenage years, so many memories were surfacing today.
Declan’s left eye had dark bruising under it that had spread up from his nose, and it looked a mess.
‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your nose is definitely broken,’ Morgan told him.
‘I know, I can’t wait to show Theo. It’s years since I’ve been in a fight, well technically this wasn’t a fight, but I was assaulted. Does it make me look more dark and rugged like the heroes in those books Susie has started to read?’
Ben’s jaw was sporting the same dark, purplish-brown bruising along the left side. He shook his head. ‘Yeah, well my jaw is killing, it hurts to talk. I’m not quite as excited by my injuries as you are.’
‘Man up,’ said Declan, who then collapsed in a fit of giggles at his joke.
Morgan had just taken a sip of coffee and ended up spurting it all in Ben’s direction, which made him look even more pissed off as he brushed the front of his shirt with his fingers.
‘You two think this is funny? Christ, it’s like working with a group of kids, and what the hell is that supposed to mean, Declan, “man up”?’
Declan was clutching his side, lost to the laughter he was trying hard to contain and failing miserably. Morgan turned away from him because he was making her laugh even more, and it really wasn’t funny, but it was. Declan slapped his knee, then coughed.
‘Sorry, my bad.’ Then he laughed even harder. Morgan thought she had it under control but lost it as well.
‘For fuck’s sake, I’m going to make a phone call. Let me know when playtime is over and we can discuss the post-mortem of that teenage boy who didn’t deserve any of this.’ Ben stood up and walked out, leaving them staring at each other. Morgan stopped laughing, so did Declan.
‘Shit, he’s really mad.’ Declan stared after him.
Morgan nodded. ‘He’s tired and hungry, we’ve been working since we got the call in the early hours, and I don’t think he’s eaten apart from those three biscuits.’
‘Poor beggar, I don’t know what came over me.’
‘It’s not you, Declan, well it wasn’t all you. He seems to have taken this one bad. We all get cases that really get under our skin.’
He nodded. ‘You too, I saw the tears in your eyes and the pain when I was doing the PM.’
‘Kids, teenagers, they’re tough to deal with.’
‘They are, but you have to remember we’re here to help them on their final transition. We’re the only ones who can figure itout and get justice for them, give them a voice when theirs was taken away so cruelly. That’s why I can do it, I mean I don’t particularly enjoy cutting open a young, fit teenager that should still be flirting around, enjoying music and making their parents’ lives a misery. I do it because I’m their last hope of being heard, and it makes me feel as if I’ve got some purpose in life and I’m putting my skills to good use; otherwise what have we got?’
This time Morgan let the tears flow. She swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper.
‘Why is life so crap for some people, and hard? It’s cruel.’
Declan reached out and took hold of her hand, and the warmth of his hand on her icy skin felt good.
