Page 4 of The Unforgiven

“No need. If I desperately need sleep I’ll crash somewhere else for the night, but I don’t think we’re going to have overtime authorised for this.” I wiped my hands on my trousers, something Lucy would never do.

She looked interested. “Why? When that girl went missing you worked like forty hours straight.”

“We have zero leads. We don’t know the victim’s identity, and the early hours in an investigation are crucial, but as of one-thirty this morning, we don’t have anything to go off. Things can change though.” Which they’d done before, but then, they’d also not changed. Some murders went unsolved, freezing into cold cases with a killer who’d gotten away with it.

Lucy sighed and sat down at the kitchen table with her perfectly made coffee, her hair looking like she’d stepped out of a salon rather than having just gotten out of bed. “Your job is so much more interesting than mine. I’ve got bottom set year nines for history period one and that’s probably the highlight of the day.”

“I’m starting the day by watching someone weigh organs. I’d rather have bottom set year nine.” I’d rather have anything than watching Dr Miz and her saw.

“You win. At least I only have today and tomorrow and then it’s the holidays. I saw Cavan yesterday. He said he was booking that restaurant in Didsbury for Friday for you.” She sipped delicately at her coffee.

Lucy was half a foot taller than me, and even though I had a background in gymnastics from being a kid, she was the epitome of grace. I was always rushing, forgetting to do something with my hair which was why it was in a bob, and forever wearingclothes that weren’t quite ironed properly because I never had the time.

“Crap. I forgot about that. I should be able to get there.” I hoped. It was something to look forward to, a date with the man who was meant to be my boyfriend. Cavan worked at the same school, Moorbridge High, as Lucy, one of the assistant heads. I’d met him when Lucy and I’d had a night out in Manchester, and she’d semi arranged to meet some colleagues. He was far more of a pretty boy than my usual, but I liked him. He was fun and not interested in my work, which was useful. There’d been boyfriends who’d been too keen to know about my job, their fascination with true crime and knowing things other people didn’t what they were really interested in sometimes.

“I think he’s really looking forward to it. He was talking about it in the staffroom yesterday.” She stretched and yawned. “Better get a shower. I need to fix the screen in my classroom, or find someone to fix the screen, which will probably be harder than you finding your murderer.”

Nick turned up with a takeaway coffee for Dr Miz as well, both of us having learned that she was less likely to go into too much detail if she was well-caffeinated. We arrived at the Greater Manchester Forensics Unit almost at the same time, Nick looking like he was here to undergo a procedure usually reserved for the dead rather than observe one.

“Did you sleep?” I asked him, once we’d been robbed of the coffees.

“I have a four-month-old. I no longer know what sleep is.” He gave me a satisfied grin. “She’s cute when she’s not crying though.”

I followed him through to the viewing gallery, the hum of the florescent lights like a distant engine. I’d worked with some copswho tried to get as close as possible mainly so they could impart their wisdom on the pathologist.

I stayed as far away as possible.

The body of the woman lay on the mortuary slab, covered to her chin, preserving what dignity we could afford her. I took one glance and then looked anywhere but her.

“Not your favourite thing, this, is it, Mac?” Nick grinned at my expense.

I knew any colour had left my face.

“I’d rather read the report.”

“Funny. You usually don’t trust things unless you see them first-hand.”

“Apart from Dr Miz. I trust her.” I concentrated on breathing and not throwing up my protein shake.

Dr Miz swept into the room and smiled at us like she was about to receive an Oscar.

“I’m so glad it’s the two of you. If it was Detective Sergeant Vinny Leigh his member would shortly be occupying a sample jar.” She snapped on gloves. “Please let him know that and also pass on that it wouldn’t have needed a big jar. A small one would suffice.”

“Did you know about this?” Nick whispered to me.

“I found out at the scene. I don’t think she’s happy with Vinny.”

He made some sort of curious noise and focused back on what Dr Miz was doing.

I focused on breathing again, the smell of antiseptic, stale coffee, and something iron-rich and clinical that even the filters couldn't quite erase pervading my senses. Too familiar. So strange.

On the table beyond the glass lay the woman who would be the centre of our focus until we’d found who’d killed her.

Now with the body cleaned, hair combed and wounds mapped with forensic markers, she didn’t look at peace. In the elements last night, she hadn’t looked real. Now, with us about to find out about every nook and cranny of her physical life, she looked wrong. The angle of her jaw. The mess of violence where her stomach used to be.

The joke ended. A careful silence settled over the room, waiting for someone’s whole story to be unpacked by a stranger with a scalpel.

Dr Miz stood with practiced stillness, dictating into a recorder. I’d missed the start. I didn’t regret it.