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Seventeen
Abby was still shakingtwenty minutes after she’d identified her father’s body. She sat in a long white hallway on a cold plastic chair, the pale blue light of the morgue casting a ghostly pall over everything aroundher.
Max had offered to identify the body, but it didn’t feel right to pawn it off on someone else. Besides, Max hadn’t really known her father. She asked him to wait in the hall while she’d stepped into the sterile roomalone.
Her father had looked almost peaceful, laying on the table. If it hadn’t been for the bruising around his forehead, she might have thought he wasasleep.
Except he wasn’t asleep. He wasgone.
She’d shaken off the morgue worker who tried to lead her out of the room after only a couple minutes. She would never see her father again. She didn’t want to look back and wish she’d spent more time with him at theend.
“Abby, the doctor wants to talk toyou.”
She looked up to find Max leaning down next toher.
“Doctor?” Why would a doctor want to talk toher?
Her father wasdead.
“The doctor who performed the autopsy,” Max saidgently.
“I don’t…” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can dothat.”
She didn’t want the gory details of the autopsy. It had been bad enough to see his batteredbody.
“I can ask him if he’ll release the information to me,” Maxsaid.
“Information?” She might have felt stupid for repeating simple words if her head had been clear enough tocare.
“About the cause ofdeath.”
Through her own pain she could see how it hurt Max to use these words with her. Could see how much he wanted to fix this. To changeit.
“Will you come with me?” she askedhim.
He held out a hand. “I’m not goinganywhere.”
She took his hand and he helped her to her feet. He led her to a room at the end of the hall. It was small, the decor outdated but tidy. A man with glasses and a shining pate sat behind the desk. He stood when sheentered.
“I’m Doctor Kowalski,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m so very sorry for yourloss.”
She was on autopilot as she shook hishand.
He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please have a seat. Can I get you something? Water? Coffee?Tea?”
“No, thankyou.”
He nodded and opened a file on his desk. “I was the doctor who performed your father’s autopsy. There were some… inconsistencies I’ll need to refer to the police. I wanted to give you the informationfirst.”
“What kind ofinconsistencies?”
She was glad Max had asked the question. She was barely making sense of the words coming from the doctor’smouth.
“Mr. Sterling died of blunt force trauma to the back of the head,” Doctor Kowalskisaid.
“Was he wearing his seatbelt?” Maxasked.
“Officers reported he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt when they arrived, which could account for the trauma to the back of the head, but his other injuries aren’t consistent with the speed of the crash and the lack of a safetyharness.”
