Chapter 2

At nine the next morning, Samuel walked into the autopsy room right on time.

He had milk and pancakes, which Winona had bought, in the pocket of his white coat. He ate them in the changing room before coming into the autopsy room.

I knew it all because I'd followed him all the way from our home to here.

His home used to be mine, too. But now, no one would leave notes on the fridge. The pothos on the balcony withered, and my slippers were shoved into the farthest corner of the shoe cabinet, gathering dust. He didn't even touch them.

Someone else was already in the autopsy room.

It wasn't Winona. It was Grace.

Grace was the assistant medical examiner at the forensics center. She was forty-three, wore silver-rimmed glasses, and took her time, paying attention to every detail. She kept out of trouble and kept her distance from everyone.

She was flipping through last night's preliminary examination records. "Good morning, Samuel."

"Morning," Samuel said, pulling on his gloves and heading over to the autopsy table.

Winona wasn't here yet, so Grace prepped the instruments for her. "Where did you leave off last night?"

"We finished the basic checks on the chest and abdomen and took eight tissue samples. They are numbered and recorded right here," Samuel said, pointing to the record book. "Today, we're moving on to the head, face, and limbs."

"Got it," Grace replied, moving to the left side of the body and starting her examination from the wrist. She worked slowly, palpating inch by inch through her gloves.

When she reached the left wrist, she paused. She pressed her thumb over a spot a couple of times, then picked up a magnifying glass and leaned in for a closer look. "Samuel?"

"What is it?" Samuel asked.

"There's an old fracture on the left wrist. It didn't heal properly. I can feel a noticeable ridge," Grace said.

"Note that down," Samuel said, not looking up as he worked on the muscle layer of the right arm.

Grace glanced at him, put the magnifying glass aside, and picked up her pen to jot down a single line in the record book.

Her hand lingered over the paper for a couple of seconds, as if she wanted to add more, but in the end, she left an unembellished description.

I hovered above her, looking at the line she had written. [An old fracture at the distal end of the left radius, approximately three to five years old.]

It should be three years and eleven months. I clarified that detail for her.

Winona didn't show up until 9:40 AM.

When she pushed the door open, the scent of shampoo trailed in after her. Her hair was freshly tied back. The ponytail was so sleek it looked like it could drip water.

"Sorry, Sam, I got stuck in traffic," she said.

Samuel grunted, not looking at her.

Winona walked to the other side of the autopsy table, giving a glance at the notebook Grace was writing in, but she didn't linger.

"I'll handle the head and face," Winona said. "This body has been in the water way too long. The soft tissue on the face is pretty much useless. I'll see if I can pull any useful info from the teeth and cheekbones."

"Sure," Samuel replied.

"Grace, could you hand me that set of small bone shears?" Winona asked.

Grace set down her pen and turned to the instrument cabinet.

As Winona took the tool, her fingers brushed against the back of Grace's hand. "Thanks, Gracie. You're always so careful. No wonder Samuel counts on you so much," Winona teased.

Winona's voice was sweet, but Grace's hand flinched.

I'd heard that tone before.

Back in our second year of marriage, Winona got transferred back to Jinsolin from overseas and joined the forensics center.

She came over for dinner and kept saying, "Emily, your cooking is amazing," and "Emily, you take such good care of Sam." Her praise sounded so genuine, and her smile was so dazzling.

After she left that night, Samuel said something while he was doing the dishes. "Look at Winona. She knows what to say to make people feel good. Can't you learn a thing or two from her?"

I was mopping the floor. When I heard that, I paused, leaving the mop pressed against the tile for three seconds.

I didn't say a word. I put the mop back on the balcony and closed the door.

What should I learn from her? About how to smile while throwing shade with a compliment?

In the autopsy room, Winona had already started working on the head and face.

Her technique was quicker than Grace's and softer than Samuel's. Every move was crisp and graceful, almost as if she were performing for an audience.

"The face is pretty much destroyed. There is nothing we can use. But the cheekbones are intact, so we can make a mold and run a comparison," Winona said.

"What about the teeth?" Samuel asked.

"I'm cleaning them up now. A few are missing, but the rest should be usable for matching. I'll get in touch with the dental database team this afternoon," Winona replied.

"Make it quick," Samuel said, straightening up and rolling his neck.

Winona handed him a bottle of water. "Sam, take a break. When did you get to bed last night?"

"A little after three," Samuel replied.

"You can't keep going like this. You'll end up wrecking your health. At least when Emily was around, someone was keeping an eye on you. Now, she's not..." Winona bit her lip, as if she had made a mistake. "Sorry, I brought her up again."

"It's fine," Samuel said, twisting open the bottle and taking a sip. "Honestly, it's a lot more peaceful without her."

Grace stood in the corner. She pretended she hadn't heard a thing as she sorted through the specimens with her head down. But she kept pushing her glasses up, again and again.

It was something she would only do when she was nervous.

I'd seen it before at the center's dinners. Whenever someone asked her about a case she couldn't talk about, she'd keep fiddling with her glasses.

What got her so on edge? Did she catch something off, or did she recall something she shouldn't?

Winona suddenly turned and asked, "Grace, did you log the data for that fracture on the left wrist into the system?"

"Yes," Grace replied.

"Send me a copy, will you? I'll add it when I put everything together," Winona said.

"Sure," Grace replied, closing the record book and tucking it under her arm as she walked out.

As she reached the door, she shot one last look at the body on the autopsy table. Her eyes lingered on the left wrist.

It was a split second, but I caught it.