Ripley and Sutherland thrust themselves through the swinging doors of the morgue.
“Hey Mark, Dale,” Jackie Fields uttered grimly, looking at them both from over the silent corpse that was stretched out on the stainless steel table like a beached whale. “About time you showed up. We have some interesting developments here.”
She discarded her blood coated latex gloves, and signaled the men over to the table. The antiseptic odour mixed with the coppery smell of blood and bleach was almost overwhelming to Ripley’s hyper-sensitive olfactory system. Once again, Ripley’s brows crinkled as he smelled the faint scent of...
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