Seven
It was anticlimactic to resolve to move forward and then not move forward that much. There was real life. And their jobs. There was always a new day with a new body to dig through for Hannah. And it wasn’t like she could use that time to mull the next step. Even the obvious autopsies required concentration. It was, thankfully, all too easy for Hannah to get lost in what one of her brothers like to call “the innards.” After that last autopsy, she was glad she didn’t drink or smoke.
She nodded for her guy to move the body out and tossed yet another pair of gloves into the bin. So far her “move forward” had been to set up a bulletin board. It was old school, but she’d tied it into one of those brainstorming apps. She added some photos from her phone and it looked like “something” only
