Page 58 of You Will Never Be Me

“Same. It’s just so surreal.”

Clara’s mouth turns into a thin line. “I’m sorry that the vultures have turned on you.”

“Yeah, it’s not great, but when they find the guy who did this, they’ll go away. I have faith the police will catch the sick fucker.”

Clara nods, looking out the window.

“Do you have any ideas who could’ve done this?” I say, sneaking glances at her from my peripheral vision.

“I don’t know,” Clara sighs. “You know what Mer was like. Always rushing someplace. She didn’t really tell me the details of her life. She was always too busy for long chats.”

“Right.”

“Although she did mention she was maybe interested in some guy…”

“Oh?” I grip the steering wheel, trying to contain my curiosity.

“She didn’t tell me anything about him, though. Not even his name.”

“How did they meet?”

“Who knows? She met so many people from ‘the industry,’ ” Clara says, using air quotes. She smiles wryly at me. “God, I used to hate that word. The ‘industry.’ ”

I snort. “We can be pretty pretentious at times, huh?”

“Yep.” She lets her head fall back against the headrest. “I keep obsessing about it. Trying to remember any details she might’ve mentioned about the guy, but I got nothing.” There’s a tremor in her voice again. “My little sister was murdered, and I know nothing.”

“Don’t do that,” I say softly. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”

She nods, sniffling. We drive the rest of the way in silence.

Somehow, there are reporters in front of the police station. I stare dumbly at them, wondering how they beat us here. Then I realize, of course, that they didn’t. They’re probably colleagues of the ones camped outside my house. Not that it matters. A reporter is a reporter is a reporter. Clara and I brisk-walk from the parking lot through the throng of cameras clicking in our faces and shouts of “How do you feel right now, Clara?” and “Are you ready to see the body?” I put an arm around Clara’s shoulders, and the cameras click away with ferocity.Good, I think.Let them see what a supportive friend I’m being.And how innocent I am, obviously, because what killer would march into a freaking police station to identify the body of her own victim?

Of course, it’s easier said than done. Inside the police station, the tiny kernel of unease in my belly grows into a lump as Clara speaks to the reception officer, telling her why we’re here. We’re told to have a seat, and so we do. I look around me at the depressing state of the place, and at all the officers at their desks talking, typing away. They’re probably working Meredith’s case, I realize, and the lump grows into a rock.

“Ms.Lee?” someone calls out, and I jump. It’s a clean-shaven man in his midforties. “Hi, I’m Matt, the coroner. Can you follow me, please?”

We hurry after him down a long corridor until we reach a door that says “AUTOPSY ROOM 2.” Matt stops in front of the door and regards us solemnly. “Before we start, I’d like to warn you of the nature of this procedure. It’ll be disturbing. There’s no other way of saying it. And I’m sorry for your loss. Now, are you ready to identify the body of Meredith Lee?”

The rock metastasizes into a boulder.No, I want to scream.Leave me out here in the hallway. I’m not even a family member. Next to me, Clara slips her hand into mine.

“Yes,” she says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

Matt nods and leads us into the room. It is lit by harsh fluorescent lights and smells so strongly of formaldehyde that my eyes start to sting. And there, in the middle of it, is an examination table with a figure lying on top of it. There is a thin blanket covering the figure. Matt steps toward the corpse and places both hands on the top edge of the blanket.

“Are you ready?” he says gently.

No!

Clara nods. Matt lowers the blanket. I avert my eyes. Clara squeezes my hand so tight I wince. I hear her strangled moan. “Oh god,” she says. “Mer. Oh my god. Mer!”

I realize Matt is looking at me for confirmation too. I’m trapped. No other way out. I have to make myself see her body. Slowly, painfully, I drag my gaze toward the table.

The first thing I notice is how shockingly gray Meredith looks. I never gave much thought to the amount of pink and yellow there is in our skin, but the absence of pigment is striking. She is not the color of a human being. Bile rushes up, and for a second I think I might vomit. My hand is on fire. I pry it loose from Clara’s death grip. Now I see more details, ones I will carry with me forever. The signs of Meredith’s flesh breaking down. Her eyelids and her lips look like little creatures have been nibbling away at them gently, revealing enough of her teeth to make it look like she’s grinning at us. It’s too much. I wrench myself away and stumble out of the room.

Outside, I take deep gulps of air, trying to convince my lungsto keep working. Clara joins me, still sobbing. Matt comes out a second later, carrying a stack of papers. “Come with me, please,” he says, and leads us to a different room. There is a single desk with four chairs around it. “Please, have a seat. There are a few forms I need you to sign.”

Clara accepts the papers and a pen with shaking hands. As she signs the forms to confirm that the body is, indeed, Meredith, I struggle to keep the screaming in my head down.

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