Page 25 of When You're Safe

“I’d love to visit Scotland oneday,” Finn said.

“Yeah, it was a big part of mychildhood,” Winters said as the elevator, with another metallic shudder, groundto a halt.

“I thought you grew up in England,”Finn said, the doors now opening to reveal a quiet, sterile, white and graycorridor that went on for some distance.

“I did,” Winters replied. Theystepped out together into the quiet basement area. “But I moved around a lot.”

“That’s why I can’t quite placeyour accent sometimes,” Finn said. “It’s clearly English, but there’s a littletwang to it that’s unusual.”

“I’m not sure whether to take thatas a compliment or not,” Winters observed.

Finn took a few steps forward andthen noticed that Winters wasn’t following. Instead, she was standing lookingpast him to the end of the corridor where a large metal door stood. Above it,the word “Morgue” was lit by a wall light.

“Are you coming?” Finn asked.

Winters cleared her throat. Finnnoticed that her body language was off. It was a little colder down there thanthe rest of the hospital, but that didn’t explain the way Winters’s arms werefolded across her chest, and how her hands were sitting in what was almost astill self-embrace.

Finn knew that was a clear sign oftrying to comfort an anxiety.

“What’s going on, Amelia?” Finnasked in a soft voice.

Winters didn’t take her eyes offof the morgue at the end of the corridor.

“I’m sorry. I thought I could comehere and it wouldn’t matter.”

“You’ve been here before?” Finnasked, already knowing the answer.

Winters nodded. “Yes.”

“It wasn’t for work, was it?”

Winters shook her head. “No.” Shethen looked down at the floor as if trying to compose herself.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Winters shook her head again.

“I can go in by myself…” Finnsuggested.

Finally, Winters looked up andthen walked up to Finn. She patted him on the arm, gently. “It’s okay, Finn.Just a memory. A bad memory. But I’m okay now.”

She then took the lead and startedmarching purposefully for the door to the morgue.

Finn watched her steam ahead for amoment and wondered. A memory came to him, a conversation weeks ago duringtheir first case together. Winters had mentioned that she was engaged once butthe man died.

Finn now wondered if that was whoshe was thinking of; had her fiancé once lay on a cold metal slab in that morgueup ahead?

Winters reached the door and Finnquickly caught up. Winters knocked, and the door opened, revealing a man withbalding black hair, glasses, and a white lab coat.

“Ah, you must be Inspector Wintersand Mr. Wright?” the man said.

“Some do indeed say that I am Mr.Right,” Finn said with a grin, stepping into the morgue, trying to protecthimself from the solemn atmosphere as best he could.

“I see,” the man said, looking alonghis nose up at Finn.

“I am Inspector Winters. Pleaseignore my colleague’s jokes, he’s actually quite capable… when chaperoned.”

“My name is Wilfred Amblin,” theman said, shaking both of their hands. “I am the senior pathologist here. I wasgiven word by Chief Constable Collins that you were on your way.”

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