“Maybe a sun symbol,” the doctor replied.

“I didn’t notice that when I brought her in,” Vincent said.

“There was a lot more blood then. We’ve cleaned her up. Amazing what comes out in the wash.” He smiled briefly but Vincent and I remained stony-faced. “How do you want her?”

“What do you mean?” Vincent asked.

“You want us to leave her like she is or should we bloody her up again, make it look like she’s just been killed? She’s to be returned to the scene of the crime as I understand things.”

“Yeah.” Vincent scratched his nose uncertainly. “Fuck it, I got my suit bloody bringing her here — no point ruining it again dragging her back. We’ll take her clean.”

“Shouldn’t we get a bag or something?” I asked.

“Doc?” Vincent sniffed.

“I think some form of wrapping would be appropriate.”

“Then step to it, man! We’re working to a tight schedule.” Vincent smiled at me as the doctor bristled and clicked his fingers at one of his assistants. “Pays to keep them on their toes,” he whispered.

“I wouldn’t pester them,” I whispered back. “Never know how they might take it out on you if you turn up here dead.”

Vincent shrugged. “Like it matters a fuck at that stage. C’mon — let’s turn her, so we’re ready to tip her in. You wanna take the left or right side?”

“I don’t care.”

“Then I’ll take the right — don’t want to be the first to hear her heart if it starts beating again.” He laughed ghoulishly and grabbed her arm as the assistant arrived with the bag. I took the other arm. It was cold. Stiff. Clammy. “Ready?” he asked and I nodded. “One. Two. Three.”

We flipped her onto her back. Vincent tugged her toward the edge of the slab. I started pushing but then my gaze fell on her face and I froze.

“At least look like you’re trying,” Vincent huffed. “Don’t leave me to do it all by my—”

He caught sight of my face and stopped.