"Already been identified," the young man said after looking at the slip. "She's waiting for pick-up."

Rob's voice was flat. "She's going to be identified again."

The attendant shrugged and ran his finger down a list. He stopped near the bottom.

"Seventeen-B," he said as he rose from his chair.

He led them through another set of double doors, heavier than the first, into a larger room where the temperature was a good twenty degrees cooler. She saw a coarse concrete floor, white tiled walls, and latched drawers. The far wall was a giant mosaic of latched drawers, three high and too many in width to count. Big drawers. People-sized drawers.

Kara hung back as the attendant headed for row seventeen. He reached for the handle on the second drawer down, and pulled.

A seismic shudder ran through her.

I can't do this!

As the drawer slid out with a harsh grating noise that echoed off the bare floor and tiled walls, she forced herself forward. She had to do this. There was no one else.

A body bag lay on the tray within the drawer. Kara looked past it as stomach acid began to well up into her throat.

This can't be real. This isn't really happening.

She willed herself not to feel anything. She would feel later. Now she would only look.

She stared at the attendant as he pulled down the zipper and pushed back the plastic. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rob turn away. Fists clenched, jaw tight, she forced herself to look down.