The morgue beneath the hospital was never truly quiet. The lights hummed, the vents breathed cold air, and the wheels of carts whispered over polished tile. Dr. Vincent Harper had worked there long enough to hear every sound separately.
Kristina had not. She was only three weeks into her forensic rotation, still learning how to keep her hands steady when a file described someone’s whole life in two clipped paragraphs and a time of death.
That morning, the file was worse than most. Two twin girls had collapsed before sunrise, been rushed to the pediatric wing, and pronounced dead within minutes of each other. Their transfer paperwork reached the county medical examiner’s office at 8:13 a.m.
