The white walls of the corridor swayed as she battled to stand upright. Each wall was so bright, Gina had to squint to see. The walk reminded her of the house of fun at one of the theme parks she’d taken Hannah to over the years. The further she walked, the more closed in the space became until she had to lie on the floor and wriggle like a worm along the shiny floor. Reaching a little door, she tried the handle. It was locked. The key, it was in the pocket of her nightdress. Sweat began to dampen her hairline as she struggled to reach her pocket. Hand touched metal. Struggling to bring the key around, she placed it in the lock and turned.

Through the door was another room. A room in darkness with a solitary spotlight pointing to a body under the sheet. Her heart pounded. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a body in a mortuary. Maybe she was at work and this was just another one of life’s challenges. After all, as a department they were constantly being squeezed. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Time to wake up. She didn’t wake up – it wasn’t a dream. She wriggled a bit further, pushing her body out of the tiny gap. Hands first, she slid out of the opening and gently landed in a heap on the stone floor. ‘Hello.’ The sound of her call echoed, eerily filling the room.

Why was she wearing a white nightdress? She didn’t even own one. Her gaze travelled down to her feet, which took on a blue hue from the light. Dirt had dried in-between her toes and mud had dried on the tops of her feet. There was no door. The only way out was the way she’d come in.

She flinched as the sheet twitched. She crept towards the gurney, her shaking hands resting on the corner of the sheet. Her heartbeat began to boom until it was all she could hear. Blood pumped through her body. She needed to escape, get outside, and breathe in some fresh air. But she couldn’t. She had to face what was in front of her. More than anything, she needed to peel back the sheet. Holding her breath, she yanked it down and began to gasp. It couldn’t be, no…

Hannah lay in front of her, decay spreading from her neck. Her pale face and closed eyes would stay with her forever. She was only fourteen. She had her whole life ahead of her.

---

Gina crashed onto the living room floor, catching Ebony’s tail. The cat meowed and sprang out of the cat door. Sweat poured down her face as she tried to breathe in for a few seconds, hold, and then breathe out. She was safe. She was in her house and she was alone. Breathe in and out. Slowly, her heart rate returned to normal. She took a sip of the warm white wine that was still on the coffee table, knocking the computer mouse as she leaned across. The photos of the girl in the shallow grave flashed up. The girl in the white nightdress.

She hurried to her feet and checked the back door, it was locked. Then she ran back through the house and rattled the front door, which was locked, deadlocked and chained as well. She was safe. The alarm system hadn’t been set. She quickly set the alarm and slumped back onto the settee. After the last case, no one was ever coming into her house again and attempting to kill her.

The heatwave was killing her, messing with her senses. She pulled her T-shirt over her head and leaned back, wearing only her bra and light trousers. Using the T-shirt to fan herself, she slowly got a grip of the situation. Hannah wasn’t lying dead in a morgue and no one had broken into her house.

Her laptop screen told her it was two in the morning. Before she’d nodded off, she’d sat up, catching up with everyone’s notes and updating her own. She’d finished off the sour wine that was in the fridge and had eaten crisps and toast for supper.

Hannah. The dream. Her daughter lying dead on a slab in a state of decay. She grabbed her phone, needing to speak to her to know she was all right. As she went to press the call button, she stopped. It was the middle of the night. The whole family would be fast asleep. Someone had to make the first move or their little spat would go on forever, but now wasn’t the right time.

She wanted to cry and punch something, anything, or did she? She wanted someone to hug her, just a few minutes of security and closeness to another human being. She wished Gracie was with her. Gracie always hugged her back. She paused as she pressed another number. He always said he was there for her as a friend and she needed to talk, to hear a friendly voice, even though he had been annoying her by flaunting Annie in her face. Before she could change her mind, she selected Briggs’s number and called.

‘Briggs,’ he said in a muffled voice as if he’d just been half woken from a deep sleep.

‘It’s like the middle of the night,’ a woman said. Annie.

Gina hung up. She’d made a huge fool of herself. He’d wonder why she called and he’d wonder why she’d hung up. If it was work, she would have spoken. Her phone buzzed, she ignored it until voicemail picked up the call. She sent him a text.

He didn’t reply. She felt her sweaty face redden. Grabbing the wine glass, she poured the sour leftovers down the sink. Between the wine, the heat and her nightmare, she’d been turned into some anxiety-ridden mess. Get a grip, Gina!