"Ask yourself if the symbol you have detected is not your own footprint." — Vladimir Nabokov
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"That is one nasty death," Victoria muttered as soon as the morgue attendant pulled down the white cloth they had used to cover Emma's body.
Thomas gagged by her side which made her roll her eyes. Had this guy even gone to the police academy? Even without that, he was a man. Couldn't he stomach that scene? At the least, try to be brave enough.
"Time of death was 8:05 and from the look of things, there's no suspicion of foul play; no struggle nor fingerprint. It was suicide," explained the woman.
"Alright, thank you," Victoria penned it down on her little notebook which she put in the pocket in her jacket and snapped her fingers at the still recovering partner, " Let's go,"
