TWENTY-TWO
McCall entered the ME’s building and headed for Tina’s office – or the cutting room as she called it. McCall stood in front of the entrance and opened the double doors to Tina’s office.
Tina sat at her computer, typing up some notes from one of the cases. Tina looked up over the monitor, and a pleasant smile crept over her pretty, dark-skinned face.
“Good morning,” McCall announced, lifting the logoed coffee cup. Tina lifted a finger to signal she was busy typing and talking would put her off her stroke. McCall mouthed an apology and slipped into the cutting room. McCall wandered aimlessly around the brightly lit room while she waited for Tina to complete her work. The sound of keys of the keyboard rattled away in from the small office space. McCall placed down both coffees a
