CHAPTER SEVEN
Morgan stared up at the glass and concrete building before him. He’d never been to the District of Columbia’s Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, or OCME as people referred to it. There’d never been a need. If he needed an autopsy report, he didn’t tramp downtown to physically pick it up. He requested it through regular channels.
No way was he waiting for that now. There’d been a time that OCME had been infamous for its backlog of cases, bodies stacked up and waiting for months before an autopsy could be performed. That was no longer true, but it still could be as much as a 90-day wait for results.
Yesterday’s rain had washed away the fog. The sun was almost painfully bright to Morgan’s tired eyes as he walked into the lobby and looked around. He knew he looked like hell
