The Body Thief by Chris Taylor

steering
wheel.
    “Absolutely! You’re right, it sounds very
weird. I pride myself on being good at my job and I can’t remember
the last time I convinced a relative to give consent for all of
those things. I wish I was that persuasive. For sure we need those
kinds of tissues as much as any of them, but it’s rare for people
to agree. I wonder who the doctor was who managed to secure the
consent?”
    Sam’s breath rushed out of her body in
relief. Her brother sounded just as bemused with the whole thing as
she was. If he’d had any prior knowledge or, heaven forbid,
intimate knowledge, surely he’d be on the defensive?
    “I don’t know any details, other than the
body came from your hospital,” she hastened to tell him. “Hannah
only receives the most basic information about her clients.”
    “Of course. Do you have a name? I could look
them up in our records and see who dealt with them.”
    “No, but Hannah does. I could call her and
ask.”
    “Don’t bother her tonight. Besides, I’ve
already called it a day. I’m at home, kicking back with a scotch,
watching the rugby game I taped earlier.”
    “Lucky you,” she teased. “I have another
three miles to go.”
    “Well, I’ll leave you to concentrate on the
road. I don’t want you arriving home in pieces. Or worse still, not
arriving at all.” His tone was light, but Sam appreciated the
concern behind his words. She was lucky to have a big brother like
him watching out for her. Not everyone was so fortunate. With a
promise to take care and talk again soon, Sam ended the call.
    There, she’d done it and Alistair had
reacted exactly as she’d expect. Curious, concerned, wanting to
investigate further and get to the bottom of it. There was no way
he was involved. She was sure of it.

CHAPTER
SEVEN
     
    Dear Diary,
     
    I woke up last night from a nightmare. I was
trapped in a bottomless pool of blood. It was all over me—sticky,
warm and wet. I wiped myself clean over and over, but by the time
I’d finished I was covered in blood again.
    It hung from my hair, it dripped in my eyes;
it filled my mouth and ears. I was drowning in blood. At any
moment, I could disappear, swallowed up by the metallic tasting
fluid, never to be seen again…
    * * *
    “All done, Doctor Wolfe?”
    Alistair was focused on the patient who lay
on the operating table. The only thing keeping the woman alive was
the respirator that sent artificial, measured breaths into her
lungs. Soon, even that would be gone. Registering the nurse’s
question, he looked up and nodded. “Just about, thank you, nurse.
Feel free to leave. It’s way past late. I’ll finish up here.”
    “Are you sure?” the nurse asked, unable to
keep the hopeful note out of her voice.
    “Yes, of course. The excitement’s over. All
I have to do is suture her up and unplug the machine. Then I’m
done. I don’t need you for that. I’ll talk to the family and make
sure she’s sent to the morgue afterwards.”
    The nurse nodded and smiled gratefully.
She’d been on her feet for hours. Alistair was sure she wouldn’t
argue with him about leaving the operating theater a little sooner
than the end of her shift. He was counting on it.
    “Thank you, Doctor Wolfe. I’m rostered on
again first thing in the morning, so I really appreciate being able
to get away a little early. I’ll barely have time to put my head
down on the pillow before I have to be on shift again.”
    Alistair tossed her a sympathetic smile.
“Yes, those back-to-back shifts are a bitch. I hope you don’t live
too far away?”
    “No, about twenty minutes from the hospital.
Long enough, though, when I’m following a late shift with an
early.”
    “Go, and don’t think anything more of it.
I’ll see you in the morning.”
    She flashed him another grateful smile and
then turned and headed toward the exit. Alistair waited a few
minutes, to make sure she’d left the suite. When he heard the outer
door open and close, he returned his