Page 63 of Bitter Lies

“Stay here. Make sure no one gets past you who doesn’t belong. If there’s trouble inside, it’s better to have the vehicle ready to go.”

“Not happening.” Ryan slams the door once I’m out. “She’s our charge, not yours. When out in public, we are to keep eyes on her at all times.”

Aiden bumps his chest. “Is that so? Then explain how⁠—”

Stepping in front of the two men, Sasha places a hand on each of their chests. “Stand down. Here’s the plan.”

She pats Ryan’s chest, reminding him she’s his boss. “You stay here. I’ll go with them. One of us needs to monitor the door. If you go with him, I’m pretty sure the morgue will get at least one more to process, if not two. That’s an order.”

Ryan glares at Aiden, his feet rooted in place as the three of us walk down the sidewalk toward the entrance.

“I don’t like him.” Aiden opens the door and holds it for us. “I want him gone.”

Sasha snaps her fingers and winks as she passes him. “Noted. He’s not a fan of you, either, in case you were wondering. But he’s good at his job, so for now he stays.”

Once inside, Aiden takes my hand and leads me to the window where a man sits. As we approach, he glances up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

“We’re here to identify a body.” Aiden takes charge, and I’m thankful since my mouth turns sour at the thought. “They should be expecting us. Isabel Reyes.”

He glances down at his sheet and frowns. “I’m not seeing that name.”

“Dr. Isabel Lopez,” I say, knowing when I called, I used my professional name.

“Yes. Right here. I need ID. The doctor on duty will then escort you back.” He pushes a clipboard through the window. “Everyone going back needs to sign in.”

We present IDs. Once he scans them, he picks up his phone to make a call. The air is cold and the smell wrong. My breakfast churns, threatening to come back up, making me wish the person in charge would move this along.

Right as I’m about to lose my composure, the door to the back opens and an older man in a white coat and blue scrubs appears. “Dr. Lopez, if you’ll follow me.”

I nod, but my feet don’t move until Aiden gently presses a hand to my back. No one talks. The sound of our shoes clicking down the dark hallway echoes off the walls. It’s an eerie atmosphere, but nothing I’ve not dealt with before.

One of my rotations in medical school was in the morgue. All training doctors are required to do at least one rotation in the dark dungeon. It was my least favorite and one I knew I wouldn’t pick when the time came.

Death has a smell. One I can’t really explain.

The smell intensifies, dragging me back to vivid memories of the formaldehyde-soaked labs from medical school. The pungent scent clung to everything. It took me months to get that scent off me. No matter how much lavender and mint I shoved under my nose, it lingered. It’s why I love my sweet-scented body products now. If I don’t use them to this day, I can still catch a whiff, as if embedded deep in my pores.

He stops outside a room with windows and asks us to wait. Once inside, he approaches the body covered with a sheet and pulls it back.

I close my eyes, unable to look. I know as soon as I do, it’ll all become real, and I’m not ready.

“Take your time.” Aiden’s strong arm encircles my shoulder in a comforting gesture. “When you’re ready. We’ll stay here for as long as it takes. No one will rush you.”

I nod and slowly open my eyes. Tears burn as I choke them back, my lungs fighting for air, the struggle mirroring the hollow ache in my chest as I look at my grandfather’s tranquil face for the last time. He’s so pale. His skin a grayish blue. I can’t look away. My eyes trace his face, pausing on the gauze wrapped around his head. A harsh reminder of what’s hidden beneath.

“That’s him.” I choke out. “That’s my grandfather, Rico Lopez.”

Aiden taps the window. “Did you get that?”

The doctor nods and pulls the sheet back over the body.

Aiden tucks me under his arm and rushes us out of there. When my legs give out, he scoops me into his arms and carries me. Clenching his shirt tightly, I bury my face in the fabric, breathing in his scent, hoping for some peace.

“Open the fucking door.” Aiden grumbles as we move faster up the sidewalk.

The passenger door clicks open, and we’re back inside the vehicle. I’m still in his arms when the tires roll, cradled against his warm chest when the sobs hit.

“What the fuck happened?” Ryan grunts. “She should be buckled up.”