SHE LAY on a metal table.
Her eyes were closed and she was missing a shoe.
Her skin was a black-purple, a shade Jimmy had never seen before.
He could smell her perfume, just a hint of it through the reek of formaldehyde that permeated this cold, cold room.
Sean put a hand against the small of Jimmy's back, and Jimmy spoke, barely feeling the words, certain that at this moment he was as dead as the body below him:
"Yeah, that's her," he said.
"That's Katie," he said.
"That's my daughter."