THE BODY
They brought the dead nun to the morgue just before midnight.
Dr. Marcus Bennett was sorting instruments when he heard his assistant’s voice from across the room.
“Doctor…”
Marcus didn’t look up.
“What is it?”
“Come here.”
There was something different in Daniel Carter’s voice.
Fear.
Marcus had known Daniel for three years.
The young medical examiner’s assistant was nervous around his first few bodies, but he had eventually learned to keep his emotions under control.
Tonight was different.
Marcus turned.
Daniel was standing beside the examination table.
He had taken two steps backward.
His eyes were fixed on the body lying beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.
Marcus walked toward him.
“What happened?”
Daniel swallowed.
“There’s something wrong with her.”
Marcus looked at the body.
It was a young Black woman dressed in a traditional black religious habit.
Her hands had been folded neatly across her stomach.
Her face was pale.
But strangely peaceful.
She looked less like someone who had died and more like someone who had fallen asleep after a long night of prayer.
“She was brought in from Saint Clare’s Convent,” Daniel explained.
Marcus nodded.
He had heard about the case.
Sister Mary had reportedly collapsed suddenly during evening prayers.
The convent doctor couldn’t determine the cause of death.
Because the death was unexpected, the authorities had ordered an autopsy.
Marcus pulled on his gloves.
“Let’s examine her.”
Daniel didn’t move.
“Doctor…”
Marcus looked at him.
“What?”
“There’s something on her back.”
Marcus frowned.
“What kind of something?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel pointed toward a small tear in the black habit.
“At first I thought it was a tattoo.”
Marcus sighed.
“Not every nun has spent her entire life in a convent.”
But even as he said it, something about the situation bothered him.
He walked closer.
The fabric had been torn near the woman’s shoulder blade.
Through the opening, he could see a small dark mark.
Marcus leaned forward.
Then stopped.
“Turn her over.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
Marcus looked at the dead woman’s peaceful face.
“But we’re going to find out.”
They carefully turned the body.
Marcus whispered a short prayer.
Then he reached for the scissors.
He cut through the back of the habit.
A few inches of fabric fell away.
Marcus froze.
Daniel’s mouth opened.
Neither man spoke.
Because it wasn’t a tattoo.
It was writing.
And the words appeared to have been written directly across the woman’s skin.
Marcus slowly read them.
DO NOT PERFORM THE AUTOPSY.
Daniel’s hands began to shake.
“Doctor…”
Marcus kept reading.
There were more words underneath.
WAIT TWO HOURS.
And below that:
WHAT YOU NEED IS IN MY HABIT.
Marcus stared at the message.
Then he looked at the dead nun.
For the first time in his career…
he was afraid of a corpse.
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