However, she postponed the meeting for an hour because she had something more important to do. She drove to the hospital in Wilton to pay her respects to Detective Garda Goold and to give her condolences to her family. The mortuary was silent and dimly lit. Rain was starting to patter against the clerestory windows and the mortuary attendant’s shoes made a scrunching sound on the highly polished vinyl floor. After the attendant had folded back the pale green sheet that covered Nessa Goold’s body, Katie stood for a long time staring in sadness at her lumpy, ruined face. The surgeons had attempted to suture back the flaps of flesh around her mouth, but Katie could see that even if she had survived she would have had to suffer months, or years, of reconstructive surgery. She crossed herself and spoke the same words that her father had spoken over her mother’s open casket all those years ago, and over the casket of his second wife-to-be, Ailish, after she had died in a car crash less than six months ago.
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