Billy Hindle

Someone comes in and slides a new body onto a freezer tray.

I don't look up, don't pay them any mind.

I'm only going to do three bodies.

No more, no less.

I've already decided on which ones.

Mr. Goodkins, the mystery woman on the table right now, and either deceased number three or number four.

One of the less burned ones.

Or maybe deceased number eight.

So charred that it was more of a skeleton.

Surely that'd be easier than all the meat.

I realise I'm stalling.

Everyone thinks forensics is about fingerprints, but more often than not, it's about the teeth.

Morkris being a small town, there was only ever one dental practice.

Smiley Bud's Dental.

It made things simple enough for freak events of mass casualty.

Not that such a thing had ever happened here before.

Even if they had, only the charts of specific individuals would be pulled.

Those missing or obviously deceased.

But with the fire still burning its way through the surrounding forest and her body being found every hour... Well, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Over 30 years of smiles, all pooled and waiting in a dusty paper box for my examination.