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Lieutenant Miller was a middle-aged, harassed-looking man with a weather-beaten face,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], who seemed genuinely uncomfortable in his role. "Sorry I couldn't meet you at the airport," he told Tracy, "but the whole town's gone nuts. We went through your mother's things, and you're the only one we could find to call."
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"She committed suicide."
A cold chill went through her. "That's--- that's impossible! Why would she kill herself? She had everything to live for." Her voice was ragged.
"She left a note addressed to you."
The morgue was cold and indifferent and terrifying. Tracy was led down a long white corridor into a large, sterile,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], empty room, and suddenly she realized that the room was not empty. It was filled with the dead. Her dead.
A white-coated attendant strolled over to a wall, reached for a handle, and pulled out an oversized drawer. "Wanna take a look?"
No! I don't want to see the empty, lifeless body lying in that box. She wanted to get out of this place. She wanted to go back a few hours in time when the fire belt was ringing. Let it be a real fire alarm, not the telephone, not my mother dead. Tracy moved forward slowly, each step a screaming inside her. Then she was staring down at the lifeless remains of the body that had borne her, nourished her, laughed with her, loved her. She bent over and kissed her mother on the cheek. The cheek was cold and rubbery. "Oh, Mother," Tracy whispered. "Why? Why did you do it?"