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ran smack dab into another white-jacketed
     individual. She slapped a pair of really freaky-looking goggles in my hand as she passed.
    "It's about time. Emmy's waiting on you, and you know how she gets when she has to wait," the other person said. "We've got
     two up and two in the queue. I'm heading to lunch."
    I felt my breath hitch in my throat and managed to mumble something like "Gotcha, enjoy your lunch," then saluted her retreating
     back with the goggles.
    Emmy?
    Curious about who Emmy was and what she had four deep in the queue--hey, I warned you I was nosy--I headed down the hall toward
     a room with wide hospital doors with horizontal handles. I shoved the door inward, intending only to take a peek for curiosity's
     sake and then hightail it out of there, but I was hailed the second I poked my nose in the door.
    "Get over here and help me!" a woman across the room, presumably Emmy and clad in aqua scrubs covered by what looked like
     a paper apron, called out. "Where are your scrubs? Never mind. I need you to hold this open while I get a picture."
    The room was so bright I almost needed sunglasses to avoid squinting, and was expansive with windows that traveled its length.
     Long, deep stainless steel sinks ran along the middle of the room, perpendicular to off-white walls. Fluorescent light fixtures
     were in place over the sinks, and more heavy-duty lighting was installed at pivotal points in the ceiling.
    "Well? What are you waiting for?"
    The threads of a smell I'd gotten an unfortunate whiff of not so many months back made its way up my nostrils and I started
     to become uneasy. I took a hesitant step forward.
    "Some time today would be nice," the woman at the shiny stainless table said, and I blinked when I saw she was standing over
     what looked like a naked patient, bottoms up.
    I averted my eyes, and on legs that now seemed as sturdy as paper clips, I slowly made my way in her direction. My breathing
     was hurried and heavy. By the time I got to her, my goggles were all fogged up. Both inside and out.
    "Here," she said. "Hold these flaps back while I shoot a couple pictures."
    She motioned for me to take the place of her hands, and I squinted through my goggles so I could see where she was directing.
     And so totally wished I hadn't. J found myself staring down into the bloody red, wide-open skull of a human being, holding
     back flaps of scalp with stainless steel tongs similar to the ones I use to pick up the crab rangoon and vegetable lo-mein
     at the China buffet back home.
    "Hold it. Hold it. Right there!" Snap. The camera flashed. "And one more. That's it. Perfect!" Another flash. "Super! It's a wrap!"
    I looked down at what once upon a time was the epicenter of some poor soul's nervous system, and felt the makings of my recent
     meal burn the back of my throat, as it made its way up the down staircase.
    I dropped the tongs inside the gaping cranium, slapped a purple-gloved hand to my mouth, threw a salute to Emmy, and flew
     toward the door. The last thing I saw before I exited was a big sign on the wall that read SCRUBS, GOWNS, AND APPLICABLE ACCESSORIES
    REQUIRED IN AUTOPSY ROOM AT ALL TIMES.
    I bolted for the nearest exit. I ended up yanking off my hair net and releasing my stomach contents into it, my flight surely
     setting the standard for the shortest medical career on record.
    Dr. Ditz, I presume?

CHAPTER 3
    The trip home was somewhat subdued--mainly because I was still feeling weak and pukey from my short stint as Igor to "Emmy's"
     Dr. Frankenstein. My cousin was behind the wheel and I was trying to come to terms with the reality of walking into the Iowa
     State medical examiner's office, suiting up and marching smack dab into the middle of an autopsy. With two on deck and two in the queue, I reminded myself with a shiver.
    "So, Trevor Childers works at the morgue?" Frankie said. "Huh. Guess that explains why he isn't too talkative. It's not as
     if he has anyone to converse with at his