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Lieutenant Miller was a middle-aged, harassed-looking man with a weather-beaten face, who seemed genuinely uncomfortable in his role. "Sorry I couldn't meet you at the airport,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," 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."
"Please, Lieutenant,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], tell me what--- what happened to my mother."
"She committed suicide."
A cold chill went through her. "That's--- that's impossible,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! 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,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and pulled out an oversized drawer. "Wanna take a look?"
No,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! 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,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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?"

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