Knock.
The two raised their heads.
The sound had come from the cold room.
Camilo backed away.
—Doctor…
Knock.
This time it was stronger.
Fonseca looked at the metal doors.
—There’s someone there.
—That’s impossible.
—Open.
—That?
—Camera.
Camilo slowly denied.
—Doctor, the bodies are registered.
—I said open it.
With trembling hands, Camilo inserted the key.
The door opened with a screech.
The icy air shot out.
Inside were three bodies.
All three were covered with sheets.
Fonseca reviewed the labels.
One was a sixty-year-old man.
Another, a woman.
Fonseca picked up the receiver.
—Central Morgue.
On the other side no one spoke.
Only slow breathing could be heard.
—Who speaks?
