They called her names. Doctor Death, God's Assistant and Queen of the Dead were some of Rachel's favourites.

As she watched Scary Mary Jackson perform the post mortem, Rachel wondered if she knew all the cops called her those things.

"What have we got?" Gill asked as she entered the viewing room.

"White female, roughly in her mid-twenties, found behind the Bridgewater Tower. Name's Rebecca Tyler. No DNA match on our database, no convictions, no missing person report filed under her name," Rachel replied.

"So she's a mystery to us."

"Until someone reports her missing, yes," Rachel replied.

They watched from behind the glass as Mary made her surface exam, making notes on the diagram on the page. The victim's fingernails were clean and there was no bruising on the body, suggesting that the victim didn't react to the attack. It looked like she didn't know she was being watched and someone was planning to attack until the moment the bullet hit. She seemed perfectly healthy apart from the gaping hole in her forehead.

Mary moved round to the tray of instruments and started to make her Y incision.

"Eugh, never let me have a post mortem, Rachel. If they find me dead anywhere, just let me be buried. I couldn't stand it knowing I was going to be on that table," Gill said to Rachel.

"Why? What's wrong with it?" Rachel asked.

"The way she cuts you, it's like she's skinning a rabbit. No respect for the dead."

"There's no other way to do it," Rachel replied. "And I think you'll find that she has lots of respect for the dead."

"Oooh, why are you all defensive today, rushing to defend Mary? She got the time of death wrong on your case last week and buggered the whole thing up. You don't usually forgive and forget this easily."

"Yeah, well, I dunno." Rachel shrugged her shoulders.

Their attention moved back to Mary who was now cutting open the chest. Each snap of the ribs breaking made Gill wince. It never got easier, no matter how many post mortems you attended. Mary removed the breastplate to reveal a young, health heart and lungs.

"Why is she even bothering to do this?" Rachel asked. "We all know how she died - she's got a bloody big hole in her head!"

"I don't know, something about being thorough." Gill shrugged.

Scary Mary cut out the lungs and placed them on some weighing scales.

"Nice, healthy lungs. Nothing wrong with them on the outside," she noted.

She carried the lungs over to the chopping board where she sliced into them to reveal the lung parenchyma; the alveolar tissue and bronchioles.

"No oedema," Mary told Gill.

"In English?" Gill asked.

"No collection of fluid. She didn't smoke."

"Oh, well that tells us a lot," Gill remarked, deflated by the fact that she thought Mary had found something interesting.

"It means we can rule out twenty percent of the population when we try to figure out where she comes from and who her family are," Rachel helped.

"Thank you, Sherlock," Gill replied sarcastically.

"Jeez, calm down, Gill," Rachel told her.

Gill rolled her eyes.

Mary cut out the heart next. She turned it over to look at the coronary vessels. All seemed fine. She sliced it open.

"Valves seem fine. Clean vessels. This is a very healthy young woman."

"Apart from the hole in her head," Rachel added.

Both women looked at Rachel in a headmistress sort of way and Rachel soon fell silent.

After Mary had done a little more work on the body, she asked if the two detectives wanted to go in and inspect the entrance wound for their records. They stepped into the autopsy room and the smell of death hit both Rachel and Gill at the same time. The smell made Rachel feel sick, as though she was experiencing a post mortem for the very first time. As they got closer, the smell of blood made Rachel even more nauseous.

Gill lifted her mask to her face and peered at the entrance wound.

"Has she been hit by what I think she's been hit with?" she asked.

"A gun?" Rachel asked a little dimly.

"No, the bullet. It's a Black Talon," Gill replied.

"Yes, it is. This bullet is banned in the UK, I've only seen two cases like this in my whole career," Mary confirmed.

"And we all know that's a heck of a long time," Gill remarked.

"Oi, shut it, you!"

"Erm, Boss, what's a Black Talon?" Rachel asked.

"It is, in my opinion, the worst and most dangerous bullet ever invented," Gill replied.

"The Black Talon handgun bullet is a jacketed hollow-point bullet with perforations designed to expose sharp edges upon expansion," Mary explained.

"A what?"

"Basically, once it's inside you, it expands and reveals sharp, pointed edges. Does an awful lot of damage," Gill explained in simpler language.

"Oh."

"I take it we can put down that the cause of death was a single gunshot to the head?" Gill asked Mary.

"No," Mary replied. "The lack of blood suggests that the victim was shot port mortem."

"After she died?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, that's what post mortem means," Gill replied sarcastically.

Rachel, who was standing behind Gill, flicked a V-sign in Gill's direction.

"So what killed her?" Gill asked.

"I can't confirm anything yet, I have to do more tests. Full lung exam, tox screens etcetera."

"Fine, just do what you have to do." Gill walked out of the autopsy room.

"I've always wondered why you wanted to become a pathologist, Mary," Rachel said to her.

"You want the truth? I was bullied at school. Teased something rotten. And it seemed like none of the living had time for me. But as for the dead, they don't judge me. The don't tease me. And I can help them."

"Really?" Rachel asked.

"Yes and if you tell anyone, I'll kill you," Mary replied.

"Come on, Sherlock, we've got work to do!" Gill shouted.

Rachel traipsed out after her boss.

xXxXx

Back in her office, Gill decided to ring Julie for advice.

"Hiya Slap," Julie answered.

"Hiya. Look, I need some advice," Gill told her.

"Sounds ominous. What's up?" Julie asked.

"I've got a young woman, Rebecca Tyler, gunshot wound to the head. She's got no previous convictions, her DNA doesn't match with anyone we have on the system. I was just wondering if you knew anything. What to do, where to start. I can't believe it but I've never had a victim where they can be named but no family is on record and no missing person report has been filed."

The line was silent.

"Hello? Julie, are you still there?" Gill asked.

"Did you say her name was Tyler?" Julie asked.

"Yeah," Gill replied, questioning in her voice.

"Rebecca Tyler?"

"Yes, why?"

"I know who she is and why she has no family," Julie told Gill.

"Why? Who is she?" Gill asked.

The line was silent once again.

"Julie?!" Gill was growing impatient.

"She's… She's my daughter."