The Stolen Heart: A Regal Whodunnit

Chapter 2

I waited to zip up the bag until she lowered her hand. She looked at me with an appreciative half smile, then turned and retook her post in the chair. I grabbed the gurney and pushed it out the door and down the corridor, the queen's cries getting louder and louder as I left the room.

Outside, I was met with lightning strikes of camera flashes. I squinted for a moment before I felt the hand of a security guard tug on the end of the cart. He guided me through the flock of vulturous press. My head spun as they all tried to ask their questions at the same time, their choir of voices reaching a decibel level I hadn't thought was humanly possible until then. The guard whipped open the van doors and gurney fit snugly into the back with a thunk as the wheels hit the end of the track. I sat in the driver's seat for a moment before starting up the van. I looked at the gurney through the rearview mirror and shuddered at the thought of having Prince Andrew, so young, just 24, and so present in this country, in a body bag in the back of my van. I wiped away a tear that escaped from my eye as I slid the key into the ignition. The van started with a roar. I quickly pulled out of the lot, honking the horn, so as not to hit any journalists in my way, and headed back to the hospital.
When I pulled into the parking lot, my coworker, Tom, was waiting for me. He escorted me and the gurney through the hospital and into the morgue.
'Faith, you've got from here?' he asked.
'Yep,' I replied, 'Just need to roll him in the cooler for the night, and I'll be headed out.'
'Okay, g'night.' 'Night.'

I rolled the gurney into the large cooler and locked the door.