Free No Known Grave by Maureen Jennings

pink, but otherwise it was the same as the first.
    “Daisy Stevens is in here. She was a WREN . Still is, I suppose. She was injured by flying glass when an unexploded bomb went off near the restaurant where she was having lunch. Shehas lost most of her scalp and has no vision in her right eye. She was one of the group who were studying massage.”
    Tyler put Daisy in the ABLE column.
    “Finally, we have Miss Barbara Oakshutt, who was a WAAF . She was injured during an attack on the airfield where she was stationed. Her fiancé, a mechanic, was killed in the same attack. She is blind.”
    NOT ABLE .
    Tyler put away his notebook. “Thank you, Sister. I must say these are horrific tales.”
    “They are indeed. However, we do our level best to impart hope to these unfortunates. With the right attitude, there is a lot they can do. And mostly they are young people with all the resilience of youth.”
    The words could have sounded ridiculously optimistic, but Tyler already knew Sister Rebecca was not one to trivialize the terrible challenges her patients faced. She believed what she said and would stand by it.
    “Perhaps I could take a closer look at their individual files sometime later.”
    “Of course. And my office is completely at your disposal.”
    “Right! The breakfast room.”
    “Exactly … Your constable seems very competent, by the way. I’m glad to see more openings for young women in the police force.”
    “I am too,” said Tyler. “Although to be honest, I’m still sorting out how to respond to the changes.”
    She smiled. “As is the rest of the world, Inspector.”
    He plunged on. “I must say how much I admire the care you provide for your patients.”
    Her eyes met his in surprise. “I don’t know how one could be other than caring. But as you know, St. Anne’s is a drop in the bucket given the number of wounded men and women whoneed help … Madness has been unleashed upon the world. Here we are doing our best to help the victims of that insanity. Ultimately, I know it will not prevail.”
    He halted. “In my better moments, I agree with you, Sister. And at other times, I’m not so sure.”
    He half expected she would offer him some piety, some affirmation that God was looking after the righteous, but she didn’t.
    They went back down to the second floor.
    Tyler indicated the lift. “Do you mind if we go that way to the ground floor?” he asked. “I’d like to check it.”
    She was right about the lift being tiny. It would barely fit a wheelchair, let alone two people. She and Tyler were forced into close proximity, shoulder to shoulder. She stood with her hands clasped, looking straight ahead. She was almost the same height as he was and she smelled faintly of antiseptic. Tyler’s thoughts jumped to Clare, who loved expensive scent. What brand was it she liked so much? Something French, as he remembered. One bottle cost more than he made in a month. Sort of flowery …
    The lift halted with a jolt and they exited into the empty kitchen. Sister Rebecca led the way into yet another passageway. She selected a key from the ring at her waist and unlocked the side door.
    A trellis thick with climbing roses ran to a wooden gate in the wall, about a dozen feet away. It was identical to the one he’d entered through when he first arrived. The trellis ensured privacy, screening any comings and goings from the house itself.
    “As you can see,” said the almoner, “there are three bars on the gate – a holdover from the previous owners. They’re probably rusted shut by now. I don’t think we’ve used it since we arrived. It was a tradesmen’s entrance.”
    “What’s on the other side?”
    “A public right of way. You can get to it by way of the road. It leads to the river.”
    Tyler walked to the gate, which was indeed barred with solid iron bolts. He tested the first one. It squeaked loudly but moved easily. Certainly not rusted. Neither were the other two. He pushed the gate open