Earth as Hard as Iron by Verlaine
As Cowley strode up to the door, Bodie dropped back for a moment and Doyle stopped beside him. "Thanks for the rest," Bodie said. "You okay?"
"No," Doyle said shortly. "Think I left half my nerves on the motorway, and this place feels—" He stopped, unsure of whether he wanted to put it into words.
"Beautiful but wrong." At Doyle's startled glance, Bodie nodded. "Like the corpse all done up at the funeral."
"Let's hope that's not a premonition."
"C'mon, Ray, she's dead. Probably has been since yesterday afternoon."
"Not necessarily." Doyle felt compelled to argue, as if admitting the possibility was in some way a betrayal of the missing woman. "If somebody wants information—"
"Then for her sake, we better hope she's dead. You know what they'll use to get it out of her."
Doyle swore under his breath, knowing his partner was right, but hating the cold logic behind it. Bodie rested one hand lightly on the back of his neck, gently rubbing the tight muscles there, and Doyle felt the headache that had built during the drive begin to ease.
"Ta, mate," he said quietly, and risked a quick stroke to Bodie's back before they followed Cowley up and into the front hall.