Blood Debt

You'll find a door marked electrical room. Behind it is a short corridor. Off that corridor is a hospital room …"
    "I think we can start at the back door, Doctor."
    "Fine. Nurse…"
    Hope rose in the breasts of both constables that Nurse Damone would be going with them while the doctor watched her station.
    "… I won't be long."
    Hope crashed and burned.
    "There's no alarm on this door?"
    "As I mentioned before, Constable Potter, we have a dozen very sick people in this building. Should anyone need to exit the building, an unnecessary alarm could easily cause enough excitement to kill one or two of them."
    "They're that sick?"
    "They come here when their only options remaining are death or transplant—yes, they're that sick."
    PC Kessin frowned at the heavy steel door. "But suppose someone came in from outside the building?"
    "This door doesn't open from the outside."
    "There are always people who can get a door open, Doctor."
    Dr. Mui smiled tightly. "And what good would an alarm do against those kind of people?"
    "Do you always keep the door to the electrical room locked?"
    "Two points, Constable." Dr. Mui pulled out her keys and slid one into the lock. "First of all, this is not the door to the electrical room. It leads to a short access hall. Secondly, no, we don't always keep it locked."
    "Then why is it locked now?"
    "I don't know."
    "The room you're searching for looks like any other hospital room except that the walls are painted cinder blocks and there's a high, inaccessible window. There'll be a man on the bed …"
    PC Potter stopped just over the threshold and had to be pushed gently ahead by her partner. For some strange reason, she felt as though she were stepping up out of a deep, dark well. It must have been the lights—the room was all hard, high-gloss surfaces with nothing to soften the intensity.

    Blinking and grumbling in the sudden glare, the large man on the bed sat up and rubbed at his eyes.
    "A hidden room, a man who is obviously not a patient; do you have an explanation for this, Dr. Mui?"
    "This room was originally supposed to be the laundry, but we found it much more cost effective to send the laundry out. Since the plumbing was already installed, it took little effort to turn it into a temporary residence room. As for the man on the bed…" Her tone changed from weary lecture to distinct pique. "… his name is Richard Sullivan, he's one of our orderlies, and he is not supposed to be in here—which explains why that last door was locked."
    "Orderly," Kessin repeated. "That explains the uniform." He took half a step back as the doctor shot him another less than complimentary look.
    Sullivan, standing now, stared down at the mattress and muttered an inaudible protest.
    "Again, Richard. Louder."
    "The cot's uncomfortable."
    "Are you the orderly the nurse told us was asleep in the staff room?
    " Potter asked, wondering why it felt as though she'd changed channels in mid-program.
    "Obviously not. He's the orderly who was supposed to be asleep in the staff room." Dr. Mui indicated the door with a sharp jerk of her head. "Go to my office, Richard. I'll speak with you later."
    "Just a minute, Mr. Sullivan." As he turned toward her, Potter saw that he had the longest eyelashes she'd ever seen on a man—long and thick and fringing deep brown eyes so mild they completely mitigated any threat his size might suggest. Her cheeks warmed as she realized he was waiting patiently for her to speak.
    "… ask him how he came to be in that room."
    Except they already knew that.
    "Do you, uh, own a red T-shirt?"
    He nodded.
    "Did you wear it to work today?"
    He nodded again. "I never wear my uniform to work, it gets sweaty.
    I bring a clean uniform in a bag."
    "A bag."
    Huge hands sketched a rectangle in the air. "Like a garment bag."
    "A garment bag." Potter looked at her partner and saw he was leaping to the same conclusion. From the highway it was entirely possible that a man in a red T-shirt carrying a garment bag could look like a man in a red T-shirt carrying a body. Especially when there was no body.
    "Once you've found the room, and the man, and found out what he's doing there, I have every faith in your ability to deal with the situation."
    She frowned. What situation?
    "Hope we didn't get that guy in too much trouble." PC Kessin turned back onto Mt. Seymour Road heading toward North Vancouver. "That doctor wasn't someone I'd want to cross. Man, I hate that 'I'm the next best thing to God