disorder. Several were apparently undergoing detoxification for drug addiction, since she scented some of the medicines often used to help.
One patient, Sgt. Norman Ivers, seemed almost angry about having the dog around, yelling at Tilly and looming over her until the poor dog lay down submissively. Grace determined to tell the nurses to keep him in his room next time Tilly and she visited.
Another, Sgt. Jim Kubowski, seemed utterly indifferent at first, but when Tilly sat in front of him and offered her paw, he shook it, then got down on the floor and hugged the dog.
One patient, PFC George Harper, seemed to really adore Tilly. Another, Pvt. Alice Johns, knelt on the floor and cried on Tilly, and Grace vowed to bring the dog back as often as possible to cheer her.
Soon, Tilly had run through her repertoire of tricks. Their visit was over. “We’ll be back soon,” Grace assured those patients who appeared to give a damn.
She enjoyed this part of her assignment, working with all kinds of patients with Tilly as a therapy dog.
Too bad the rest of her mission wasn’t as likely to give her this much enjoyment.
In the hallway outside the psychiatric unit, Grace considered what to do next. It was getting late, but there was still some daylight. She intended to explore parts of the hospital she hadn’t seen yet, but it remained too early for what she wanted to do.
Instead, she went outside onto the hospital grounds and called Kristine on her cell phone. Her aide said she was around the side of the hospital building with Bailey.
They met up at the sidewalk near the curved patient drop-off area. Grace asked softly, “Have you found anything out yet? Do you know where the entrance to that tunnel is?”
“Of course,” Kristine asserted. “That’s what I do—figure out what you’ll want to see and locate it.”
Grace laughed. “Does that mean you’ve figured out who we’re after so we can easily track down our suspect?”
The sergeant smiled. “Wouldn’t want to take away your fun, ma’am.” She gave a mock salute.
Their dogs leashed beside them, Kristine led Grace toward the emergency-room entrance at the side of the medical center’s largest wing, then around the corner to a delivery area. Fortunately, nothing was going on there. She used her security card to get all four of them back inside the facility.
The tunnel entrance was off a room filled with boxes of benign medical supplies like bandages—but not far from the door to a stairway that, Grace determined, most likely led down to the floor containing labs where fluids and other samples were tested. Made sense, she thought.
Making sure no one was around to see them, they entered the tunnel. Grace saw no particular security there, but not many people were likely to know about this passageway, except staff members who delivered the biohazards to their storage area beyond the main outdoor parking lot. Grace and Kristine and the dogs walked swiftly along the concrete corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing slightly in the confined area. It was illuminated by occasional recessed lights, and Grace’s nose wrinkled at the dry, musty scent of the surrounding emptiness.
Soon they reached the end. Kristine carefully opened the door and peered out. “We’re okay.” She held the door open, then led Grace and the dogs through a large, nearly empty parking lot toward its far end.
“There.” She pointed toward the concrete outbuilding Grace had seen briefly before—twice, including while shifted. She’d left it to Kristine to start gathering details about it.
The building was compact and nondescript, with a couple of doors visible. It could have been for storage of garden equipment, or electrical fuses and circuitry for the hospital—whatever. The fenced area around it contained yuccas and palm trees and other drought-tolerant plants that were politically correct for this dry climate. The only thing that indicated it was more than a boring, ordinary storage shed was the illuminated office at one end. In it sat a couple of uniformed soldiers.
“Have you talked to the guards?” Grace asked Kristine.
“Yep, at least the ones on duty earlier. They try to keep their presence low-key, like they’re just guarding the parking lot and not what’s behind that door.”
“But some biohazards were stolen while guys were on watch?”
“Seems that way.”
“Interesting. I’ll need to find out the excuses given by whomever was on duty during the times samples were taken from here.”
“Count me in,” Kristine said. “Sounds like fun. The building’s not as bland as it looks,