“That bad, huh?” He pulled into a space near the front.
“That bad.” They both got out and walked quickly to the front entrance. A security guard manned a metal detector, but when they flashed their badges, he waved them through, buzzing open the second set of double doors just beyond.
The unmistakable smell of a hospital greeted them: disinfectant, pharmaceuticals, the underlying scent of . . . sickness, whatever that could be broken down into. It all conjured up an aura of human misery. Lakeside was where you were sent when your own mind betrayed you.
A few staff members moved through the lobby on their way to other parts of the hospital. They glanced at Reed and Ransom nervously, their gazes flitting away. A high, half-circle reception desk stood directly in front of them and they approached it, flashing their badges again. The woman at the front looked up, blinking. She offered no smile.
“Detectives Reed Davies and Ransom Carlyle. We—”
“Third floor,” the woman said, pointing behind her at a bank of elevators at the end of a short, empty hall. Another security guard sat in a chair, looking down at some form of reading material in his lap. The woman picked up her phone as they nodded and walked away, and when they got to the guard, he used a card to allow them entrance into one of the elevators. The doors closed and the elevator began rising. Music piped into the small space, tinny, and soft.
“This song is creepy as fuck,” Ransom said.
“‘Theme from A Summer Place’,” Reed noted. “A classic elevator tune.”
“Spend a lot of time in elevators, do you?”
“Dentists offices, grocery stores. You can’t live life without knowing this song.”
“Trust me, you can.” Ransom rolled his eyes, frowning. “You know what? I’ve been here before and this place just makes me feel . . . weird.”
“It’s a liminal space,” Reed said.
“What the hell is that?”
Reed watched the floor numbers change as the car rose. “It’s a space that makes you feel off, sort of like you’re in an alternate reality. Empty airports at night, school buildings after hours—”
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
A short woman with dark red hair streaked with white stepped up to them immediately, holding out her hand. “Detectives. I’m glad you’re here. I’m Marla Thorne, Lakeside Administrator.” She seemed slightly breathless as though she’d just run to meet their elevator. More likely a symptom of adrenalin. She looked to be in a slight state of shock. They shook her hand and followed her to a small reception area where a woman in scrubs sat behind a window. “This is awful, just awful. Unbelievable. His body’s back that way.” She pointed to a set of double doors, her hand trembling. “I know you need to look at the crime scene. I just wanted to let you know that we have our guards and the CPD officers who arrived first manning all the exits. A search of the hospital was started immediately after Mr. Sadowski was found, and is still ongoing, but so far, everything seems to be in order on all the floors.” She laced her fingers together as though unsure what to do with her hands.
“Mr. Sadowski, you said? What was his role here?”
“He’s—was—the director.” The bright spots on her cheeks deepened when she corrected herself to past tense. “I have no idea who would do this. No idea.”
“Okay. Thank you, Ms. Thorne. We’ll take a look. Please have someone update us with any new information. We’ll need to ask you a few questions later too.”
“Yes, of course. Just have any of the receptionists ring my extension or page me if need be.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Ms. Thorne nodded to the receptionist behind the glass and a buzz sounded as the set of double doors swung open. Reed and Ransom entered another hallway. The hospital scent intensified, overhead fluorescent lights buzzed. Ransom paused to squirt a dollop of clear antibacterial gel onto his hands from a dispenser hanging on the wall, lathering it slowly. “Here’s another one, the electrical section near the back of a Ma and Pop hardware store.” He shivered dramatically.
Reed offered him a wry tilt of his lips. “Definitely.”
A cop Reed recognized as a newer guy from District Five, the district where Zach worked, came around the corner, tilting his chin. He looked decidedly pale and possibly ill, but relieved by the sight of them. “That way,” he said, gesturing backward where Reed could hear a hum of voices. “It’s . .