that.”
Her face was stony, eyes hard and unblinking. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“There must be another explanation,” he said. “Leave the sock there and I’ll get the police on it.”
“Fine. I’ll continue my rounds.” She turned and strode away.
Dan mentally ran through the scenario. Patricia Lane was an excellent doctor with a stellar reputation. She must have been focused on her work and not heard the stairwell door open.
It was the most likely answer. But if she’d been standing at the desk checking charts not five feet from the stairwell door, how could she not have heard it open?
But what reason could Dr. Lane have for lying?
A sudden chill crept down his spine. Careful not to disturb the sock, he headed downstairs to find Angela.
* * *
Angela emerged into the hallway, and a nurse pointed out the direction Dan had taken to the stairs. Angela hurried to the stairwell door. One of them would surely intercept Lila. She intended to ask on each floor as she went if anyone had seen the girl.
She started the plunge down the steps. Her feet echoed oddly in the space. Her chest tightened up as the walls closed in around her in an ugly cement fist.
Keep going. Don’t let the thoughts catch up with you.
Racing down, she was about to exit on the fourth floor, but she heard a murmur of voices from farther down the stairwell. She continued onto the third floor and listened. No further noise. Her imagination?
Pressing on, she found a hospital gown tossed onto the cement. It was still warm to the touch. Lila had taken a few frantic moments to change clothes.
She’s getting out of here for sure. What had scared her so badly that she’d bolt without even taking the time to dress properly? Tension coiled in her gut now like a live serpent, and she continued racing down. Almost to the second floor, she was startled when she heard the door below her open.
“Lila,” she called out. “Wait. Don’t leave.” Now she was taking the steps two at a time, clutching the railing to keep from falling.
Six steps down, a man came into view, standing at the bottom landing, just in front of the exit door.
Harry Gruber.
He smiled.
Her breath caught, heart thundering.
She squashed the surge of panic. You’re not trapped. She could run up and escape through the second-floor door. Stay calm. You’re in control. Her nerves raced as if they had not gotten the message.
“Odd us meeting again,” Gruber said.
She swallowed. Take charge of the situation. “Yes, it is, Mr. Gruber.”
If he was surprised that he’d learned her name, he didn’t show it. “Especially here.” His lips curved in disgust as he gestured. “I hate hospitals, don’t you? Only come when I don’t have any other choice. All those desperate people, hoping to be cured and wondering how they’ll pay for all the pills and procedures. Patients paying for the green fees for the fat-cat doctors. That’s why I started up my clinic.”
He wore khakis and a short-sleeved shirt neatly buttoned, plaid against a pale yellow background. “What are you doing in the stairwell?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing.”
The air in the stairwell closed in, her palms went damp, breathing shallow, the familiar sense that her body was about to spin out of control. Don’t give in. She’d decided to go back up, outrun him to the next floor, when she saw a man step out onto the landing above her. Someone to help. She let out a gasping breath.
He looked over the railing at her, unsmiling, black eyes scanning.
“Sir...” she started, moving toward him. Something in the flat expression on his face made her pause. He was a blurred image of Harry, a relative, a brother. He rested his palms on the railing and stared at her.
Something cold slithered up her back. Cut off. No escape. She forced herself to keep breathing and speak calmly. “Is that a friend of yours?”
“My brother, Peter.”
She looked again at Peter, still as granite and just as cold.
Terror ricocheted inside her. Keep talking. Stall until Dan comes. Or another passerby. “Did you see a woman run by here?” she asked Harry.
“A woman?” He laughed. “Women run by me all the time and never even look back.” He pushed open the door and held it for her. “Were you going to exit? Allow me.”
The sunshine flooded through the door, enticing her with the promise of escape. She considered running back up to the second floor and trying to pass Peter, but the exit door was open wide, fresh air only a few feet away. Tantalizing. More than anything else, she desperately wanted to run toward freedom, away from Harry and his brother.
Keeping out of reach, she edged closer, ready to scream for help if Gruber made any move to detain her. He didn’t.
Had she imagined a threat where there wasn’t one?
Sweat dampened her brow. Paranoia? Were Harry Gruber and his brother just two innocent bystanders? Neither one had touched her or uttered so much as a single threat. Doubt flooded in.
As she passed, she noticed something that didn’t belong.
There, against the background of Harry’s neat yellow shirt, was an imprint left by two bloody fingers pressed against his chest.
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