Chapter 9: The Locker

Mitchell was on call that night, so he did not come home.

Camilla left for her shift at six, and at eleven I told the empty house I couldn't sleep and went out to my car.

Daniel picked me up two blocks from Metro General in his Honda.

"Sub-level two," he said. "The anesthesia lounge. My card opens the door and the code opens the locker."

"And if she's already there?"

"She said tonight, and the residents take their break at midnight. We go now, before it."

The service elevator was empty and smelled of bleach.

On sub-level two the hall was long and dim, with a humming ice machine at one end.

He swiped his badge and the lounge door clicked open.

There were twelve lockers along one wall, gray steel, with names on masking tape.

He crouched at the third one and punched in a code.

The door swung open.

Inside there was a spare pair of scrubs, a pair of clogs and a half-eaten granola bar.

There was nothing else.

"No," Daniel said.

He put his hand all the way to the back.

He took out a yellow sticky note and stared at it.

I read it over his shoulder.

The handwriting was square and neat, each letter standing straight.

Danny, you left this out. Don't be careless. E.

I knew that handwriting.

I had found it on the kitchen counter every morning for six years.