Free Lifeblood by Penny Rudolph

floor.”
    “That is the second floor. The lobby is the third floor.” Catching Rachel’s look, she added, “I know it’s confusing.”
    “Thanks.” Rachel turned back toward the elevators.
    “No, no. Not that way,” the nurse called behind her.
    “But that’s the way I came.”
    “That’s a restricted area. There’s an elevator down there.” She pointed to the opposite hall, where glossy white woodwork and floor tile ran between bright blue walls.
    Rachel shrugged and moved obediently down the hall of the pointing finger. Were all hospitals this hard to navigate? Still preferring to walk, she found another staircase next to another bank of elevators. If this was one floor above the lobby, the one she wanted should be two floors below. She started down.
    The banister was metal painted GI khaki and cold. Even Rachel’s light footsteps echoed. Must be some sort of psychological test, she was thinking, to see if patients can get around the building without losing themselves or their tempers. As for her, she was failing on both counts.
    Above her, the door she had come through opened and footsteps came down the steps toward her. She looked up, but could see only the underside of the stairs, not whoever was on them.
    “The lab is another two flights down?” she called.
    No answer. The footsteps had stopped too.
    Chapter Thirteen
    An unexpected chill rippled down Rachel’s spine. Don’t be silly. Probably just someone who forgot something and stopped to think. Just the same, she ran down the steps, not pausing until she reached the door that should lead to what they called the second floor.
    Inside were dazzling blue walls and a sign that read clinical laboratory. Clever place for the first sign, she thought.
    A white-jacketed tech behind the counter relieved her of the box. “How do I get out of here?” she asked.
    He tilted his head toward yet another hall. “Easiest way is through the emergency waiting room.”
    It was getting late. This time she took the elevator and ran all the way back to the garage, plagued by two equally unwanted thoughts.
    Why are there people, presumably patients, in a wing of the hospital marked closed? Nothing to do with you and none of your business.
    What on earth is so attractive about that pharmacist? Compared to Hank, he’s a one-eyed dwarf with warts.
    So when Rachel found herself in front of the Pig ’n Whistle at ten after seven, it was because she had persuaded herself that the first question about the odd hospital wing might be answered by the pharmacist. Or at least that’s what she told herself.
    The bar was dimly lit and filled as always at that time of night with the shadows and chatter of people who for whatever reason would rather be there than at home.
    She pushed through the crowd looking for Gordon Cox, who she thought would be hard to miss. A perfectly groomed, dapper fellow should stick out among these loosened collars and awry ties. Besides, she didn’t really want to look for the pharmacist. What was his name? Gabe.
    A hand tapped her shoulder. She spun around to look into the beaming face of Gordon Cox. “Over here. We have a booth,” he said, and a surprisingly firm hand grasped her elbow and led her past the people perched on bar stools.
    “Thanks.” She scooted onto a padded black plastic bench.
    “No, that’s my place.” Gordon motioned her to the place beside Gabe, who was furiously chomping a toothpick. He removed it only to take a swallow of the beer from the mug in front of him.
    “What do you want?” Gordon asked Rachel. “I’ll get it from the bar. We’re not likely to see a waitress.”
    “Club soda,” Rachel said, “with lots of ice, some lemon and a straw.”
    “I told you,” Gabe said to Gordon. “This is a woman who knows exactly what she wants.”
    If only. Rachel watched Gordon disappear into the mass of shoulders. She thought the only thing missing from the neat figure was that he should be wearing a derby. The guy