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By the look on his face, I’d poked him in a spot he didn’t like being touched. He didn’t want a kid telling him how to do his job—I got it. Just like I didn’t want an adult telling me what I did or didn’t see.

“You didn’t get the plate number. There’re certain criteria to getting an Amber—”

“What are you going to do then? I have to be able to tell my grandmother something when she wakes up!”

Some humanity returned to Audrain’s eyes at the mention of Gran in the hospital. He sighed. “Officers are out in the neighborhood with her picture—the one here on the ID.” He tapped it through the evidence bag.

“But that’s blurry. You can barely see—”

“We need some better photos of her. Can you get those to us? The sooner, the better.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He’d had it with me.

“What about the news?”

“Kid,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Go home, get the pictures. We’ll work from there.”

Poley saw me out.

Chapter11Present

A Seven-Foot Corpsestumbles naked toward me, sunken eyes staring wildly around. His bald head is spotted and gray, pink mouth gaping like a worm. I watch his skinny legs buckle as he tries to keep himself upright. There are people around—Crede, nurses, the patients watching TV—but it’s me those dead eyes find and focus on.Focusis the wrong word; he’s mildly lucid as he rushes for me. Everything moves in slow motion. His penis swings like a pendulum as he lunges, arms reaching, fingers clawed. He’s going to grab on to me and pull me down with him.Nononono!

Someone screams, maybe it’s me. And then the corpse collapses in front of me with a groan, a heap of skin and liquid as he pisses himself. The room fills quickly after that. I’m pushed against a wall as people rush from every hallway. It’s chaos. If it weren’t for the pill Bouncer gave me, I’d be part of the chaos. Instead, I take it all in: the wailing, the screaming, the pacing. Over the noise, three nurses bark orders back and forth. One of them,a broad middle-aged woman, kneels next to the man and pumps at his heart.

Where is Dr. Grayson? Someone find Dr. Grayson!A woman yanks at her graying hair with one hand, hugs her waist with the other. The group who’d been watching TV is huddled together, their expressions ranging from dark to flat. I look around for Crede and see him speaking into a walkie-talkie.

“New girl!” someone yells. I look around for the source of the voice and see a disheveled Bouncer trying to clear a space around the fallen man. “Get them out of here, clear the room!” She spreads her arms to prevent anyone from coming closer, a one-woman wall. “Everyone go to your room. Come on, guys—you know the drill!” They are pressing in without realizing it, transfixed by death. I’m aware I should be doing something, but I am also waiting for help, the trained professionals. I look for Crede’s unbothered face in the sea of faces—wasn’t he just standing across from me using his walkie? A man wearing an apron pushes past me, bumping into my shoulder. I don’t see his face, just the back of his head as he maneuvers to Bouncer.

Do something, Iris!

I can’t move. Maybe I don’t want to move. Reality is fuzzy. Have I always been able to hear my own heartbeat when I close my eyes? When I open them everyone around me is moving—white blurs in white space. I hold my breath to make it stop, and it does.

“You coming?” It’s the man in the apron. He’s plain-faced with sandy hair and eyebrows. Sandy skin—not sandy, freckled—even on the back of his hands. He’s managed to herd the lookie-loos out.All except one.

“Where?”

I can tell my answer is the wrong answer. He examines me closely, frowns. I’ve not been paying attention.

“The cafeteria…” Then, “You’re in shock…”

Am I? “Who is that man?” I can’t tear my eyes away. His socked feet are closest to me,bright white like he’s never walked on them.

“Was…”

“What?”

“He’s dead,” he says simply. “Otto. He’s been in a coma for months, poor guy.”

My mind is struggling to follow. I have to replay what he’s said to myself before I get it. “In a coma? So, he woke up and just…died?”

He shrugs. “I have a couple trays of brownies cooling in the kitchen. They’re supposed to be for after dinner, but I figure we can make an exception.”

I look past him to where Bouncer and the other two nurses kneel next to the body. They are no longer trying to resuscitate the man. Bouncer wipes a hand across her forehead, spent.

Help has arrived in the form of Jordyn and two men with a stretcher. The nurses rise, making way for them, while Jordyn stands over the body, surveying it with her hands on her hips. My heart is beating so loudly in my ears that I can’t hear what they’re saying.That’s not him, the guy is too old to be him…

I jump when someone touches my shoulder—it’s the man in the apron.

“Come on, new girl. They got a lot to sort out.”