Page 61 of Witches of Dubious Origin
I knew she was right and yet…“Do we? Do we really? No one knows who we are. We could just slip out the side door and fade into the afternoon light.”
Olive frowned. “I imagine our containment specialist would disagree.”
Damn it. She was right. Jasper would want everything tied up nice and neat with no loose ends, such as a man who’d been dead for weeks being found on the floor of his former office.
“Fine, let’s go.” My tone was at best grudging.
The laundry room was mercifully deserted and there was a pile of clean scrubs to choose from. Olive commandeered a rolling laundry bin for our street clothes and we quickly pulled on the pale blue scrubs. Of course, we didn’t have badges, but Olive didn’t seem to think that was a problem.
Olive grabbed a spare set of scrubs for Jasper and texted him that we were on our way to admissions. We got lost three times in the maze that was Mystwood Manor. I wondered ifthey designed these places on purpose to keep the residents too disoriented to complain.
When we reached admissions, Eloise guided us to the hallway behind the department. Sure enough, three heavy-duty stretchers were parked there, with Jasper standing beside one of them.
“How did it go?” Olive asked him.
“It’s sorted, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said.
“I am.”
“Shelly is resting comfortably in the infirmary,” he said. “I informed the nurse that she appeared to be dehydrated or suffering from low blood sugar, as she was hallucinating about the former director right before she fainted.”
“Very truth-adjacent,” Olive approved.
“She’ll be all right,” he said. “And if we can get Moran out of her office before she returns, all the better.”
“Agreed.” Olive nodded.
“One more thing.” Jasper reached into his pocket and removed a flash drive. He glanced at me as he handed it to Olive. “I helped myself to the patient records while the medical team was working with Shelly. Juliet Ziakas’s chart is on that. Let’s hope it gives us some answers.”
“Nicely done.” Olive pocketed the drive and pointed to the stretcher closest to the elevator. Jasper wheeled it away, with Olive guiding it after she pushed the rolling laundry bin to me.
Eloise and I fell into step behind them. I tried to maintain a calm facade even as I could feel my heart racing. What would my mother’s medical records reveal about her condition while she was here? I was desperate to know. Wouldwe discover that she had been murdered, as Eloise had suggested?
I knew we had to deal with Moran’s body, but I really would have preferred to leave the facility immediately to look at the files Jasper had found. As a librarian, I knew research was a lengthy process, but this wasn’t just research. It was personal.
Once in the elevator, Olive tossed the scrubs to Jasper. “Change.”
Where I would have balked at stripping in front of three people—okay, two people and one former person—of the opposite sex, Jasper didn’t even hesitate. He shrugged out of his jacket and began to pull his sweater over his head. As the wool and the T-shirt beneath inched up over his very impressive set of abs, I found myself wondering what the rest of shirtless Jasper looked like.
Olive cleared her throat and stared pointedly at me and then Eloise.
I glanced at Eloise, who seemed unaware that Olive had made any noise. Instead, she was staring at Jasper with her mouth hanging slightly open. I pressed my lips together, hoping I hadn’t been doing the same. I reached out and spun Eloise around, facing away from Jasper, as I turned my back on him as well.
“Wait! I’m not done ogling,” she said. “What harm could there be in that? I’m undead. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a handsome man in the buff?”
“It’s going to be a bit longer.” Olive was already facing the door, clearly the only one of us with any sense of self-control.
I heard the zip of Jasper’s pants and stared up at the number display above the door. Surely, we should be on the third floor by now. The sound of clothing rustling seemed awfully loud in the small space and I swallowed, overly aware of the physical act of doing so. I wondered if it was actually possible to choke on my own tongue. There was a ding as the elevator landed and I heard Jasper toss his clothes into the laundry bin with the rest of ours.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw that he was dressed fully in scrubs. Eloise let out a disappointed sigh and I shifted my gaze to her and saw the regretful expression on her face. I knew exactly how she felt.
Olive handed out medical caps and masks and we swiftly donned them while exiting the elevator. Mercifully, the hallway was clear.
The stretcher was remarkably easy to handle and we trundled down the hallway toward the director’s office. Olive paused to unlock the door, and a middle-aged woman wearing a purple pullover sweater and plaid wool pants came striding down the hallway with a file under one arm and a fierce expression on her face.
“Who are you? What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “This is Interim Director Dabrowski’s office. If you’re looking for a patient, you won’t find them in there.”
Olive eyed the woman over her mask. Even with her striking features covered, Olive’s eyes bored into the other woman’s gaze until the woman glanced away.
