Chapter 9
The rain was coming down in a cold, slate-gray drizzle when Elena Vance pushed through the sliding glass doors of St. Jude Memorial on Monday morning at 7:55 AM. She was dressed differently today: no designer cardigan, no sunglasses, no high-heeled loafers. Instead, she wore plain black slacks, a simple navy pullover, and scuff-resistant sneakers. Her blonde hair was tied back in a neat, unassuming ponytail that required no claw clip to stay in place.
She reported to the logistics supervisor’s desk on the ground floor, clutching a manila folder containing her court-mandated service tracking sheets. The desk was manned by a middle-aged woman named Brenda, whose hair was dyed an aggressive shade of magenta and whose glasses hung from a beaded chain around her neck.
“Elena Vance?” Brenda asked without looking up from her computer screen.
“Yes. I’m here for my community service assignment.”
Brenda finally looked up, eyeing Elena from head to toe with a critical, unblinking stare that made Elena feel like a specimen under a microscope. “Dr. Hayes personally requested that you be assigned to inventory and transport staging. That means you don't talk back, you don't complain about the heavy lifting, and you treat every single box that comes through these doors with the same respect you’d accord a newborn baby. You understand?”
“Yes, I understand,” Elena said quietly, keeping her gaze fixed on the laminate desktop.
“Good. Your supervisor for the morning is going to be Leo Miller.”
Elena froze. The blood drained from her face, leaving her skin a pale, chalky white. “Leo? The... the courier?”
As if summoned by the mention of his name, Leo stepped out from the inner supply corridor, carrying a stack of sterile packaging trays. He stopped when he saw Elena standing across the desk. His expression didn't soften; it hardened into a mask of professional neutrality. He didn't yell, he didn't mock her, but his eyes conveyed a chilling message: I know what you are.
“Morning, Brenda,” Leo said smoothly, his eyes lingering on Elena for a fraction of a second too long. “Is this our new volunteer?”
May you like
“Herself,” Brenda replied briskly, handing Elena a clipboard and a blue visitor-plus badge. “Clock in, grab a yellow safety vest, and follow him down to sterilizing prep. Don't touch anything without asking.”
Elena swallowed hard, her chest tightening with panic. She wanted to turn around, walk back out into the rain, and face whatever prison sentence Evelyn Sterling had threatened her with. But the memory of Dr. Hayes’s voice—and the terrifying realization of what she had almost destroyed—anchored her feet to the floor. She took the clipboard, pulled the yellow vest over her navy pullover, and followed the courier down the corridor.
