She gathered the files into her arms. Quickly, she relocked the chest and replaced the supplies, so it looked as if nothing had been disturbed. She hoped Dr Smeltz didn’t look too carefully. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she shut the storage room door again.

Music thumped from the waiting room. It was Nicki Minaj. Peach switched off the lights and inched the office door open. The hallway lights were dark, but she pushed her face out to peek down the hallway, and she saw that the lobby door was open. A male voice rose above the music; the first man was on his cell phone. As she watched, he wandered into view, his back to her. He was tall and meaty, wearing a tight gray uniform.

Peach slipped into the hallway. A red EXIT sign glowed at the end of the corridor to her left. The medical files were snug under her right arm. Rain drummed on the roof above her. She backed up, keeping her eyes on the man in the lobby. Nicki sang about ‘Beez in the Trap,’ and the security guard did the worst white man’s dance Peach had ever seen. He was still on the phone.

‘Are you kidding? No way I’m apologizing to her. Okay, so I yelled at her kid. Big deal. She’s lucky I didn’t put my foot up his ass. Little twit was sticking peanut butter in my Blu Ray player! Is that supposed to be funny? I mean, the thing’s completely f—’

He spun around, still dancing, and then he stopped dead.

Peach was a shadow halfway down the hallway, but he stared right at her. Their eyes met across the dark space. His mouth fell open in surprise.

‘HEY!’ he bellowed.

Peach turned and sprinted. Footsteps pounded behind her, but a scream and crash intervened as the man slipped in the pooled water and wiped out. She stole a look behind her; he was struggling to get up. He shouted curses after her, but she widened the gap and hit the emergency exit door with her shoulder. It flew open, and she bolted into the storm. Her heart was thumping, her mouth open, swallowing water that sprayed into her face. It was night, and the rainfall was a black shroud.

She was across the plaza before the man made it out of the building. She raced into the darkness and disappeared.

33

Cab perched his long legs on the motel bed, which took up most of the room. The motel had a musty, old-cigarette smell. He sat by the window with an open bottle of red wine in front of him. The hammering of rain on the glass was hypnotic. The wine was delicious; he always kept a bottle of Stags’ Leap in the rear of the Corvette, in case of emergency.