Without further delay, they crossed the courtyard and mounted the steps. On their way, both women nervously glanced at the rhododendron planter with its flattened bushes, an all-too-vivid reminder of Rebecca Ziegler’s awful fate.

Marissa tried the door only to discover it was locked. She cupped her hands and peered through the glass. Inside, a cleaning crew was busy polishing the marble floor with electric polishers. She rapped on the glass several times, but the janitorial people didn’t respond.

“Damn,” Marissa said. She scanned the courtyard for another door, but there wasn’t one.

“Who would have guessed they would have locked up already?” Marissa said.

“I’m freezing,” said Wendy. “Let’s get back to the car and regroup.”

They turned and hurried back down the steps. Crossing the courtyard, bent over against the swirling debris, they approached a man coming into the clinic.

“The door’s locked,” Wendy told him as they passed. But the man just kept walking. Then, at the mouth of the courtyard another man appeared, also heading for the clinic entrance. “Door’s locked,” Wendy said again.

The women turned right and hurried toward the parking lot. Suddenly Marissa stopped and faced back toward the courtyard opening.

“Come on,” Wendy urged.

One man, then the other, appeared. Catching sight of the women watching them, they quickly walked off in separate directions.

“What’s the matter?” Wendy demanded.

“Did you see that first man?” Marissa asked.

“Sort of,” Wendy said.

Marissa shivered, but this time not from the cold. “He gave me the creeps,” she offered, starting to walk again. “He reminded me of a bad trip I once had with ketamine. Weird!”

In the parking lot, Wendy fumbled with her keys. Her fingers were numb; she had trouble manipulating them. Once in the car, she reached over and opened the passenger side for Marissa. She then started the car, turning on the heater full blast.

“That was the strangest sensation I got from seeing that man,” Marissa said. “It was almost like déjà vu. How can you have déjà vu from a hallucination?”

“I had a bad experience with pot once,” Wendy admitted. “It was in California. Anytime I tried it after, it was the same. That was the end of pot for me.”

“I had a sort of flashback recently. Robert and I were at a Chinese restaurant. It was the oddest thing.”

“Well, maybe that was it,” Wendy said. “I think the first guy was Chinese. At least he was Asian.”

“Now you are going to make me sound like some kind of subconscious bigot,” Marissa said with a nervous laugh. Any mental phenomena outside of her control made her feel uneasy.

“What should we do now?” Wendy asked.

“I suppose we don’t have a lot of choice if the doors are locked,” Marissa said.

“What about going in the overnight ward on the other side of the street and crossing in the connecting walkway?” Wendy suggested.