John asked.Frank sat on the windowsill reading the note card from Allison’s flowers. He dialed Zach’s cell and when the call went to voicemail, tried reaching him by radio. “He’s not answering. I say we go back to the van.”“I agree with Frank.” John’s stare darted nervously between Frank and the doorway.“You would,” Billy said, leaning into the hall. “It’s not like that. We can’t check every bed for Allison. We need to talk to Zach, find out where else she might be.” An elevator chimed and John jumped. “Someone’s coming.”Billy peered around the corner. Paint buckets spanned the walkway and plastic sheeting made it impossible to see more than a few feet. “I don’t see anythin’.” A propped up broom fell over and a black boot came into view. Then a tattooed arm. “Shit, it’s Reid.” Reid fidgeted with his two-way.“Frank, get in the chair,” John said.“I’m not an invalid.”“Frank, cut it out.” Billy ran over and shoved Frank into the seat.“We can’t take the wheelchair down stairs.”
