The woman at the front desk had told him the man he was looking for would be in the first lab past the offices, but who knew there would be so many damn offices? Ironically, the stitched-up hole and titanium screws in his back weren’t bothering him all that much. It was the shattered ribs. Deep breaths were completely impossible, and just getting out of bed was a project that involved him sliding off the mattress and onto the floor. Still, it was good to be out and moving around—particularly with no one trying to kill him. He stopped in front of an open door and tapped quietly on the frame. The woman inside glanced up from her computer. “Can I help you?” “I’m looking for Dr. Greg Maple.” “You’re on the right track,” she responded with a smile. “Keep going. First lab you come to.” “Is it much farther?” She seemed confused by the question, examining his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and tan face.
