120: When Clair slipped the silver key engraved with J.H.S.H. into locker 1812 and turned it, she didn’t expect anything to happen. She expected the key to freeze in place like it had on every other locker she’d tried in the past few hours. She didn’t expect it to turn, and she surely didn’t expect it to unlock.
“Sue?”
Her orderly/locker tour guide glanced up from a paperback copy of the latest Nora Roberts novel and pulled the earbuds from her ears. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Who does locker eighteen-twelve belong to?”
Sue brushed a strand of blond hair from her eyes and began flipping through the folder at her side. She stopped on the third or fourth page and ran a finger down the list. “That is . . . shit.”
“Whose is it?”
“Dr. Randal Davies, Oncology. He . . . he died, day before last. The whole hospital is talking about it. Severe stroke, but he was healthy as a horse. His daughter . . .”
Clair had stopped listening.
She tugged at the locker door, opened it slowly.
Inside she found a thick folder, nearly two inches thick. Sitting atop the folder was a bright red apple. A hypodermic needle stuck out from the side.
Clair pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and slipped them on. “Sue? Can you get my bag? I think it’s still in the admin office.” She would need evidence bags.
With two fingers, she gingerly removed the apple from the locker and turned it in her hand. The flesh around the needle was slightly discolored, but otherwise the apple showed no sign of age. She carefully set it down on the bench behind her and reached back in for the folder, both hands this time. She removed the bulky folder from the locker and placed it on the bench beside the apple.
The label read: PAUL EDWARD UPCHURCH.
Inside the folder she found at least two hundred pages, some fastened to the sides, others loose. Reports, notes, test results, imaging—all dating back nearly a year. At the very top, written in familiar blocky letters, was a note:
Hello, Detective Norton, or maybe Detective Nash? I imagine one of you. I hope you have been well. Better than others.
B