Page 13 of Brazilian Surrender
Chapter Five
“Do you keep your cell phone with you?” Jaeger asked when they slid out of his car, parked at the end of the Hatch Psychiatric Center lot.
“No, we’re allowed to have pagers. They’re lighter. They’re also crap.”
Jaeger walked alongside her, managing to keep his cool. For the past hour, they hadn’t exchanged many words after he’d told her about his sexual preferences. He’d shared his secret with her in hopes she’d be irked by it. He’d seen the long glances she shot his way, and when she’d touched his hand, a thrill of both excitement and fear shot up his arm. So he ended up telling her, to discourage her from displaying any signs of interest.
Camila checked in at reception, instead of showing her ID like the other doctors. He listened as she told the receptionist something about bringing a psychology student for a tour, and the burly receptionist asked for his ID.
Jaeger handed it to the man, who frowned and checked it.
“You’re a student?” the guy asked.
“Yes. Misspent youth,” Jaeger said.
The receptionist printed an ID label and handed it to Jaeger. “Make sure your cell phone is off and not on you. No pictures allowed. Don’t interact with the patients.”
“Thank you.”
Jaeger put the ID on his chest and went with her. Once they passed the hallway, he took off the sticker and put it in his pocket. “Where does Jeffrey keep his cell phone?”
“Probably in his locker, unless he’s in the break room charging it.”
“Take me to his locker first.”
She glanced at him. “People will notice you’re not a doctor.”
“Let me worry about it.”
She led him through an area where positive quotes filled the walls. It seemed a bit cheesy, but at the same time he appreciated the difference from the usual plain, arctic white hospital walls.
When he entered the locker area, she led him to Jeffrey’s. A couple of people waved at her and she greeted them back. He could tell by her stiff walk none of this made her comfortable.
“It’s this one,” she whispered to him, and gave him cover by hanging next to him while he popped the lock open. “You’re good.”
He rummaged through the paperwork, some of it just patient reports, and a couple pictures hanging on the back. One of them was a group photo, with about six people on it—and she was one of them. “When was this taken?”
“Oh. We celebrated his birthday. A year ago, at the cafeteria,” she said, pointing at the cupcakes.
Why would he keep a picture that included the girl who told him off? Jaeger tapped the metal, but besides a couple of packs of gum and a change of clothes he found nothing. “Where else did you say his cell phone could be?”
“He could be breaking the rules and keep it with him.” She glanced at her watch. “There’s a break room the interns hang out in between patients. But it’s small and if you go in there, they’ll know you’re not one of them. It’s not necessarily a place I’d show anyone on a tour.”
“Take me there,” he said.
She didn’t exchange many words as they entered the elevator to the second floor. He heard a couple of shouts from patients as they rode the elevator. The stark reality of the other floors surpassed the quiet serenity of the lobby level.
“Is someone playing the piano?” he asked when he heard notes from far away.
“It can be soothing.”
He gave her a once-over. “No doubt.”
The elevator came to a halt. This level had a lot of rooms, some of them with glass walls so the nurse stations could keep an eye on the patients. “This level is for patients who come from emergency situations and need more care.”
“Where’s the break room?” he asked.
“The last one on the right.” She pointed. “We’ll go in together. If we see anyone, I’ll say you’re a friend. Sometimes residents charge their cell phones there. As long as they leave them there and don’t have it on them while we see patients the director won’t yell at us.”
