The Missing Link

029. Leads or Distractions

At St. Luke's Hospital, Zane approached Room 203, a sense of purpose in his stride. Inside, a thirty-two-year-old woman lay in the hospital bed, her face pale and drawn, the feeling of persistent stomach pain visible in her every movement.

"How are you feeling, Ms. Ibañez?" Zane asked, stepping inside with a mask and gloves securely in place.

The woman shifted, her discomfort evident as she glanced at him. "Can I eat, please? I'm starving," she murmured, desperation creeping into her voice.

Zane met her gaze with a sympathetic nod, his eyes soft above the mask as he checked the IV drip. "I know it's difficult," he said gently, "but you'll need to wait a little longer. The other nurses still need to collect a blood sample for testing. Eating now could affect the results, and we want to make sure we don't miss anything important."

The woman exhaled a weary sigh, sinking into the pillows. "Fine, but this better be worth it. I haven't eaten since last night."

Zane scribbled on the chart with brisk efficiency. "We'll get you sorted as soon as we can," he assured her. His tone softened as he glanced up. "You've not eaten since last night-may I ask why?"

Her brows knit tightly. "That's none of your concern."

Zane paused, then nodded. "Understood." He shifted the conversation. "Are you feeling any better now?"

"I just need food," she muttered, her gaze lifting to meet his. "After that, I'll be fine." Her voice softened as she asked, "What's your name?"

Her eyes lingered on him, an almost deliberate intensity flickering beneath her lashes-inviting, yet veiled.

"Uh, my name's Zane Nuñez," he said, gathering his things, readying himself to move on to the next patient.

The woman's lips curled into a faint smirk. "You look like a young man with... a good build," she remarked. Her tone held a peculiar edge. "Are you healthy?"

A strange unease prickled at the back of Zane's mind. He straightened, forcing a polite smile. "I... I am, ma'am," he replied, his voice steady despite the flutter of nerves.

"What time is it?" she asked, her gaze lingering a moment too long.

Zane glanced at his watch, the hands hovering near seven. "It's 6:46, ma'am," he said, his heart drumming against his ribs as he tried to maintain composure.

"I need to eat," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

"Just a few more minutes, miss. Don't worry," Zane replied. "I'll be heading to the other room now." Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he stepped out, closing the glass door quietly behind him.

Zane's shift flowed with routine efficiency as he tended to patients in the east wing of the second floor, periodically checking in to ensure all was in order. By nine o'clock, he began to relax, taking a brief reprieve before the next wave of duties.

The calm didn't last. The piercing wail of the emergency alarm shattered the quiet, echoing through the hospital corridors.

The double doors slammed open, and paramedics surged through, wheeling a stretcher at a frantic pace. Zane froze momentarily, his breath catching as his gaze fell on the patient. A man, drenched in blood, lay motionless, his skin ashen.

"Zane, the patient from earlier was pronounced dead on arrival," Dr. Ferrer said, her voice steady but hinted with urgency. "Pathology's short-staffed tonight, and may I ask if you can assist with the preliminary handling of the case. Can you spare some time?"

She didn't wait for an answer before adding, "Sarah will accompany you. She's done this before."

Zane paused. His duties rarely veered into the morgue, but after a brief moment's thought, he nodded. "Of course. Just let me know what's required."