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Another lady in blue scrubs walked by pushing a basket of soiled laundry. She nodded at Gibson and moved on.
Gibson turned left and walked down the corridor, passing the library and community spaces. The nurses’ station on this hall was unoccupied. Retirement places had a hard time keeping workers because of low pay, she knew, and less than ideal circumstances. Working with the elderly, who were often in pain, depressed, and sometimes not in their right minds, would challenge anyone. Plus, even the upscale facilities operated on a shoestring, and to make a profit they had to keep the employee head count down as much as possible.
None of that was good as far as patient care went, but it was quite good for Gibson’s efforts today.
Each resident room had a name plate on it. She passed by twelve rooms without finding Trask’s.
She eyed a resident slowly making his way down the hall on a rollator. She asked him if he knew what room Sam Trask was in. He just looked back at her blankly, gummed his lips, and kept going.
She turned the corner and ran into another employee.
“Can I help you?” she asked, the woman’s features an intriguing mix of friendliness and suspicion.
“I was looking for Mrs. Edison’s room?” Gibson glibly asked, using the name she had seen on one of the rooms she had passed. She didn’t want to ask for Trask’s room in case the son had plants here. “She’s an old friend of my mother’s.” She held up the gift bag and flowers. “I thought this might brighten up her day.”
“I’m sure it will. Kate loves flowers. But you passed it. It’s back around the corner. Third door on the right.”
Gibson smiled. “Thank you. I guess I really do have to get those eyeglasses.”
The woman chuckled and went through a door markedEMPLOYEES ONLY.
Gibson kept going and turned the corner. She met an elderly woman pushing herself along in a wheelchair and whistling a tune that Gibson did not recognize.
The woman stopped and looked at Gibson. “Are you lost?” she said.
“I think I might be. It’s my first visit here to see my great-uncle.”
“His name?”
“Sam Trask.”
“Room 223, upstairs.”
“Thank you so much.”
Gibson found the stairs, headed up, and ten seconds later was knocking on Trask’s door. She noted the sign next to the door that warned of oxygen being used inside.
“Come,” said an authoritative voice.
She opened the door and, breathing heavily—not from the stairs, but from apprehension—walked in.
Maybe I can get some of that oxygen.
CHAPTER33
THE FIRST THING GIBSON NOTEDabout the front room was how neat it was. There was no sign of clutter, just minimal furnishings. Two chairs, one coffee table, one towering shelf bulging with books with wide-ranging titles, a small kitchen area with a sink and cabinets and an under-the-counter fridge. The pictures on the wall looked like they might have been bought at the same print shop: birds, landscapes, a mountain. There were no personal photos, no knickknacks. On the carpet she saw the recent vacuum lines. The counter had a microwave and a few neatly arranged cards wishing happy holidays, and she spied one birthday greeting. Across from the kitchen was the bathroom.
There was an oxygen concentrator machine plugged into a wall outlet, and she saw the tubing snake down the floor and into the rear room. There was no doorway leading into the back room, just a short hall.
“Who is it?” called out the same voice.
“Mr. Trask?” Gibson said as she set the gift bag and flowers down on the counter and walked to the rear of the space. “I wanted to have a chat if that’s okay?”
She took a moment to look around. There was a large flat-screen TV on the wall playing CNN. There was a bed, and a nightstand with several books stacked on it. A recliner was angled next to it. A bookcase standing against one wall was full of tomes with serious titles, mostly dealing with geopolitics. A small window overlooked a courtyard below.
Sam Trask was seated at a desk with a laptop in front of him. A rollator stood at the ready next to him. What Gibsonwasn’tseeing in the small apartment intrigued her.
Trask wheeled around in his chair and looked at her. The oxygen tubing was connected to a cannula, which was inserted in his nostrils.
