The taxi screeched to a halt outside St. Mark’s Medical Center. Clara barely waited for it to stop before shoving the fare into the driver’s hand and bolting for the glass doors. The automatic panels slid open, and a wave of antiseptic, sharp and cold, hit her like a slap.
Her heels skidded against the polished floor as she sprinted toward the reception desk. “Hart. Lily Hart. Surgery—”
The nurse glanced up from her monitor, her expression softening at the desperation in Clara’s voice. “Sixth floor, OR wing. Take the elevators to your right.”
Clara didn’t wait for further instructions. She jabbed the elevator button repeatedly, bouncing on her toes like she could will the doors open faster. The metallic hum inside was suffocating, but her mind was worse—flashing with every terrible poss
