St. Marrow Hospital was a skeleton.
Broken windows. Graffiti on the walls. The sign out front had rusted so badly you could barely read it. It had been condemned in 2016 after a fire in the west wing.
Anthony parked two blocks away. “If they’re watching the bank, they’re watching this place too.”
Benjamin pulled his coat tighter. “Closed for ten years and my grandfather’s note sends us here. Of course it does.”
The three of them slipped through a hole in the chain-link fence. The air smelled like mildew and ash.
Room 204 was on the second floor. The stairs groaned under their weight.
The hallway was dark except for thin light cutting through cracked blinds. Patient rooms lined both sides. Most were empty. Some still had beds.
Evelyn stopped in front of 204.
The door was closed.
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