They alighted from the car, the sun casting a weary golden glow across the glass facade of Saint Hildegard Memorial Hospital. Ambulances stood sentinel near the entrance, a faint mechanical hum of cooling fans mingling with the distant *ssu-ssu*—the hushed whispers—of nurses taking a well-deserved break.
Julian squinted up at the sign, hands in pockets.
"Why're we here again?"
Sara adjusted her jacket, already moving toward the entrance. "Because Hector died here."
Julian followed, his tone dry. "And someone stole his blood. Before death or after?"
Sara's steps didn't slow. "No idea."
The sliding doors whispered open, revealing the lobby's sterile brightness. A faint scent of disinfectant and aged metal hung in the air—the kind of place where every sound bounced back before fading away.
A nurse wheeled a patient past, and somewhere a machine beeped in sync with a pulse that wasn't theirs. Following the soft clicks of Julian's boots on the tiled floor, I noticed his gaze lingering on each corridor, each white coat.
"Anything from him yet?" Julian asked.
Sara's eyes flicked toward him. "Nothing. Things like this take time, you know."
Julian let out a low breath, more frustration than surprise. "Yeah… If anyone could just spit out what they knew about their dead family, things wouldn't be this damn hard."
Julian approached the reception counter, resting both hands on the edge. The woman behind it looked up from her screen, blinking like she'd just been yanked from a trance.
Julian's tone was calm, confident. "Julian Frost," he said, sliding a small black card across the counter. "Private investigator. We're reviewing the accident case involving Hector Vinchi — died three nights ago. I believe your hospital handled him?"
The receptionist's brow furrowed slightly as she glanced down at the card. No logo. No phone number. Just his name and a faint silver line cutting through the middle. She looked back up, uncertain. "Um… you'll have to speak with the attending physician for that. Dr. Nair handled the case."
Julian gave a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Perfect. Where can we find him?"
"One moment." She picked up the desk phone, murmured something quickly, her voice carrying just a trace of suspicion. After a few seconds, she hung up. "He's in Room 214, second floor — east wing."
Julian nodded. "Appreciate it."
As they walked down the corridor, the quiet between them was filled by the soft squeak of rubber soles and the low buzz of lights. Sara adjusted her coat sleeve. "You think he'll talk?"
"He'll talk," Julian said. "He just doesn't know it yet."
Room 214.
The plaque on the door read Dr. A. Nair — Trauma Surgery. Inside, the office was cramped, cluttered with medical charts, and smelled faintly of coffee gone cold. The man behind the desk looked like he hadn't slept in two days — mid-forties, glasses low on his nose, pen tapping absently against a file.
Julian entered first. "Dr. Nair?"
"Yes?" The doctor's tone was wary.
Julian flipped the black card between his fingers. "Private investigations. We're revisiting the Hector Vinchi case. You performed the emergency operation?"
The doctor leaned back, studying them both. "I did. But there wasn't much of an operation to perform — he was gone before we could stabilize him."
Sara crossed her arms. "Cause of death?"
"Massive internal bleeding. His left lung collapsed on impact, multiple rib fractures, and a deep abdominal tear. By the time the ambulance brought him in, he'd lost… at least two liters of blood, maybe more."
Julian's gaze sharpened slightly. "And who brought him here? The ambulance team — names?"
Dr. Nair rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Standard protocol — paramedic unit from District 7. Team lead was Nurse Halden. I can pull the log if you want specifics."
"Do that," Julian said. "And doctor… when he was admitted, do you recall if there were any irregularities? Anything off about the way the case was handled?"
The doctor hesitated. His eyes flicked toward Sara, then back to Julian. "Before that... can you tell me what's happening actually? I believe Mr. Hector's death was just a car accident, right? There's no FIR were involved. Then why now?"
Julian's reply was quiet, deliberate. "Because he died twice."
"Huh... twice?" The doctor forgot to breathe for a moment. "Can you be more specific?"
"I'd rather not." A devilish grin forming in his lips. "You wanna live longer, don't you?"
The doctor froze. His eyes looking at Julian not blinking. But internally his thoughts ran wild. Serching for an answer, but before he could say anything.
"Ouch." Julian looked at Sara for destroying his stage play. "What's that for?"
She didn't answer and looked at the doctor. Julian also followed.
"Hey doc. Chill..." Julian said casually, tapping the table slightly. "We'll explain everything in detail later. When we get what we here for."
Whatever it is... I am under thier mark. Thedoctorthought. He picked glass and drank some water. Giving rest to his dried throat.
"Alright" he agreed to Julian.
"Excellent." Julian clasped his hand. "Continue then. Any anomaly? Something out of place?"
Dr. Nair set the empty glass down and straightened the papers on his desk, buying himself a few seconds. "As I said, there weren't any anomalies. We received the call around 11:20 p.m., the ambulance arrived 15 minutes later. Hector Vinchi was unconscious, severe trauma across the chest and abdomen. We moved him to ER immediately."
Julian nodded slowly, watching every word. "And?"
"We did what we could. Fluids, transfusion prep, stabilizers. But by the time we got his vitals on the monitor, his pulse was already fading. Cardiac arrest hit within fifteen minutes of arrival."
Sara tilted her head slightly. "And no one tried resuscitation?"
"We did," Dr. Nair said quickly, almost defensive. "Three rounds of CPR, epinephrine, even direct massage. Nothing worked. The man was gone before we could start opening him up. Family arrived twenty minutes after."
Julian leaned forward, elbows resting lightly on his knees. "Who else was there with you in the room?"
"Two nurses — Halden and Mira — plus the paramedic team who brought him in. And a resident, Dr. Solanki, assisting."
"Names," Julian said, though his pen didn't move. He didn't need to write them; he remembered.
Dr. Nair adjusted his glasses. "They're all in the log. But again, nothing unusual happened. We declared time of death at 11:58 p.m., transferred the body to cold storage, and filled out the standard report."
Julian's gaze didn't waver. "You're certain? No missing supplies, no misfiled samples?"
"Missing?" The doctor frowned. "What would be missing?"
"Blood," Julian said simply.
Dr. Nair blinked. "Blood? No. Everything was accounted for. Samples, plasma, paperwork. If you're suggesting someone took something—"
"I'm not suggesting anything," Julian interrupted. "Just covering ground."
The doctor hesitated again, the faint lines under his eyes tightening. "You can check our records if you want, but nothing like that happened. We don't mishandle our cases here."
Julian gave a thin smile, unreadable. "No one's blaming you, Doc. Just standard cleanup."
Sara added, "We appreciate your cooperation."
That seemed to calm him a little. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling. "Alright. I'll have the ER logs and nurse roster printed for you. Give me fifteen minutes."
Julian nodded. "Perfect. We'll wait."
The doctor stood and left the room. The moment the door clicked shut, the air shifted — quieter, colder.
Sara looked toward Julian. "You don't believe him."
Julian's fingers drummed the desk lightly. "He believes himself. That's the problem."
"You think someone on his team did it?"
Julian's eyes lingered on the half-drunk water glass. "No. If blood was taken, it wasn't for money, and it wasn't random. Someone knew when to strike."
He rose from his seat, walking toward the window. The hospital courtyard stretched below — orderly, pale, indifferent.
Julian's reflection merged with it.
"Dead man's blood doesn't just walk out of a morgue," he murmured. "Means someone helped it leave."
Sara folded her arms. "So what now?"
Julian turned back toward the door. "We talk to the ones who held the stretcher. If any of them start sweating before I finish a sentence—"
He gave a faint grin. "—we're close."
Fifteen minutes later, the door opened again.
Dr. Nair stepped in first, followed by four people in hospital scrubs — two nurses, one paramedic, and a younger man in an orange ambulance vest. Their faces carried that tired, cautious look of people dragged into something they didn't quite understand.
Julian rose from his chair, smile faint and polite.
"Appreciate you all taking the time. We just need to go over a few things about Mr. Vinchi's case. Won't take long."
No one replied. The younger nurse shifted her weight; the paramedic rubbed his hands together.
"Relax," Julian said, pulling another chair closer. "Not an interrogation. Think of it as... group therapy. You talk, I listen."
Sara shot him a look. He grinned faintly.
Julian began with the first one — Nurse Halden, the team lead.
"You were in charge of the ambulance that night, right?"
"Yes," she said, straightening slightly. "We got the call around eleven. Single vehicle crash off Route 13. Male victim, heavy internal bleeding. We did what we could in-transit."
"Did what you could," Julian repeated softly. "That include drawing samples?"
She frowned. "Samples? No. We don't run labs in the ambulance, sir. Just saline, stabilizers, and monitoring."
"Anyone touch the patient apart from your team?"
"No one. Except the first responders, maybe — police."
Julian nodded, smiling. "Good. You seem sharp."
He turned to the next — the paramedic, an older man with graying hair. "And you?"
The man cleared his throat. "Same as her. We loaded him fast. He was unconscious, bleeding internally. Lost a lot before we even moved him."
Julian tilted his head. "How much blood, roughly?"
The man hesitated. "Hard to say. His clothes were soaked through. Maybe... two liters?"
Sara noted something down. Julian continued, voice still calm.
"When you arrived at the hospital, who received him?"
"Dr. Nair and his team. We handed over, signed the form, that's it."
"Did you see him after?"
"No."
"Anyone re-enter the ambulance before you left?"
The man looked confused. "Re-enter? No. We cleaned up, logged it, went back to base."
Julian hummed, leaning back in his chair. His tone stayed even, but his eyes moved between faces — measuring breath, pulse, hesitation.
Next was Mira, the second nurse. She couldn't have been older than twenty-four, her eyes darting between Julian and Sara.
"You were in the ER when he came in," Julian said gently.
She nodded.
"What's the first thing you remember after they brought him in?"
Her voice shook slightly. "His... blood pressure was zero. He wasn't responding. Dr. Nair tried everything, but—"
Julian raised a hand. "I'm not asking for the medical textbook. I mean... anything strange? People coming in or out? Someone asking to help?"
She thought for a moment, brow furrowed. "No... just us. Maybe one of the security staff peeked in. But that happens sometimes."
"Security staff?" Sara cut in. "Name?"
"I don't know. New guy, I think. Wasn't wearing full uniform yet. Bald, tall."
Julian's eyes flickered. "You remember his face?"
"Not really. It was... quick."
Julian smiled again, soft. "That's fine. You've been helpful."
He turned to the last one — the ambulance trainee, the youngest of the group, barely nineteen. He hadn't spoken yet.
Julian met his gaze, still smiling. "You're quiet."
The boy swallowed. "I'm new. I don't know if I can help."
"Sure you can," Julian said. "Sometimes new eyes catch what the veterans miss. Did you notice anything odd when you loaded or unloaded the body?"
The boy hesitated, glancing at Dr. Nair, then back at Julian. "No... but... the stretcher felt lighter when we got to the ER."
Julian's head tilted slightly. Sara froze.
"Lighter?" Julian asked, tone still calm. "You're sure?"
"Maybe I was tired, but... yeah. Like something wasn't there anymore."
Julian leaned forward, his smile soft but razor-edged. "That's good. You remember what time that was?"
"About eleven thirty-five."
Julian nodded slowly, as if the time was already filed in his head. "Thanks man. That's exactly the kind of detail that keeps the dead from dying twice."
No one understood what that meant — but the silence afterward was heavy enough to make them all look down.
Julian rose, brushing imaginary dust from his coat.
"Appreciate your help, folks. That'll be all for now. Don't go too far — we might call again."
He and Sara walked out of the office, leaving the air colder than when they'd entered.