Your welcum g man.
The cell phone registers the other mobile phone as having a silent number.
As
Aidan's shocked breathing begins to slow down, he becomes faintly aware of having heard the term 'g man' before. It's not his current case but one long, long ago. The voice of a child who had vanished from a similar hospital only to call him during the night, desperate and alone.
The child had spoken too quickly and he had been tired and drunk from a night on the town. He could hardly even understand him and what little he had heard made no sense. Then there had been a large, high-pitched noise and someone had hung up the phone. It had been nightmarish. No signs, no clues, the police had been at a loss.
The floor below beckons to him. The ash floats lazily in the air like dust might in an old building. A snack vending machine had released its load of candy bars across the floor. A ball of wall had been dropped near where a person's half-finished knitting sits on the bench. The ball had rolled across the floor before stopping somewhere near the middle.