Charice and Preeti.
I brace my weight on the table. “Did they install cameras in the call rooms?”
Charice glances at Preeti. “I don’t know. Isn’t that illegal?”
“There’s a camera in the anesthesia call room.”
“What?” Preeti stands. “No way.”
Both women follow me back to the room in question, where I point at the device on the ceiling.
Charice gasps. “I’m checking the locker room.” She flees down the hall while Preeti whips out her hospital phone.
“Who are you calling?” I ask.
“Charge.”
Right. The charge nurse always knows what to do. Charge nurses are like magicians, only their magic is real.
“Candi,” Preeti says into the phone. “Can you meet me in the anesthesia call room? I have something you need to see.” She hangs up and pockets the phone, then stares up at the camera, narrow-eyed.
Charice returns in short order. “No cameras in the locker room.”
“This is... weird,” Preeti says.
Candi’s taken aback when she enters, pausing to eye each of us in turn. “What’s going on?”
All three of us point at the camera, and Candi’s eyes follow. When her gaze lands on the device, she scowls. “What the actual fuck?”
I throw both arms out toward her, palms up. “That’s what I said!”
Candi pulls out her phone.
“Who are you calling?” Preeti asks.
“Security.”
Yeah. That makes sense. Get ’em, Candi. Find out who the hell thinks they can spy on me while I’m lusting after TV homes? This is unconscionable.
The three of us dive deep into conspiracy theories while we wait for the security team, each of them more ridiculous than the last. The leading hypothesis is that it was placed by mistake.
Because, just... Why?
I glare at the offending red light.
This can’t be real. Something is up.
Two pudgy men arrive after a full quarter hour, and I thank the Powers That Be that this wasn’t a real emergency.
Pudgy Man Number One squares his shoulders. “What’s the problem, ladies?”
Candi points up. “Is this a hospital camera?”
Pudgy Man Number Two squints at the device. “Uh—”
“That doesn’t look like one of ours,” says PMN1.
PMN2 looks around the space. “Isn’t this a private sleeping area?”
