“Mr Ashworth is in the recreation room again,” Julie whispered to the night supervisor.
Patricia frowned. “That’s impossible. He’s supposed to be bed-bound in Ward C.”
“I know, but he’s sitting by the piano. Mrs Fletcher is terrified.”
This was the third time this week. Yesterday, maintenance found him in the locked storage room. Tuesday, he’d somehow appeared in the staff kitchen at 3am, staring out the window.
“How does he keep getting around?” Julie asked. “The doors are all keycarded. The lifts need staff access. And when I wheeled him back to his room yesterday, he whispered ‘I don’t belong here.’ Gave me the chills.”
Patricia checked her tablet, scrolling through the resident roster. Her face went pale.
“Julie, Mr Ashworth can’t be wandering around.”
“Why not?”
“Because according to this, he died three weeks ago. His room’s been empty since the funeral.”
Julie looked back toward the recreation room, where the piano had begun playing by itself.
“Should I tell him?”
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