The pharmacy was the perfect wealthy suburban neighborhood kind. Bright lighting, neatly stocked shelves, rows of high-end vitamins and overpriced supplements.
The air smelled like lavender hand sanitizer, and a soft acoustic cover of a pop song played in the background. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Which was exactly why it worked.
Claire walked up to the counter, where a goth-looking girl sat leaning on her elbow, scrolling through her phone. Choppy black hair, too much eyeliner, silver piercings glittering under the light. The name tag on her black scrub top read "Riley."
Claire cleared her throat. "Hi, I'm here to see Dr. Emil."
Riley didn't even look up. "Don't know who that is."
Claire narrowed her eyes. "You work here, don't you?"
"No, I just sit behind pharmacy counters for fun."
'What a bitch,' Claire thought.
Claire exhaled sharply. "Look, I don't have time for this—"
