Common Scents

She braced herself at the landing, but the smell, a combination of urine and old people, covered by antiseptic, thickened her throat. She peered down a hall with green-painted walls and a scuffed linoleum floor. A staffing station occupied the other end, and a head of brown hair occasionally bobbed up and down behind it.
Half way down the hall, a nurse emerged from a small storeroom, wheeling a cart with a water pitcher, tongue depressors, a jar of applesauce, and tiny cups filled with pills. Locking the door, she slipped a ring of keys into her pocket. Georgia drew near her, the chatter from her radio muffling her footsteps. The nurse looked up with a harried expression, as if she were struggling to keep chaos at bay.
Georgia couldn't tell if her pale eyes, yellow hair, and washed out skin were the result of fluorescent lighting or her natural color. She checked her nameplate. Vivian Muldoon: Manager/Head Nurse.
"Officer." Muldoon stood straight and quiet, as if she was used to hearing bad news. "Is there a problem?"
Georgia cleared her throat. "I'm following up on an allegation of abuse."
The nurse stiffened. With her peripheral vision, Georgia saw the woman behind the counter look up, too.
"There must be some mistake."
Georgia pulled out her notebook. "Do you have a patient named Patricia Hanson?"