The door slammed open and Beatty stood in the frame, back-lit by the light in the hall. He walked in the room slowly. Charlie held her breath and fought to stay on her feet.
He walked close to the gurney and into the puddle formed by her still-dripping IV bag. He studied the floor and the plastic tubing for a moment, then looked at the read-out. He was about three feet away from Charlie and she hoped the brightness of the screen would make her hard to see behind it. She could feel and hear the blood dripping off the end of her finger onto the floor.
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