She knew he was right, but the anger at having watched the man killed before her eyes—in the corridor of a hospital, no less—drove her onward. Reaching the treatment room, she saw it was unoccupied and she lowered the man onto the treatment table. Once he was prone, lying faceup, there was no denying that he had passed. His eyes, thankfully, were closed, and she found herself transfixed by the wound and blood marring the right side of his head, face, and neck.
