Henderson pushed the door open, ready to reprove his friend, until he saw him there, sitting in the chair. Hicks had his left sleeve rolled up. His right hand had caught on his collar, as though to help himself breathe, but the real reason was on the inside of his left elbow. Peter didn’t approach the body. For a moment, he didn’t do anything. Then he knew he had to get out of here. He removed a handkerchief and wiped the doorknob, closed the door, and walked away, trying to keep his stomach under control.
