The older man slumped over in the chair, out nearly as cold as his daughter had been for the past four weeks. He wasn’t in a coma, though. Just unconscious...
For now. He would wake up, though.
So he didn’t have much time to take care of the patient—to send her from her hospital bed to the morgue. Even now he was taking a terrible risk...
Not just that the old man would wake up but also that someone else might see him. Not that it would be unusual for him to be going in and out of a patient’s room. He was a nurse after all.
But he didn’t make enough as a nurse to pay off all the debt he’d accumulated, so he’d taken another job. All he’d had to do was keep tabs on her condition.
Eleanor Prentiss shouldn’t have woken up at all. But since she had...and all the machines monitoring her breathing, blood pressure and brain activity had been removed, he could make even more money than he already had. He just had to finish what someone else had started.
He walked past her father slumped in that chair to approach her bed. She lay back on the pillows, her thick lashes casting dark shadows on her cheeks. She was asleep, too.
After turning up the heat in the private room, he’d drugged the water pitcher. Due to that heat, they’d both been drinking from it.
She was drugged. Not dead.
He stepped closer to the bed and drew in a deep breath. He had to do this. He had no choice. He was in too deep to back out now.
Ellie Prentiss had to die.
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