‘Who — who is it?’ she asked.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ Olin barked. ‘I asked you…’
‘Who is that, please?’ she repeated, looking at O’Brien, and pointed at the still figure on the stretcher.
‘A guy named Hater,’ O’Brien told her. ‘But answer the Lieutenant’s question.’
‘Hater? Is he dead?’
There was something about the way she was holding herself and the sudden horror in her eyes that stopped Olin from grabbing and shaking her. He glanced at O’Brien and nodded.
‘Yes, he’s dead. You don’t have to worry about him,’ O’Brien said. ‘Tel the Lieutenant about Baird.’
Slowly, as if she was sleep-walking, Anita walked over to the stretcher.
The intern, a young, red-faced fellow, looked up impatiently.
‘Can I see him, please?’ she asked.