The younger officer closed his notebook with a quiet snap. “Thank you, Mrs. Thompson. We’ll step out to confirm a match.” Confirm a match. The phrase echoed through her mind like a warning bell. A match to what? Or to whom? Her fingers trembled violently as fear surged upward.
The officers left the room, and the nurses immediately grew more tense. Their movements sharpened, their whispers intensified, and the air seemed to thicken with expectation. Sandra watched their uneasy glances toward the hallway, feeling her own panic bloom into an unbearable tightness, suffocating her, and ready to spill over.