Nineteen Thousand Dollars, a Forged Signature, and a Flight to the Dominican Republic
She nodded and tapped her notebook against her chin.
I stepped into the corridor and let the door swing shut.
The latch caught with a solid strike, locking Derek inside.
At zero eight hundred the next morning, I stood at the discharge desk in the pediatric wing.
The ward was quiet.
A cleaning cart rattled softly in the distance.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
A billing clerk handed me a yellow invoice for a six-day stay in the intensive care unit.
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