Wallace froze with his thumb on the plunger, his face turning the gray color of wet newspaper.

Christopher turned around from the tall window by the dressing table and dropped his gold pen onto the hardwood floor.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Christopher said, his clipped tone rising an octave.

“This is a private medical room.”

Detective Miller didn’t look at him.

He stepped between Dr.

Wallace and the brass bed frame and reached out with one gloved hand to take the filled syringe right out of the doctor’s fingers.

“You have five seconds to stand against that far wall, Doctor,” Detective Miller said.