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Show 199 What should she do? The pharmacist stood at the typewriter, his hands still poised over the keys. Every muscle frozen in place, his shirt soaked in sweat, two giant half moons under each arm. Like a catatonic. The paralyzing fear in him-a fear so strong he could not move if he wanted. Twelve-fifteen. There was nothing to do but wait. She prayed. She prayed from Mr. Richards to be alive. She prayed with that image of his face-that last imploring look to her-Oh God, let him be alive. Oh God, let him be alive. Suddenly, a small movement came from behind. She turned, and there stood Mr. Richards. Blinking his eyes in the light, holding the curtain back with one hand, the doorway darkened behind him. He looked at them, confused, his face white. Simply, he said: "He's gone." The man had fled out the back door. Steve had a double hernia. She didn't find that out for sure until the next day. But that was what the paramedic said he thought it was. It was disabling, the paramedic said, but not a serious emergency. The driver of the ambulance had not even turned on the red lights when they took Steve away. The next morning she walked down to the store before it opened. to talk with the detective. Last night, before going home, they had explained it all to the police. Had gone through it all with them completely, she thought. But still they wanted them all there this morning to go over it again. The detective would talk with Steve separately |