Chapter 4 - The Tainted Drip
Clara’s medical knowledge was basic—gleaned from two semesters of pre-nursing before tuition money vanished—but she knew intravenous bags shouldn't leave chalky sediment.
""Don't worry,"" she whispered, her hands working fast. ""I see it.""
She reached for the roller clamp on the IV tubing and rolled it shut, halting the steady descent of the spiked saline. Edward’s eyelids closed slowly, a silent gesture of relief. The erratic green line on the telemetry monitor smoothed out, climbing from forty-two beats per minute to a steadier fifty.
Footsteps echoed down the stone corridor outside.
Clara whipped around. The heavy brass door handle rattled. She looked at the shut clamp. If the family doctor saw it stopped, they would realize she knew. With quick precision, Clara traced the tubing, severed the hidden lower connector with a manicurist file she found in her coat pocket, and redirected the poisoned fluid into an empty decorative brass vase tucked behind the nightstand, leaving the needle port running empty saline backflow.
The door swung open. A gaunt man with round spectacles and an expensive black leather medical bag stepped inside, flanked by Richard Kane.
""Dr. Alan,"" Richard said smoothly, lighting a cigar despite the oxygen tank nearby. ""Has the boy stabilized, or should we prepare the obituary notices for the morning papers?""
Dr. Alan approached the bed, barely acknowledging Clara. He checked the IV bag, noted the fluid level dropping into the tubing, and gave a sinister smirk. ""His vitals remain critically depressed. I've administered a sedative-neurotoxin blend to ensure his muscles don't spasm during the night. His heart won't survive past sunrise.""
Clara kept her head bowed, playing the cowering street rat. ""Is... is he going to die?""
""Mind your place, orphan,"" Richard spat. ""Be grateful you’ll inherit a tiny widow's stipend once the probate closes. Alan, finish your rounds.""
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The doctor reached into his coat and produced a pre-loaded syringe filled with amber liquid. ""A final booster to ease his suffering.""
Clara’s heart slammed against her ribs. He was going to inject it directly into the port.
