Deborah lay on a lounge by the window. When they entered she was apparently asleep. Across her forehead, covering her temples, two narrow bandages bound up her wound. As the detective and Bill crossed the room, she opened her eyes, and her bruised, discolored face broke into a smile. Then, noticing their evident anxiety, she sat up, leaning an elbow on her pillow. A trained nurse hovered in the background a moment, then noiselessly left the room.