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"What is it, Xris?" Harry heard the cyborg's ominous tone. "What've you found?"
Xris didn't answer. Walking over to a cream-colored wall, he examined the large wet splotch, touched it. Then he swore.
"Blood. And it's fresh."
"You need me up there?"
"No. Stay with the van."
Xris found several more red spots on the carpet, still more in front of the bathroom. Gun raised, he slowly pushed open the bathroom door with the toe of his boot, looked in the mirror on the wall to see if anyone was inside.
No one was. At least not that he could see from this angle.
Xris shoved open the door, whipped around it.
"Dear God in heaven!" he said, appalled.
"Xfis! What is it? You okay?"
"I'm fine," Xris said bitterly. "It's the Little One."
The small figure lay huddled in the bathtub. Blood was spattered all over the walls and the sides of the tub; the raincoat was soaked red, especially around the collar. The fedora was askew on the battered head.
Gently, Xris removed the hat, to try to get a better look at the injuries. He recoiled in revulsion and shock. Not from the sight of blood or the brutal punishment the small body had taken; Xris had seen people beaten up before. It was the sight of the small body itself.
"Xris?" Harry was getting nervous. "You better hurry. That doorman's been raising hell about our parking in a nopark zone
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