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Summary
"We both know we don't have time to stand around and listen to you stutter out half a thought, so get on with it. What about her?" she asks again.
Whitaker takes a single, steadying breath. "She …" He wets his lips, eyes scattering across the room before they return no more confidently to meet hers, "She took a scalpel out of one of the suture carts in the hallway."
Or: What if Whitaker had seen Santos take the scalpel and told Garcia?
