“Mrs Rosemont,” Andrew says, his tone firm, filled with authority, “for your own safety, I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside while we examine your husband.”
“For my own safety? What on earth are you talking about?”
I decide to step in, to show that I’m not just here for the ride, that I can actually contribute. “Mrs Rosemont,” I say, softly, “it’s safer that you stay outside. There’s been a report of Necro-Morbus around here, so just as a precaution, we’re going to take a look at your husband. It’s probably a false alarm, but we need to be sure. We’ll be five minutes, I promise. Is that okay?”
Mrs Rosemont shrugs stubbornly. “Well, I suppose.” She then steps out of her house. “He’s upstairs—last room at the end.”
“Thanks,” I say, smiling, ushering her over to the van. “He’s in
