“I work here, Dr. Wosniack,” he said at once.
“I don’t know you. What are you doing in my office? I’m going to call security.” Her words came out in the fast spit of a tobacco auctioneer. Instead of explaining, Henne held up his ID card that was strapped to a lanyard hung around his neck. He held it up like a talisman, hoping to ward off the evil that she felt was emanating from him. It had a portion of the desired effect. Her body tension softened while she drew her eyes to slits and looked at him shrewdly, the hard edge simmering below her words.
“What do you want, Mr…?”
“Henne. Just Henne. I came to talk with you about a patient you’ve had.”
“I don’t discuss anything private about my patients. You work here and should know that.”
“I just need some answers,” he said.
“I told you,
