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Randall Lenz stared at the psychiatrist, face impassive, even though what he really wanted to do was tell the man this was an utter waste of his time and that he was going to walk out.
“It’s natural to experience side effects from an extended fugue state,” Dr. D’Onofrio was saying, voice almost too precise, as though he thought if he enunciated everything clearly, even a dunce like a federal agent should be able to understand what he was talking about. His hazel eyes looked muddy behind the frameless glasses he wore, and his thinning dark hair was speckled with gray. And he was a good five or six inches shorter than his patient, a discrepancy he didn’t like very much, if the way he’d quickly asked Lenz to take a seat was any indication. “Your assistant said you’ve been having headache
