“That’s the administrator, Mr. Hanson.”

“I would like to see him.”

“He’s with a very important visitor.”

“Who is that?”

“The president of the company that owns the clinic. Mr. Tillman.”

“I would still like to see him.”

“I’ll see if the head nurse can make an appointment with the administrator some time this week.”

Kier looked in the woman’s eyes. “It would be a great kindness if you could tell me how to find him now so that I could work out my niece’s problem.”

At that moment a nurse with a clipboard hurried toward them from the surgical wing, whispering, “They’re coming, they’re coming.”

Kier looked back at the charge nurse, who glanced nervously to the side, not meeting his

gaze. The four staffers around them looked bewildered, as if they were contemplating hiding in the closet.

A small swarm of people and a flashbulb-popping photographer appeared. They surrounded a tall, physically powerful man whose narrow waist and bulky upper body were ill-concealed by his L.L. Bean outdoor wear. Kier assumed this man to be Mr. Tillman. He didn’t look the doughboy executive that Kier had imagined. The man’s presence, his leathery face, black wavy hair, and hooked nose, the primitive intensity of his gaze, looked anything but soft and corporate.

Kier stepped into the group’s path, his sheer size slowing them to a near stop.

“Mr. Hanson?”

A short, balding man with black glasses stepped forward. “I’m Mr. Hanson. The clinic administrator. Can I help you?”

Kier appraised Hanson and the rest of the entourage, noting that Tillman watched him with

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