She offered coffee and poured him a Styrofoam cupful from a Mr. Coffee on a shelf.

“We’ve got sugar and Cremora.”

“Two sugars’ll do.”

“My only vice,” she said, sipping from an oversize black ceramic mug with nadj printed in big white letters along the side. “An indispensable habit you pick up in residency.”

“Can I ask you something straight off?” Jack said.

“Sure.”

“No offense, but are you old enough to be a doctor?”

She gave him a tolerant smile. “Everyone asks me that. Yes. I’m cursed with a baby face. A blessing if you’re a model or an actress, but not when you’re a doctor, especially a woman doctor trying to inspire respect and confidence. But trust me, I’m a fellowship-trained, board-eligible endocrinologist.”

“That’s hormones, right?”

“Right. I do glands—thyroid, parathyroid, adrenal, pituitary, pancreas, and so on. Diabetes is one of the mainstays of endocrinology, which is why I’m here, but my special interest is in steroids.”

“Muscle juice?”

Another smile. “Anabolic steroids are just one kind. Cortisone is another; so is estrogen. Remember what that guy whispered to Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate!”

“Sure. ‘Plastics’.”

“Right. One of my professors did the same thing for me once. He said, ‘Steroids… the future is steroids.’ And over the years I became convinced he was right. Even got to contribute some original research to the field. But enough about me, what about you? Whatever did you do for Alicia Clayton to make her recommend you so highly?”

Jack wasn’t going to answer that. “How do you know Alicia?”

“High school. We weren’t really friends, but we were both A students so we had advanced classes together. She went away to college, but now she’s back and we keep running into each other. We’re friends now. I told her about a problem I had and she gave me your number.” Nadia cocked her head at Jack, a puzzled look on her face. “She said I could trust you with my life.”

Hope she didn’t give you any details, he thought.

“Is your life in danger?”

“No. But the way she said it—what on earth did you do for her?”

“I’m sure Alicia can fill you in on all the details.”

“That’s just it. She won’t say anything further than it was sometime around last Christmas.” Nadia smiled. “She said you were discreet too, and now I see what she meant.”

As pleasant as this young woman was, Jack wanted to get to the point. “What can I do for you, Nadia?”

“It’s about my boss.”

Please, not a sexual harassment thing, Jack thought. A stalker he could handle, but innuendo and suggestive behavior were too slippery.

“The guy who runs this place?”

“No. The clinic is run by a hospital, and I just volunteer here.”

“You give these folks insulin shots?”

“No. A nurse handles that. I monitor their charts, test for end organ damage, manage the cases. We treat mostly homeless folk here. Imagine being a homeless diabetic—no place to keep your insulin chilled, no way to check your blood sugar, unable to buy clean needles.”