Annie carefully scrutinized the paperwork she was holding. Satisfied that everything was in order, she stuffed it all into a manila folder she picked up from the desk. “Get your things, people. Do not leave anything behind. One more time, do you all understand the rules as I’ve presented them to you? Raise your hands.” Again, every hand in the room shot upward. She nodded to Nikki, who unlocked the front door and waited till everyone was out of the room before she closed and locked the door and lowered the blind over the door.

“Show time, Dr. Mattison!” Myra said, a lilt in her voice. “Take us to your office, please.”

“What gives you the right to invade this office?”

“This is what gives us the right,” Nikki said, shoving the gold shield up against the doctor’s face. “The lady told you to move, so move, or I will move you myself.”

Mattison was a tall man, probably in his mid-fifties, with a full head of iron-gray hair, blue eyes that owed their color to contact lenses, tanned, and sculpted. He’d had some kind of facial surgery to tighten up his features, Myra thought. He was wearing a spotless, crisp, white lab coat with a stethoscope hanging out of one of the pockets. He wasn’t exactly eye candy, but he was easy on the eyes. And he did look every inch like the professional doctor he was.

“Whatever this is all about, I would like to have my lawyer present, if you don’t mind. I have some very influential friends in this town, and I resent this invasion. You have no right to do this, and I don’t care what those things around your necks say.”

“Unfortunately, Doctor, what they say is we’re in control, and you aren’t. There’s no one here but you and us. No lawyer. As to all those influential friends in this town, how’s that working for you, Doc?” Nikki asked. “Oh, feel free to vent, resent, whatever you want. Now, this is what we want from you. A list of each time you treated Amalie Laurent Moss. By that I mean those secretive house calls you made to Glenwood Drive when Lincoln Moss called you. Shame on you, you didn’t report even one of those visits.”

Mattison’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really! Well maybe this will refresh your memory.” Annie slapped down a sheaf of papers, printouts, thanks to Abner, of Lincoln Moss’s canceled checks, the dates, and the doctor’s personal bank-account statements.

“Where did you get these? That is personal, private, and privileged information. I want a lawyer.”