“Of course I’m implying your treatment killed her,” Jack yelled. “And do you know how you did it? Your thrust, as you call it, tore the delicate lining of her vertebral arteries, which in turn caused bilateral vertebral artery dissections and ultimately blockage. I trust you know what the vertebral arteries are?”

“Of course I know what they are,” Newhouse shouted back. “Now get out of my office. You can’t prove I did anything wrong, because I didn’t. And I cannot imagine it’s okay for you to be accusing me like this. You have some nerve coming in here under false pretenses. You are going to hear from my lawyer. I can promise you that.”

“And you’ll be hearing from the DA,” Jack yelled. “I’m going to sign the death certificate as homicide. ‘Innate intelligence,’ my ass! That’s the screwiest nonsense I’ve heard in my life. You mentioned you ‘straight’ chiropractors call your colleagues mixers or traitors who restrict their work to back problems exclusively. What do the mixers call you guys, quacks?”

“Get out!” Newhouse roared, his face threateningly close to Jack’s.

It was as if a lightbulb went off in Jack’s head. He suddenly realized he was within inches of an enraged man, nearly to the point of fisticuffs. What was he doing? What was he thinking?

Jack backed up a step. He wasn’t necessarily afraid—Newhouse didn’t look especially fit—but Jack didn’t want to make a bad situation worse. What he wanted to do was get the hell out of there.

“Now that we see eye to eye, I think I’ll be going,” Jack said, reverting to sarcasm. “Don’t bother to see me to the door,” he added, holding up his hand as if waving Newhouse off. “I’ll see myself out.”

Jack made a beeline out of the inner office. Lydia and several patients had heard at least part of Jack and Newhouse’s shouting match. All were sitting tensely, ready to bolt for safety’s sake. Their mouths were slightly open, eyes unblinking, as they watched Jack transit reception. Jack’s last gesture was to wave ’bye at Lydia before ducking through the office’s outer door.

Outside Jack went straight to his bike, fumbling with the multiple locks while glancing nervously over his shoulder. He was astonished at his behavior, marveling at how out of control he’d become with Newhouse. Of course, now that he was thinking rationally, he recognized it all went back to JJ, emphasizing how important it was for him to get a grip on that situation. It also emphasized the importance of his crusade to help in that regard, but he needed to be thinking of the forest, not the trees. He had to focus on alternative medicine in general, not just chiropractic nor Newhouse because of an emotional response to Keara Abelard’s tragedy.

Once his bike was free, Jack jumped on and sped away, heading south. Reaching speed he began to worry about the potential repercussions of his ill-considered site visit. If Bingham or Calvin got word of his latest shenanigans, it could very well cause a premature end to his nascent crusade. It might even be serious enough to get him put on administrative leave. From Jack’s perspective either outcome would be a serious problem.