Newhouse nodded. He was sensing there was something wrong with the conversation, but he didn’t know what it was or when it had started. Jack’s attitude had suddenly changed from being impressed to being strangely challenging.

“Where exactly were her subluxations?” Jack questioned.

“All up and down her spine,” Newhouse said, with a new edge to his voice. He didn’t like being challenged, especially on his own territory. “Her spine was a mess from ignoring it for so long. She’d never been to a chiropractor.”

“How about her cervical spine? Was that a mess?”

“The whole spine, including the cervical area.”

“So, you thought she was in need of an adjustment.”

“Many adjustments,” Newhouse corrected Jack. “We discussed a treatment schedule. I’ll be seeing her again twice this week and for four subsequent weeks. Then once a week for four weeks.”

“And if I remember correctly, an adjustment is another word for spinal manipulation. Is that correct?”

Newhouse made a show of looking at his watch. “I’m afraid it is getting late. I do have a few patients I must see. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’d like you to give me the courtesy of answering my question,” Jack said, standing his ground.

A wry smile crept across Newhouse’s face. He suddenly decided this uninvited visitor was a possible troublemaker and ought to be thrown out on his ass. Yet an inkling of concern that Jack might be some sort of city inspector instead of an oddball made him hesitate. Jack had, Newhouse thought, an authoritative air, an unexpected inquisitiveness, and a bold confidence that gave weight to his possibly being an official. And even though Newhouse’s office had never previously been inspected, he thought there always could be the first time, which could be a disaster. He knew for a fact that his X-ray room was not properly shielded in the ceiling. With all that in mind, he asked, “What was your question again?”

“I want to know if Keara Abelard had a manipulation of her cervical spine.”

“Generally, we don’t divulge confidential information about our patients,” Newhouse said defensively.

“Do you keep records of what you do to patients?”

“Of course we keep records! We need to document the course of improvement. What kind of question is that?”

“I can subpoena your records, so you might as well just tell me.”

“You can’t subpoena my records,” Newhouse declared, although without much confidence. He was now more worried Jack was not quite what he’d assumed: a prospective new patient with the thought of making an appointment.

“You said Keara Abelard’s headache went away after your treatment. Did you know it came back?”

“No, I didn’t know. She didn’t call me. If she had, I would have seen her immediately.”

“The headache came back with a vengeance,” Jack snapped. “And I need to know if you adjusted her cervical spine.”