"And?"

"And I talked to her," Boyd said. "I'm not entirely sure of anything
myself. But ... well, hell. You take a look at her."

He pulled the car up to a parking space, slid nonchalantly into a slot
marked _Reserved--Executive Director Sutton_, and slid out from under
the wheel while Malone got out the other side.

* * * * *

They marched up the broad steps, through the doorway and into the
glass-fronted office of the receptionist.

Boyd showed her his little golden badge, and got an appropriate gasp.
"FBI," he said. "Dr. Harman's expecting us."

The wait wasn't over fifteen seconds. Boyd and Malone marched down the
hall and around a couple of corners, and came to the doctor's office.
The door was opaqued glass with nothing but a room number stenciled on
it. Without ceremony, Boyd pushed the door open. Malone followed him
inside.

The office was small but sunny. Dr. Willard Harman sat behind a
blond-wood desk, a chunky little man with crew-cut blond hair and
rimless eyeglasses, who looked about thirty-two and couldn't possibly,
Malone thought, have been anywhere near that young. On a second look,
Malone noticed a better age indication in the eyes and forehead, and
revised his first guess upward between ten and fifteen years.

"Come in, gentlemen," Dr. Harman boomed. His voice was that rarity, a
really loud high tenor.

"Dr. Harman," Boyd said, "this is my superior, Mr. Malone. We'd like to
have a talk with Miss Thompson."

"I anticipated that, sir," Dr. Harman said. "Miss Thompson is in the
next room. Have you explained to Mr. Malone that--"

"I haven't explained a thing," Boyd said quickly, and added in what was
obviously intended to be a casual tone: "Mr. Malone wants to get a
picture of Miss Thompson directly--without any preconceptions."

"I see," Dr. Harman said. "Very well, gentlemen. Through this door."

He opened the door in the right-hand wall of the room, and Malone took
one look. It was a long, long look. Standing framed in the doorway,
dressed in the starched white of a nurse's uniform, was the most
beautiful blonde he had ever seen.

She had curves. She definitely had curves. As a matter of fact, Malone
didn't really think he had ever seen curves before. These were something
new and different and truly three-dimensional. But it wasn't the curves,
or the long straight lines of her legs, or the quiet beauty of her face,
that made her so special. After all,