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Another wave of fear washed over her as she stepped out, and it took all her courage just to walk to the smaller reception area, where a man in his twenties gave her a cool nod and asked for her name. There was no one else in the waiting room, so she stood by the desk until he found her name on the computer screen and then tapped a few keys. "Someone will be right with you," he said.

She stepped back, not sure if she wanted to take a seat or not, so she just rocked back and forth and resisted the urge to bite her fingernails.

A moment later, a door opened, and a woman in a fitted black skirt and black blazer took her down a hall to Dr. Levitan's office. She opened the door and waved her inside, closing the door behind her.

She'd seen photos of Neil Levitan online, so she already knew he was a good-looking man in his late forties with black hair and olive skin. Neil was divorced from his wife, Jasmine, who currently lived in Dubai. He was exceptionally well-educated and had published in prestigious medical journals. He was one of the top experts in the field of combat-related PTSD, blast-induced neurotrauma, and brain injuries. If she didn't suspect that he was involved in over-medicating veterans to extract classified information from their memories, she might have been more impressed.

"Dr. Thorne," he said, as he stepped from behind his desk and buttoned his suit coat before shaking her hand. "I was surprised to see your name on my schedule."

"You recognized my name?"

"Yes. Several of my patients have mentioned you. They said your office was helpful in referring them to Waverly when their treatment options ran out."

She wondered if that was really what he believed had happened, but either way, his words gave her an easy transition into her cover story.

"I've also heard from a couple of them that they received excellent care here," she said. "I thought it was time we met."

"Please sit down. What can I help you with?"

She took a seat on the chair in front of him, wondering how she was going to get the damn bug out of her pants pocket without him noticing. Then she suddenly realized she had a small shield. She set her clutch bag on the desk in front of her, which gave her more cover. "I wanted to talk to you about a possible job," she said.

Surprise moved through his eyes. "I didn't expect you to say that."

"My patients have been frustrated with the care they've received at East River, and some of the problems I have in delivering the best care are due to my lack of resources. That doesn't seem to be as big of an issue here. I really want to help my patients. I hate when I can't." Her voice came out stronger and more honest now as she was speaking nothing but the truth. "But when they tell me how disheartened they are by their lack of progress, I don't have many options to offer them, and I understand why they look elsewhere. I was wondering if you might have any need for another physician here. If so, I can give you more information about myself. If you're fully staffed, I completely understand."

"That's interesting." He gave her a thoughtful look. "I know you have a lot of experience working with veterans. I'd like to speak to you again. Unfortunately, I don't have time now for a longer conversation."

"Of course," she said, realizing she needed to keep him talking at least a little longer as she had gotten nothing out of him. Nor had she had an opportunity to plant the bug. "If you have just another moment or two, I'd really like to know more about your work here. Are you using a combination of medications along with psychotherapy, hypnosis? Are you conducting sleep studies?"

"Yes. All that and more. We focus on every aspect of the patient's life, not just their most pronounced symptoms. As you know, many of the physical conditions have a mind-body connection, so we treat the whole patient. We're very thorough in our intake interviews. We are not one hundred percent successful, but we've had excellent results with our program."

"I'm a big believer in the mind-body connection."

He nodded approvingly. "I like doctors with an open mind."

"So do I. I get annoyed with those who feel bound by protocol and the traditional treatments of the past," she said, realizing she was actually describing herself. Or at least the doctor she had once been.

His phone rang, and he said, "Excuse me for one moment." He picked up the phone, listened for a moment, then turned away from her as he said, "Jasmine, I need you to talk to them. It's important. They need to understand what's at stake."

As he focused on his conversation, she slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the disk. Unfortunately, his call didn't last long. "You owe me this, Jasmine," he said with anger in his voice. "Goodbye."

He turned back to her and said, "I'm sorry."

"I hope everything is all right," she said, wondering why his ex-wife was calling him and what she owed him.

"Relationships are complicated," he said cryptically, anger still lingering in his eyes. "I have to see a patient. Why don't you stop at the desk on your way out? Keith will set up another time for us to talk. We can go over your qualifications and see if we might have a place for you."

"That would be great."

She stood up and reached across the desk to shake his hand once more. As she pulled back, she deliberately knocked her bag on the floor. When she leaned over to pick it up, she slapped the disk on the underside of his desk, where it thankfully stuck. Then she straightened and gave him a smile before heading out the door.

She was actually happy when he followed her out and didn't immediately stop to look at his desk. Hopefully, that meant he hadn't noticed what she'd done.

As they stepped into the hall, he waved his hand toward the sign for the lobby. "You can go that way."

"Thanks." She licked her lips. "I do have one more question."

"What's that?"