‘Can we do this here in my office?’ Jackson asked the nurse. ‘We don’t need an audience.’ ‘No, problem,’ she answered. ‘Give me a minu...e to set up.’ Connie Martin was a plain woman. She was in between tall and short, in her late thirties—neither old nor youthful. She wore a black suit that negated any features of her body. She had shoulder-length, straight, black hair and olive skin. Her hair was held in place by barrettes and swept back from a face that bore no traces of makeup. Her glasses. "Richard", she gushed, "I am so glad that you're here." Sorry to be late," he answered. "It was hard for me to find your place. I don't come this way often." That's alright. Come in!" They stepped together into the main part of the house.Richard glanced to the right end of the house and saw the fireplace crackling."I was just admiring your house from the outside before I came in." I know," she replied, "I saw you."The answer was full of mystery. If she had seen him, why had she delayed in. More

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