“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Ree…Hutchins.” She hoped he hadn’t noticed her nervous hesitation. She drew a breath, trying to regain her composure. “One of the nurses asked me to leave this on your assistant’s desk.” She held up the package.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“I just got here. I’m sorry to bother you. I thought you’d already left for the evening.”

He took in her scrubs. “You’re an employee of this hospital, I gather?” His subsiding fury was replaced by a kind of cold calculation that made Ree even more nervous.

“I’m a volunteer. I’m also in one of your classes at Emerson.”

“So that’s where I’ve seen you.” As he slowly came into the room, Ree fought the urge to retreat. Why had she never noticed before the almost serpentine grace of his walk?

“Your lecture last week on human emotion and cognition was…it was brilliant,” she stammered.

“I’ll assume you weren’t the one snoring from the back row then.”

Was that amusement she heard in his voice? At one time, Ree would have been charmed by his self-effacement, but now she had to suppress a shudder.

She drew another quick breath and smiled. “Never. I always look forward to your class.”

“How long have you volunteered here?” he asked. “And why have I not seen you around before tonight?”

“I’ve only been here two months and I’m assigned mostly to the south wing.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but Ree thought his attention quickened. His appraisal, however, remained subtle. “Then you must know one of my favorite patients. Violet Tisdale.”

Not her imagination, Ree decided. Mentioning Miss Violet out of all the patients in the south wing couldn’t be a coincidence. Which meant he must suspect she’d overheard at least a portion of that incriminating argument. Now he was testing her, observing her response to the name.