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facility, of which you are the owner.”
    “I’m assuming Mr. MacCandliss there is responsible for the complaints.”
    “The forms are all in order,” Fielding said, pointedly ignoring the statement.
    Behind him, MacCandliss was the very essence of smug.
    “You know, we’re very busy,” Nick said, gesturing to the three men in the dining area, and out the window toward the bus stop.
    Through the unremitting rain, he could see Junie approaching the shelter, carrying a large plastic bag and two ten-cup cartons of coffee. No surprise. Even if the staff at Dunkin’ was resistant, which they had never been in the past, they were outmatched.
    “To begin with,” Fielding said, “I’d like to do a walk-through and conduct an inspection of the way you are handling issues of cleanliness, as well as your equipment and pharmaceuticals. I am especially interested in assurance that the needles and syringes are properly locked.”
    “There’s really only room for one of you,” Nick said. “I’d appreciate it if Mr. MacCandliss stayed where he is, or better still, waited outside with the others.”
    Over the next few minutes, Fielding made his way down his checklist, without finding anything major amiss. He did suggest that the isopropyl alcohol swabs be kept locked with the syringes and needles, and that the file drawers holding the patient records be doubly protected against both theft and fire. Right from the beginning Nick could tell he was reaching.
    Bless you, Junie
, he thought, reflecting on the thoroughness with which she insisted they prepare the RV.
    Fielding was certifying that the sharps disposal units and the trash receptacles were to code when the front door swung open. A thin, unshaven white man in a sodden peacoat entered and squeezed past MacCandliss, who took a decent soaking and looked as if being closer than a city block away from the fellow was too close. The man, whom Nick recognized from other visits, headed unsteadily toward the aft examining room. He was followed closely by Junie, who made enough eye contact with Nick to say several things at once, the most important of which was that she was worried about this latest patient.
    Nick felt the same way. The man, who Nick recalled was named Campbell, looked sick. His eyes were dark hollows and he had an odd tick at the corner of his mouth. Nick watched as Junie followed Campbell to the examining room. Then she turned at the last second and glanced back.
    Don’t wait long
, she silently urged.
    Nick ushered Fielding back to where MacCandliss was waiting.
    “Okay, guys, looks like I’ve got some doctoring to do. Feel free to wait… or not. Mr. Fielding, I can save you some trouble by telling you that we read the HIPAA manual as a bedtime story and that our board of directors makes surprise inspections of the RV all the time. Tell whoever filed complaints against us that they’re wasting their time and yours. I’ll be back when I’m sure this man is okay.”
    Without waiting for a response, Nick headed to the examining room. Campbell, who smelled like the streets, was still standing, shifting from one foot to the other. Had there been much more room, he certainly would have been pacing. His eyes, pupils wide, were darting from one side of the space to the other.
    “Mike,” Junie said, “sit down and let me get your coat off. I need to check your blood pressure. Nick, this is Mike Campbell.”
    “We’ve met. When was it, Mike, a year ago?”
    “I don’t know,” Campbell mumbled.
    It was an overdose of some kind. Nick felt almost sure of it.
    “Mike, we want to help you. Give us a chance to help you. We’re on your side. Have a seat up here.”
    Hesitantly, Campbell pushed onto the edge of the examining table. Junie was just beginning to help him off with his coat when Nick saw the wet stain six inches below his armpit.
    “Glove,” he said simply, to the nurse.
    Without asking for an explanation, Junie slipped on a pair of latex gloves.