Mills ran into an "acquaintance" downstairs from Antony's studio.
It wasn't that they knew each other; he had simply seen her frequently in the media lately. Though she was in disguise, he still recognized her.
When Reagan was young, he had been a minor actor in Hollywood. During that time, he had spent the night with more than fifty Hollywood actresses, including Marilyn Monroe, Joan Blondell, and Lana Turner.
But that had been before he was elected president. The woman before him, meanwhile, had been at the center of a scandal involving a member of Parliament. Both parties denied it, even claiming it was fabricated fake news invented by the media.
Mills watched her retreating back, then looked up at the windows of Antony's office, as though he understood something.
Without saying a word, he took the elevator up. After greeting Antony's personal assistant, he entered the consultation room. The strong scent of perfume still hung in the air—the very same fragrance the actress downstairs had been wearing.
"How did you sleep last night, Doctor?" Mills took out another piece of nicotine gum and tossed it into his mouth.
"Not bad," Antony said as he sorted through the files.
"You didn't stay up late?"
"Why would I stay up late?"
"You know, Angela Warren's body..."
"I didn't dissect her." Antony said it as calmly as if he were commenting on the fine weather. "I buried the other girl."
"What?" Mills' eyes widened in shock.
"I took some DNA samples and sent them to a private laboratory for testing, but I didn't dissect her." Antony looked up at Mills. "I gave her a full-body CT scan. Times have advanced. I don't need to be like doctors in the Middle Ages."
"All right, then. What did you find?"
"Overall, she wasn't much