Hush

22

HE’S AFTER ME. The thought exploded in her mind before she’d even fully processed Jack’s presence. He’d arranged the bungled attack on her tonight, just as he was behind what had happened to Smokey and the bag of catnip. And since Jack knew she’d probably turn to Molly for help tonight, he’d come looking for her here.

But as Lake slunk down in her seat, some other part of her brain kicked those thoughts away. Jack had a sweater tied nattily around his shoulders, and the expression on his face was smug and expectant. No, he wasn’t searching for her. That was the look of a man who had plans for the evening. Jack was here to see Molly.

Her stomach churned at the idea. She hoisted herself up just enough to peer over the steering wheel. Jack was now in the foyer, and the doorman was speaking into the phone. He hung up and nodded to Jack with a smile that suggested familiarity. Then Jack strode past him and into the building.

Lake’s mind raced. How long had this been going on? Was Molly the reason for the breakup of her marriage? The thought of the two of them together, making love, sickened her. At the same time she felt that bizarre rush that comes with clarity. This explained Jack’s prison-break departure from her life. It also explained Molly’s endless questions about the divorce and about whether Jack was interested in reconciling-questions that had begun to go beyond a friend’s concern. Obviously Molly had continued their friendship in order to keep tabs, to learn details about the divorce that Jack might not be sharing. How evil, Lake thought.

But the affair might be just the tip of the iceberg. She wondered if Molly and Jack were plotting together to get the kids. Molly’s former marriage had been childless and she had admitted wistfully to Lake on several occasions that she regretted not having children. Now, with Jack’s help, she could have her own instant family.

Thank God, Lake had never confessed to Molly what had happened with Keaton. It would all be over for her then. Quickly she ran through what she had discussed with Molly-that she thought Jack might be snooping, that she had engaged in minor flirting with someone at work, that she’d been interviewed by the police along with the other clinic staff. Nothing that could incriminate her.

She needed to get out of here. More than likely Molly and Jack were “in” for the night, but what if they decided to head out for a late drink or supper? She fired up the engine, and after driving several blocks, double-parked on a side street so she could plan her next move. Since she’d avoided her closest friends following her split with Jack, there was no way she could phone them now, out of the blue. She glanced down at the screen of her BlackBerry. Archer’s email stared back at her. It seemed crazy to call him, but it was the only thing that made sense now. At the very least he’d be interested in what had happened to her tonight and what it possibly revealed about the clinic.

He answered on the third ring. In the background she could hear the drone of a TV so she assumed he must be home.

“I hope I’m not calling too late,” Lake said. “It’s Lake Warren.”

“Oh, hey. I was going to touch base tomorrow. What’s up?”

“I was attacked tonight. And I think it had to do with the clinic. I-I was just hoping I could talk to you. To be honest, I’m scared out of my mind.”

“Are you hurt?” he asked, sounding alarmed. “Have you seen a doctor?”

“I’m okay. Just shaken. And I ended up in the East River, so I’m sopping wet.”

“The river? My God. Where are you?”

“I’m in my car-in Chelsea. I don’t really know what to do.”

“I’m in the Village on Jane Street, so I’m not far. Will you be able to drive down here? Or should I come and get you?”

She could feel the relief wash over her. He was going to help her.

“No, I’ll be okay driving down there.”

He suggested a garage near his building, since street parking was next to impossible in his neighborhood.

“Why don’t you call me when you get to the garage and I’ll come meet you,” he added.

“That’s not necessary,” she said. “Just give me your address and I’ll see you in a few minutes. And…thank you.”

To her surprise he was waiting in the garage when she arrived, dressed in khakis and a rumpled blue-and-white striped dress shirt. As soon as she stepped out of the car, he shook his head in distress at the sight of her.

“I’m just half a block up the street,” he said. He put his arm lightly on her back and guided her along the sidewalk. The street was dark, the streetlamps partly obscured by rows of leafy plane trees, and the whole way there she could sense how alert he was, cocking his head back and forth as he checked around them. He had his keys out before they were even at his brownstone. After letting her into his ground-floor apartment, he glanced up and down the street before he shut the door.

“So tell me what happened,” he said as soon as he’d ushered her into his living room. It was a large, comfortable space with a big red sofa and books and newspapers strewn all over its surfaces.

“A man attacked me in one of the river parks in Dumbo,” Lake said. “He knocked me down and then he pulled out a knife. I know it sounds crazy, but the only way I could escape was to jump in the river. I swam over to an area beneath a park and hid there until I was pretty sure he was gone.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes-but it was pretty hairy for a while,” she said, her voice catching. “I’m a good swimmer but I don’t know how long I could have lasted out there. I was afraid I’d get tired and the tide would sweep me away.”

Then without warning, she began to cry. Her shoulders shook, and she let out a weird strangled sound. It was partly from relief, she knew-and partly from despair, because though she’d escaped, she wasn’t safe at all.

“Hey,” Archer said gently and put his arm around her, pulling her toward him. Her right cheek pressed against his soft rumpled shirt. “Everything’s okay now.”

“I don’t think so,” Lake said, brushing her tears away. “I think someone from the clinic is after me. They want to shut me up.”

“Tell me why you think that,” he said.

“Look,” she said, “I hope you won’t be mad, but I tracked down Alexis Hunt myself. I wanted to find out what she thought was happening there. I figured if I was going to wade through the files, it would help to know what I was looking for.”

“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word. He’d turned his head and was looking at her sideways, his eyes skeptical.

“What she told me was pretty staggering,” Lake said. “She’s convinced that the clinic transferred her embryos to someone else-a woman named Melanie Turnbull. Sometimes couples give permission for this but Alexis definitely didn’t. She says it resulted in this woman having a baby-and that she probably didn’t realize it was from a donor embryo. Needless to say, Alexis is beside herself.”

Archer opened his mouth in surprise.

“Wow, there was a case like that years ago in California. But could this have been a mistake? Embryos accidentally switched in the lab?”

“No, it all just seems too suspicious. The clinic likes to boast about how successful they are with older women. I think they’re doing this to improve their numbers with women over forty. Plus, there are two instances I know of-Alexis is one-where the patient has fewer frozen embryos than she thought.”

Archer placed a hand on his cheek and let out a long breath.

“I clearly hit a nerve with them,” Lake continued. “The reason I was in Brooklyn was that I tracked Melanie Turnbull down, too. At first she didn’t want anything to do with me, but then she agreed to meet me in a restaurant in her neighborhood. I waited an hour and she never showed. As I was walking back to my car, this man started following me-and then chasing me. And guess what else? He was also in the bar at the Waldorf the night I met you. He must have followed me there, too.”

“So you think this woman reported back to the clinic that you’d called her and they arranged for this guy to try to kill you-a guy they’d already hired to keep you in his sights?”

“Yes, it seems that way. Levin obviously had him start watching me after he discovered I was getting snoopy. Then the assignment escalated.” Suddenly she felt her whole body sag from exhaustion. “There’s so much I’ve got to tell you. But I’d love to wash up first. After being in that river, I’m worried I’m on the verge of coming down with cholera.” She managed a smile.

“Of course. How about a shower? I think that would be better than just washing up.”

“Yes, great,” she said.

“Come on, then. The main bathroom’s upstairs.” As he started to get up, he caught himself. “Wait, what about the police. What have you told them so far?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly.

“Nothing? What do you mean?”

“I haven’t called them. Not yet.”

“But you need to.”

“Th-there’s a reason I haven’t. I can explain later, okay?”

He eyed her curiously.

“All right,” was all he said. He led her back out into the hallway and up a set of stairs to his bedroom.

“Give me a second to find you a clean towel,” he said.

As he rustled through a linen closet in the hallway, her eyes scanned the room. Though the space, with its big oak bed and bedside table stacked with books, bore no resemblance to Keaton’s sleek, spare room, she felt momentarily unsettled. The last time she had been in a strange man’s bedroom, he’d been brutally murdered. And her world had fallen apart.

Archer returned to the room and pointed to the attached bathroom. He said he’d meet her downstairs when she was done.

“Tea or brandy?” he asked before he closed the bedroom door behind him.

“I could use both, if you don’t mind,” she said, smiling.

Within a minute she was in the shower, with the water as hot as she could stand. She felt off kilter being naked in a strange bathroom, and yet it was good to get the river stench off her. As she shampooed her hair, her eyes ran along the sides of the tub. There was nothing to suggest that a woman currently spent time on Archer’s premises. Suddenly her thoughts rushed back to Jack and Molly. She’d been so preoccupied talking to Archer that she’d lost track of that part of the night’s horror show. All those months she’d obsessed over what had happened to her marriage and why she’d been abandoned. Had the answer been literally right in front of her?

When she emerged from the steamy bathroom fifteen minutes later, she discovered a sundress lying across the bed. So, she thought, there is someone in his life and he’s loaning me her clothes. She slipped the sundress over her head, put her sneakers back on, and carried her wet skirt and underwear downstairs in a bundle. Archer was reading in an armchair. On the coffee table was a tray with a pot of tea, an empty mug, and a glass of brandy.

“Better?” he asked, looking up.

“Yes, much. I can’t believe how I’ve imposed on you-without even knowing you. Thanks for the dress, by the way.”

“One of my stepson’s girlfriends left it here-I believe she’s gone off to Finland, so I’m sure it won’t be missed.”

Tucking her wet hair behind her ears, she settled onto the couch.

“I hope you’re not an Earl Grey kind of girl,” Archer said, raising his chin in the direction of the teapot. “All I had was English Breakfast.”

“That’s perfect,” she said, pouring.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Archer said. “I want to hear everything.”

He wasn’t going to let her just sit there and decompress. He was a reporter, after all. But she’d known that when she came here.

She started with her call to Alexis and then took him through everything else, including her presentation and the way Levin had shut her down.

“I was being dismissed, obviously,” Lake said. “And this whole meeting with Melanie-it was clearly a setup, a way to lure me over to some dark street in Brooklyn.”

“Are you sure? What if she had good intentions but simply got cold feet? I even wonder if something might have happened to her.”

Lake hadn’t considered that. But after a moment she shook her head.

“It’s possible, I suppose, but I don’t think so. Though someone could have followed me to the Waldorf, I’m almost sure no one followed me to Brooklyn tonight. I remember that when I parked on the street, there weren’t any cars behind me. Melanie must have alerted someone at the clinic when she’d heard from me and they told her to set up the meeting. Though I doubt she knew they planned to kill me.”

Archer tapped his fist lightly against his lips, a gesture she’d seen him use before.

“But what in hell do they think you’ve got on them?” he asked. “All you actually know is what Alexis told you, and there’s probably nothing the police could do with that info anyway.”

Lake massaged her damp head as her mind tossed everything around. What could they think she knew? Did it go back to Keaton? Was Levin aware she’d been with him that night and assumed he’d told her why he was pulling out of his deal with the clinic?

“Speaking of the police,” Archer said, tugging her from her thoughts, “tell me why you haven’t called them.”

She took a long, slow breath. She needed an explanation that Archer would buy-one that wouldn’t arouse his suspicions.

“The night Mark Keaton was killed a group of us had dinner with him,” she said. “The police came on strong during the interview with me the next day. Keaton had a reputation as a player and they may have wondered if I’d been having an affair with him-and then murdered him. I just don’t want to direct their attention toward me. I’m in a bad custody battle and my ex is clearly looking for anything he can use against me.”

Archer didn’t say a word, just stared at her. Though his face was expressionless, she could see the question in his eyes: Did she have an affair with Keaton? The next question would be: Did she murder him? She took a sip of tea to break the eye contact.

“But if you don’t involve the police,” he said after a minute, “this guy won’t be apprehended. And he may try to hurt you again. Look what happened to Keaton-this all might be connected.”

“I know he may try again-and it’s terrifying,” Lake said. “But I honestly don’t think telling the police will help. It’s not like this guy left his fingerprints in the park. They’d never be able to trace him.”

“But someone down there may have seen him getting into a car.”

She had to get Archer off the police angle.

“Maybe,” she said evenly. “But if these two homicide detectives find out I was chased into the East River, they’re going to suspect something funny is going on with me. Remember what you said about coincidences? Even if I tell the cops I suspect the clinic of arranging the attack, it still puts too much focus on me.”

“But what they might actually do is investigate the clinic. They could end up arresting people-including this thug from tonight.”

Lake shook her head. “But as you said before, there’s no way the cops can just walk into the clinic and investigate. They need proof, and there isn’t any. All we have is Alexis’s word, and, as your producer pointed out, she has a tendency to come off as a nut job.”

“Okay, let’s talk about proof, then,” he said, leaning back into his armchair. “You never found anything in the files?”

She could feel her whole body unclench now that he’d stopped pressing her about the cops.

“Nothing that indicated what they’re up to,” she said. “But when I looked at Melanie’s file tonight, there was a funny little notation-something I’d also seen in another patient’s file.”

From her purse Lake pulled out the scrap of paper on which she’d jotted down the letters. She handed it to Archer, explaining that she’d seen them next to the names on the information sheet.

“Any idea what they mean?” he asked.

“Not a clue.”

“Could they refer to the specific infertility problem Melanie had-or the treatment the doctors prescribed?” Archer asked.

“I’m not an expert, but I know a fair amount of the terminology now, and those letters don’t correspond to anything I’ve heard of. I’m wondering if they’re a code that indicates Alexis’s embryos were transferred to Melanie. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to look at Alexis’s file again. Brie, the office manager, caught me going through the files the first time, and I didn’t want to take another chance.”

“She saw you going through the files?” Archer said. He straightened up in his chair. It seemed some bell had gone off in his head.

“Yes. I made up an excuse, but I don’t think she bought it.”

“Couldn’t that explain why you were attacked tonight?” Archer said, his blue eyes flashing. “You may not have any real evidence, but they think you do.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she said hesitantly. “I’ve just assumed the attack was connected with Melanie.”

Archer stared at the letters again.

“Can you make another attempt to see Alexis’s file?” he asked. “If the letters match what’s in Melanie’s file, we could have something to go on.”

The idea made her shudder. She shook her head. “After tonight, I don’t know if I’d have the nerve.”

Archer raked both hands through his thick white hair.

“There’s just so much at stake,” he said.

“Even if I wasn’t terrified,” Lake told him, “I’m not sure I’d be welcome back in the clinic. Levin acted so weird tonight.”

“We’ve got to find a way to expose them. What if Alexis Hunt is really right? And if she’s right, she’s probably not the only victim.”

Lake took another swig of tea. As she digested his words, she realized that it was the first time she’d really thought about the bigger picture. She’d been so consumed with her own cause, trying to save her skin, and her right to keep her kids, that she hadn’t focused on how many other lives were being manipulated. What if it were I, she suddenly thought? What if I discovered that another woman had borne my child and was raising him?

“I’ve got an idea,” Lake said. “There’s a young nurse there who seems like a really good person. Her name’s Maggie. I could try to convince her to look at the Hunt file for me.”

“Do you think you can trust her?”

“Yes,” Lake said. “If I can manage to contact her.”

Lake set down her mug and reached for the brandy. As soon as she tasted it, she felt transported back to Keaton’s apartment. She recalled the first sip of brandy she’d taken there, the hint of it later on Keaton’s mouth-and then the sight of him dead in his bed. She choked as she swallowed and set the glass quickly back down.

“Are you okay?” Archer asked.

“Yes,” Lake said feebly. “I’m just spent.”

“I don’t blame you.” He glanced at his watch. “God, it’s after one. Look, why don’t I make the couch up for you. You can stay here tonight, and in the morning we’ll figure out some kind of plan.”

She didn’t protest. As insane as it would be to bunk down at his place, she knew she’d at least be safe for tonight.

While Archer went upstairs for sheets and a blanket, she stacked the kilim throw pillows on the floor. He returned not only with the bedding but also with a long T-shirt for her to sleep in. She offered to help make up the couch, but he insisted on doing it alone. Was he really this good a guy? she wondered as she watched him. Or was it all because of the story she was bringing him?

“You’re all set now,” he said, shaking out the blanket.

“Thanks so much for this,” she said. She offered the warmest smile she could muster. Then his eyes narrowed in concern.

“What?” she asked. Something was clearly the matter.

“There’s a bruise on your face. Is it from tonight?”

Her hand swooped to her cheek like a falcon. After the shower she’d neglected to put on any makeup and he was seeing the shadow of her birthmark.

“Oh,” she said, flustered. “I had a birthmark there once.”

“Ah. Well, it only adds to your fascination factor.” He smiled. “Good night. Try to get a good night’s sleep.”

Minutes later, she was lying in pitch-darkness, the sheets cool against her body. For a while she could hear Archer moving around upstairs, getting ready for bed, and then it was quiet-the only remaining sound the light hum from the central air conditioning.

She hoped she’d be able to sleep. Her whole body ached-from the spill she’d taken on the rocks, from gripping on to the bastion for so long-and yet at the same time she felt totally wired. Memories of being in the river began to rush her mind. They made her panicky all over again, and she shook her head on the pillow, forcing them away. I can’t relive that, not right now, she thought. And then she felt a surge of something else, something that caught her by surprise. Satisfaction. She had saved herself tonight. A man had attacked her, intent, she was fairly certain, on killing her, and she had outwitted him. She knew she had to hold on to that victory like a talisman. She needed the courage to continue to outwit whoever was after her.

Tomorrow she would connect with Maggie. She’d ask her to check the Hunt information sheet for a series of letters, written in pencil. It wouldn’t be easy, but Lake had to convince Maggie and make her see the need to help her.

Finally, she closed her eyes, exhausted. She fell asleep and began to dream-about Amy. She and her daughter were walking by a body of water in a place she didn’t recognize. And then someone was trying to take Amy away, saying she wasn’t Lake’s child after all. But she looks just like me, Lake screamed, terrified of losing her.

Suddenly she was jerked awake, as if she were stumbling off a curb. A thought grew quickly in her mind, like a sponge dipped in water.

She knew what the letters meant.