Hush_ A Novel Part 23

"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 s.p.a.ce, 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 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 gla.s.s of brandy. 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 gla.s.s 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 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 h.e.l.l 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 ma.s.saged her damp head as her mind tossed everything around. What could could they think she knew? Did it go back to Keaton? Was Levin aware she'd been with him that night and a.s.sumed he'd told her why he was pulling out of his deal with the clinic? they think she knew? Did it go back to Keaton? Was Levin aware she'd been with him that night and a.s.sumed 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 Did she have an affair with Keaton? The next question would be: Did she have an affair with Keaton? The next question would be: Did she she murder him? She took a sip of tea to break the eye contact. 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 sc.r.a.p 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 that explain why you were attacked tonight?" Archer said, his blue eyes flas.h.i.+ng. "You may not have any real evidence, but they explain why you were attacked tonight?" Archer said, his blue eyes flas.h.i.+ng. "You may not have any real evidence, but they think think you do." you do."

"Maybe you're right," she said hesitantly. "I've just a.s.sumed 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 gla.s.s 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. "G.o.d, 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-s.h.i.+rt 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, fl.u.s.tered. "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.

23.

SHE WOKE THE next morning to m.u.f.fled kitchen sounds-running water, a pan sc.r.a.ping against a stovetop burner. In her foggy state she thought she was hearing Will in the kitchen, using the stove when he shouldn't. But then she remembered where she was-and what had happened. next morning to m.u.f.fled kitchen sounds-running water, a pan sc.r.a.ping against a stovetop burner. In her foggy state she thought she was hearing Will in the kitchen, using the stove when he shouldn't. But then she remembered where she was-and what had happened.

In the dim light from the living room windows, she located her purse and the sundress, then ducked into the powder room that Archer had pointed out last night. As she ran the water to wash her face, she checked her phone. There was an urgent message from Molly, finally responding to Lake's call for help last night.

"Are you okay okay?" she asked. "Call me." The sound of her voice made Lake livid.

"Hey, you're up," Archer said as she stepped back into the living room. He was standing in the doorway from the kitchen, wearing a fresh dress s.h.i.+rt and a dark suit, no tie. "How about some break-k fast?"

"That would be great," she said. She remembered that she hadn't eaten dinner last night and her stomach was grumbling.

The kitchen fit Archer as well as the rest of the apartment did. Though the appliances were ultra-modern, the s.p.a.ce was casual, homey-stacks of magazines and mail on the counter, postcards on the fridge, a bowl full of bananas on the round wooden table. There was a garden out back and the door was open so that a light breeze blew into the room.

"I've got English m.u.f.fins, yogurt-plain or blueberry-granola, and a cereal called banana crunch that my stepson is addicted to but I think may contain ma.s.sive amounts of sugar."

Lake smiled. "Plain yogurt sounds good. And an English m.u.f.fin. But you don't have to wait on me. I can get it."

"No, no, sit down. There's coffee on the table."

"Your place is great," Lake said, sliding into a chair. "How long have you lived here?"

"About five years. When I was married, my wife insisted on doing the whole Upper East Side thing, which never really thrilled me. I found this place right after we split, and it's been great. There's a little study upstairs and a room for Matt, my stepson. In fact, he lived here the whole year I was working in Was.h.i.+ngton."