by Kate White
“But what happens when the kid gets older and his features don’t fit so well with his parents’?”
“If the coloring works, it may not seem like such a big deal. And by then there’s total attachment. Even if the parents have reason to be suspicious, they may not want to rock the boat.”
“Yeah, let sleeping dogs lie. And you just figured all this out last night, lying on my couch?”
Lake smiled. “I think my subconscious has been working on it for a while. When I spoke to Alexis, she made a point of saying that the baby she saw with Melanie Turnbull matched Melanie’s coloring perfectly. That comment has been playing in my brain somewhere ever since.”
Archer shook his head in disgust. “And all just to improve their success rates. Do you think all the doctors could be in on it?”
She thought of Steve and felt a pang of worry.
“I don’t know,” she said. She took a sip of coffee. “It’s possible that only a few people are involved and doing it without the others being aware. The nurses, for instance, could be totally in the dark.”
“Wouldn’t they be curious about the codes?”
“They might not notice them because they only appear on the basic information sheet that patients fill out in the beginning, not on the medical forms that get used later. Once a patient is under treatment, the focus would be on notations made about procedures, that sort of thing.”
“You need to persuade Maggie to look through a bunch of the files and see how many have these codes. Of course, if she’s in on it, this will be the tip-off that you know as much as they suspect you do.”
“And if she’s not and they catch her going through everyone’s records, this could put her in danger,” Lake said.
“Warn her that she has to be extremely careful.”
“Okay,” Lake said. She glanced down at the table, thinking about all of this. What would be the best way to approach Maggie? She would probably have better luck if she did it face-to-face.
“Speaking of danger,” Archer said, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced back across the table. He had leaned back in his chair and was studying her intently. “Tell me what you know about Keaton.”
Lake’s heart jumped. Where was this going?
“Wh-what do you mean?” she asked.
“How do you think his death fits in with all this? Did he learn something he wasn’t supposed to know?”
Lake slowly let out a breath in relief.
“I’ve wondered the same thing,” she said. “We know that anyone from the clinic could have gotten into his apartment by using the set of keys from Maggie’s drawer.”
She wished she could tell him about seeing Melanie Turnbull’s name on Keaton’s table. Or at the very least that Keaton was going to bail on the clinic. Maybe she could say that Keaton had let that fact slip during conversation. But that would only arouse Archer’s curiosity-and she couldn’t give him even a hint of the whole truth.
“Possibly,” he said. He finished his coffee and set the mug down. “But as much as I don’t like coincidences, there’s a chance that Keaton’s death is just that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I talked to some police contacts I have. They’ve got their own ideas about what went down.”
“Oh?” Lake said, almost in a whisper.
“Keaton had a lady caller the night he was killed. There was a torn condom wrapper on the floor next to his bed. Which explains why the cops seemed interested in you. They’re gonna look at every woman he crossed paths with.”
Lake looked down, running her thumb along the handle of her mug.
“I can see your mind spinning,” Archer said. “Got any ideas?”
“No-no, I don’t,” she sputtered. “I mean, I guess a woman could have killed him. Someone he was seeing. Is that what you think?”
“That’s one possibility,” Archer said. “Or… he had sex with this woman and, lucky for her, she left right afterward. And then after she was gone, someone from the clinic-or hired by the clinic-snuck in and did the job. Maybe it was even the guy who attacked you last night.”
“There’s so much to consider,” Lake said weakly. It was all she could manage to say. She wondered if Archer suspected something and was toying with her. She needed to derail this conversation as soon as possible. She quickly drained her coffee mug and announced that she would grab her things from the living room.
They were in her car ten minutes later. Archer offered to drive and she gladly let him. Whatever sporadic calm she’d felt on and off at Archer’s apartment was shot now-in part because she was headed home but also because of the breakfast-table conversation about Keaton. The traffic didn’t help: the blaring horns on Sixth Avenue made her want to jump out of her skin. She barely spoke to Archer on the twenty-five-minute drive to the Upper West Side.
“I think I should come in with you for a minute,” Archer said as they walked up the driveway of her parking garage. “Just to be sure everything is okay in your apartment.”
Once again she didn’t fight him. Given the mystery doorbell ring from the other night, she knew someone could easily gain access to her floor.
As they approached her building, she looked around. There were a dozen people hurrying along different points on the block, probably all bound for work. Nothing ominous, at least that she could see.
The doorman, Ray, was accepting a delivery of dry cleaning, but that didn’t stop him from greeting her and giving Archer a discreet once-over. She worried briefly if having Archer come up might be grist for Jack’s case, but she figured it was okay if he only stayed a few minutes.
“Does everything seem all right to you?” Archer asked as they stepped into the apartment.
“Yes-at first glance.”
“Why don’t I take a quick look around-if that’s okay with you?”
“Thank you, I’d appreciate that,” she said.
At that moment Smokey shot down the hall toward her.
“Geez,” Archer said. “What’s happened to this poor cat?”
“Someone did that to him.”
“Last night?” Archer exclaimed.
“No, no. Before.” Lake quickly told him the story, as well as about the catnip and the night the doorbell rang. Archer listened with his brow furrowed, not interrupting.
“Okay, I need the actual timeline for all of this,” he said when she’d finished. “When was the cat shaved?”
“Last weekend.”
“And the catnip showed up in your purse…?”
“On Wednesday.”
“This isn’t making much sense to me. The office manager-her name’s Brie?-caught you going through the files a day or two ago. Since then you were given the cold shoulder at your presentation and you were attacked when you were supposed to be meeting with a former patient. That makes some kind of sense. But why was your cat shaved last weekend?”
“I-I don’t know,” Lake stammered. “Levin knew I’d found the file with your name. Maybe he already thought I was beginning to snoop around. Maybe he wanted to warn me off.”
“But how were you supposed to guess that having your cat shaved meant to cool it at the clinic? That takes a hell of a lot of translation. No, there’s a piece missing here…”
He swept a hand through his hair and stared off to the side, thinking. Lake could barely contain her agitation. She didn’t want him thinking about this. Because if he did, it wouldn’t be long before he saw the full timeline in his mind and realized that the incidents had begun shortly after the murder itself. And that she was somehow deeply connected to it.
“Should we look around now?” she asked. “I don’t want to hold you up.”
“Sure,” he said, but when his eyes caught hers she saw that they were questioning. She could tell he sensed she was holding back.
With Lake leading, they ducked into each room in the apartment. Nothing seemed amiss.
“I can’t thank you enough for this, Kit,” she said as they left the famil
y room. She realized it was the first time she’d used his first name. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“I’m just glad you decided to call me. So when do you plan to talk to Maggie?”
“Around twelve-thirty. She goes to the same spot for lunch most days and I think I’ll just wait outside for her.”
“Call me right afterward, okay?” he said, walking toward the door. “And call me if you feel in any kind of danger.”
Their eyes met and he held her gaze for a moment.
“Thanks again for everything,” she said.
As soon as she’d closed the door behind him, she flicked the dead bolt and put the chain on the door. It was just after nine. Though Maggie was her priority today, there was someone else she needed to talk to: her lawyer. Hotchkiss was probably already at his desk. She dialed the number and his secretary put her through.
“I’m not sure if this will help my custody situation or not,” she told him, “but I’m pretty sure my husband is having an affair with one of my friends.”
“Interesting,” he said dryly. “How did you learn this?”
“I happened to see him going into her building last night.”
“He could have been visiting someone else who lives there.”
“Yes-but she’s also been unusually inquisitive lately about anything having to do with Jack and the divorce.”
“It’s worth checking out,” he said after a pause. “And we may be able to use it as a bargaining chip. Remember that I said we might want to hire an investigator? I think we should at this point.”
Lake sighed. She couldn’t believe it was coming to this. She agreed and Hotchkiss said he would have an associate make the arrangements. Then he warned her not to tip her hand.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” he said, “but you’ll have to act the same-to both of them. If they suspect you’re wise to them, they’ll alter their behavior. And there will be nothing for us to investigate.”
As soon as she disconnected the call, the phone rang in her hand. It was Hayden calling. Lake braced herself. There might be some kind of update about the case.
“What’s up?” Lake asked.
“Well, it’s not pretty,” Hayden said. “And I feel awkward as hell sharing it.”
“What is it?” she demanded.
“You’re going to be getting a letter by messenger from Levin and Sherman. They’re terminating your consulting arrangement.”
So this explained the coolness at the meeting-they were planning to can her. But maybe it had more to do with what happened in Brooklyn. They didn’t dare face her again.
“They told you that themselves?” Lake said.
“Yes-I just got off the phone with Levin. I called him to say that I thought the three of us should go over where everything stood and he broke the news. Look, I’m really sorry about all this.”
“I appreciate your giving me the heads-up.”
“What’s going on, anyway, Lake? Why’s he giving you the boot?”
“What did he tell you exactly?” Lake asked.
“Nothing-but he didn’t sound pleased. I know you felt rushed about your presentation. I take it it didn’t go over well.”
“I guess not. I don’t think we saw eye-to-eye on things.”
“Do you want me to try any damage control? It’s what people pay me the big bucks for.”
“No, but thanks.”
Lake’s heart was racing as she hung up. She’d suspected last night that something like this might be coming. They knew she was onto them and, of course, they couldn’t allow her on the premises anymore. And yet the news still felt like a hard kick in the gut.
She tried to calm herself. Everything seemed to be closing in on her-but she couldn’t let it. She would leave for the coffee shop in two hours. Her only hope at this point lay with Maggie.
24
AS LAKE WAS about to toss the phone down, it rang yet again. It was a cell phone number she didn’t recognize
“Lake, hi, it’s Harry Kline. Have you got a minute?”
His voice had that familiar soothing tone, but she bristled at the sound of his voice.
“What is it?” she asked. Was he calling to forewarn her about her situation and then ask how she was feeling? she wondered bitterly.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“If it’s about me getting my walking papers, I’ve already heard.”
“No, it’s more than that. Can you meet me this morning?”
“You can’t tell me over the phone?” she said impatiently.
“No. I’m at the clinic and I’m not comfortable talking here-even with my door closed. I could just hop in a cab and meet you. Are you home now?”
That was the last place she wanted to meet.
“Um, why don’t we meet in Riverside Park? By the entrance at Eighty-third Street. That would be easiest for me.”
He said he would be there in twenty-five minutes. She threw on a skirt and a top and pinned her hair up in a loose bun. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what Harry wanted to tell her. Things must be tense at the clinic right now. Harry may have overheard a heated discussion about her. Or perhaps he picked up on something in the air and began snooping around himself.
She was at the park ten minutes early. On the walk over she’d reassured herself that nothing could happen in daylight on a busy street, but she was still hypervigilant. There weren’t many people in the park-an elderly woman tossing birdseed to pigeons, a few mommies and nannies watching toddlers in a sandbox. People were away on vacation. Like she used to be in August.
“Lake?”
She spun around in surprise at the sound of Harry’s voice. He’d also arrived early. He was dressed in his standard dark pants and cobalt-blue dress shirt.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said. “Shall we find a bench?”
They walked farther into the park. Across the Hudson the buildings in New Jersey gleamed in the sunshine and through the trees she saw a speedboat slicing through the water, leaving a row of foam. It made her remember last night, holding on to the pylon for dear life in the deep, dark water. Harry motioned for them to take a seat on an empty bench.
“So what is it you need to talk about?” she asked. As she caught his eyes, she was shocked at how troubled they seemed.
“Look, I may be on the periphery of things at the clinic,” he said, “but I’m involved enough to know that something isn’t right.”
It was all Lake could do to keep from shaking the words out of Harry.
“What do you mean exactly?” she said.
“I don’t like what’s going on with you.”
“With me?” she blurted out.
“The way they’ve just suddenly terminated your agreement.”
“I told you I was aware of that,” she said. “I haven’t received the letter but I hear it’s on the way.”
“But are you aware of what they’re saying?”
“No-what?” she said hoarsely.
“As soon as I heard that they’d ended things with you, I asked Levin why. He said that you’d been unprofessional. In fact, he said some of your behavior could even be categorized as unethical.”
“What?” Lake exclaimed in shock. “Did-did he explain what he meant?”
“He said you’d been caught going through patient records. I pointed out that part of your job is to gather information, but he said he had reason to believe that you were passing confidential details about our procedures on to another clinic.”
Lake’s eyes welled up in anger.
“That’s a lie,” she said. “I would never do something like that.”
Harry leaned back against the park bench, his face pensive. A light breeze lifted the waves of his black hair. “Do you have any idea why he’s claiming it, then?”
“I-no, I don’t,” Lake said. She wondered why Harry was sharing all this with her. Was he trolling for information of his own?
“You don’t know? Or you don’t want to share it with me?”
“Maybe I should start by asking what your role is in this,” Lake said. “Why are you being so forthcoming?”
Harry bit his lip, as if hesitant to say.
“We’ve only known each other a few weeks, but I like you, and I respect you a lot,” he said after a moment. “It’s hard for me to buy what Levin said. And I want to help you if I can.”
“Help me?” Lake asked. She could feel her anger close to the surface. “Like you helped me when you told the police things about me?”
“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, looking surprised.
“When we were having coffee last Sunday, you pointed out that I’d seemed unusually upset after the murder. And then suddenly the police are at my apartment, telling me that someone told them the same thing.”
He took a deep breath and leaned toward her.
“So that’s why you were so cool to me the other day. Lake, I give you my word-I never said anything about you to those detectives. For starters, I’m a therapist, and breaking a confidence runs against every instinct I have as a person and everything in my professional training. Secondly, I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
She studied his face as he spoke. His eyes, his mouth, his body language-everything suggested he was telling the truth. But as he’d just pointed out, he was a therapist, someone all too familiar with how people could be manipulated and fooled.
“Look,” he added. “I can see that you’re still skeptical. So I’m going to admit something that seems ridiculous to put out there right now, but it may lend me an ounce of credibility.”
He lifted his shoulders and flipped over both palms in an almost boyish gesture. “The reason I asked you for coffee the other day is that I was looking for an excuse to be with you. I’d like to go out with you, Lake. So the last thing I would have wanted is to put you in any kind of weird situation with the cops.”
Lake almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. People were trying to kill her, the cops might suspect her of murder, and this guy was confessing a crush on her.
