Hush

After opening her laptop in the small conference room, Lake went to the kitchenette and fixed some tea, trying to act normal. The cup trembled in her hand as she pumped hot water into it.

“How was the dinner last night?” a female voice asked with a trace of sarcasm. Lake turned to find Brie towering in the doorway, her thin, scarlet-painted lips locked in a tight smile. Brie had obviously not been invited.

“Nice,” Lake said as lightly as possible. “I got a chance to spend more time with Dr. Levin. He’s a very impressive guy.”

“We certainly think so,” Brie said, snippily.

Lake took a small breath and forced herself to smile. “I’ll be in the conference room making some notes-if anyone’s looking for me.”

“Expecting someone?” Brie asked.

“I-no. But one of the doctors might want to talk to me.” She felt stupid for having stammered, for having overexplained herself. If she was going to get through the day, she told herself, she would have to compel herself to calm down.

She went back to her laptop and tried to read the file of notes she’d been taking. But really she just waited, reading the same line over and over. At eleven, she spotted Maggie in the corridor, talking to someone just out of sight.

“I’ve left him at least ten messages,” Maggie complained. “He was supposed to be here at nine for a procedure, and Dr. Levin is fit to be tied.”

Oh God, Lake thought. She had to be talking about Keaton. He was officially missing in action and soon everything would come to a head. She felt a wave of nausea and wondered if she’d be sick. She hurried to the restroom to the left of the kitchenette. After locking the door, she wet a paper towel with cold water. Sitting on the toilet seat, she pressed the towel to her face and forced herself to breathe.

When Lake stepped out of the restroom, the hall was even quieter than usual and every door was closed. Suddenly she heard a cry that sounded almost animal-like. She spun around. It had come from an exam room just down the hall, and as Lake stood frozen, Rory and Dr. Levin emerged through the doorway. Have they just heard the news? she wondered. Had Rory let out the cry? But then she saw there was a patient with them, and it was she who was crying.

“Rory will help you now,” she overheard Levin say.

“Would you prefer to stay in the room for a few more minutes, Mrs. Kastner?” Rory asked the slender, spent- looking patient as Levin headed toward the front. “It might help to rest for a minute.”

“No, I can’t bear this,” the woman said, through her sobs. “I just want to go home.”

“I understand. But I’ll walk you out. And I brought you some of my jams today. Come on, we’ll pick them up on our way out.”

This is surreal, Lake thought. People are passing out jams as Keaton’s body lies rotting in his bed.

Back in the conference room, she started the horrible waiting again. The lab supervisor popped his head in at noon and announced that people were ordering lunch-would she like something? Sure, she told him, forcing a smile. Maybe they won’t find Keaton today, she thought miserably as he walked away with her order. Maybe I’ll have to spend another hellish day waiting.

But forty-five minutes later, as Lake picked at a sandwich, Brie appeared in the door and her face looked dark.

“Please come to the big conference room,” she said, her voice strained. “There’s an emergency meeting of the staff.”

“Of course,” Lake replied. A wave of panic crashed over her. This is it, she thought. I have to seem normal. And look as shocked as everyone else when they hear the news.

Lake was one of the last to enter the conference room and it was packed; the doctors, nurses, lab personnel, and support staff were all there-except Harry Kline, Lake noticed. There were also two men whom she guessed to be detectives. One was black, early forties, sort of beefy, with kind eyes. The other was white, shorter, with salt- and-pepper hair. His eyes weren’t the least bit kind.

“I have terrible news to report,” Levin said somberly as soon as everyone was quiet. “Dr. Keaton was found murdered in his apartment today.”

There were exclamations of horror around the room. Lake’s eyes met Steve’s, and he flashed her a look of shock. Chelsea, one of the young embryologists, burst into tears, and then there was a flurry of questions.

“Please, everyone,” Levin,” said. “We have two detectives here and they need our cooperation.”

“Folks, we’re very sorry for your loss,” the one with the unkind eyes said. “I’m Detective Hull and this is Detective McCarty. We’re here because we need to speak to each of you privately. Until it’s your turn to meet with us, just resume what you were doing. And do not discuss the case among yourselves at this time.”

Levin interjected, telling everyone that all nonessential appointments were being canceled for the day and that it was critical to give the remaining patients the best care possible. He dismissed the meeting then and everyone dispersed, walking zombie-like out of the conference room.

Back in the small conference room, Lake opened one of her folders, trying not to let her hand shake. She mentally rehearsed for the meeting with the detectives, trying to guess the questions they’d ask. They’d want to know if she was at all friendly with Keaton. Grasping at straws, she thought of a marketing strategy she once read about called the Rule of Candor: admit a negative and twist it into a positive. She’d need to be forthcoming about talking to Keaton yesterday in the office. It would be better than having them find out about it from Brie.

Rory came in at one point to place a reference book back on the bookshelf. Her eyes were misty and she had one hand draped across her pregnant belly.

“Isn’t it horrible?” she said to Lake. “He was only forty-five.”

“I know,” Lake said. “Who-who do you think would have wanted to kill him?”

“Oh, but they told us not to talk about the crime,” Rory admonished

“I know. I just-” Lake said defensively. But Rory turned and left before she could finish.

Lake assumed the detectives were calling people one by one into the large conference room so she was startled when a short while later they entered the small conference room where she was sitting.

“Lake Warren?” McCarty, the nicer-seeming detective, asked.

“Yes.” She started to rise but he motioned for her to stay seated. They slid into chairs opposite her, and McCarty flipped open a notebook.

“So you’ve worked here for just a few weeks?” McCarty said.

“Um, yes. Though I’m not an actual employee. I’m a freelance consultant.” Her words sounded clunky, as if she were relearning how to speak.

“Did you know Dr. Keaton very well?” McCarty asked.

“No. No, I didn’t. But I did chat with him a little bit yesterday.”

“What’d you talk about?”

“His joining the practice, some details about his former clinic.”

“And what about previously?” Hull asked, speaking for the first time.

“Previously?” she said, confused.

“Did you know him previously?” he asked, staring at her.

Her pulse jumped. Why was he asking that?

“No,” she said as evenly as possible. “I only met him when I started working here.”

McCarty scribbled a few notes in his pad and then looked back at her.

“Tell us about dinner last night. What did the two of you talk about?” he said.

“We didn’t talk. To each other, that is. We were seated at opposite ends of the table.”

Don’t sound so defensive, she told herself. She was starting to feel ill with anxiety.

“And after dinner?”

“You mean, did I speak to him?”

“Yup.”

“No-he left early. He said something about needing to call a patient. I was one of the last to leave the restaurant.”

The two men swapped a look, and then Hull trained his gaze at Lake.