Hush

discusses this with the media. Let them know that their asses will be in the ringer if they do.

“But at the same time,” she continued, “keep people here in the loop and give them updates on what you learn from the cops. When there’s secrecy and people don’t know what the hell is going on, they start buzzing-sometimes to reporters.”

“I assume you’ll handle all the press calls,” Levin said to her.

“No, we’ll let the NYPD do that.”

“The NYPD?” Levin exclaimed. “But-”

“It’s best to have the police take those calls. When the press contacts you here, the person fielding those calls-and let’s designate someone smart to do it-should say that all calls are being referred to the New York City Police.”

“But isn’t that why we’ve hired you-to handle those calls?” said Hoss. Despite her haughtiness, she looked tired and drained, her black hair lanky, as if she hadn’t bothered to wash it today. She was probably concerned, like everyone else, Lake thought, about what all this might do to her reputation.

“You’ve hired me to devise a strategy,” Hayden said. “If I talk to the press and they quote me, they’ll say I’m a rep for your clinic-and name the clinic. And you want to distance yourself from this as much as possible. We’re following the same approach abortion clinics use when they’ve been bombed-keep the name of the clinic out of the paper by letting the cops do all the talking. Now let’s talk about ‘load.’ That means you load me up on information. I need to know about Dr. Keaton.”

Levin, who was still wincing from the abortion clinic comment, briefly went over Keaton’s bio-Cornell med, a fellowship in reproductive endocrinology, the L.A. practice. Again, no hint that Keaton might have had second thoughts about coming on board. Had Keaton not had a chance to share his misgivings with Levin, Lake wondered- or was Levin keeping something to himself?

“Well, that’s all nice and good,” Hayden said, “but what I’m really interested in is why someone wanted to murder him. According to the papers, it doesn’t sound like he was killed during a burglary.”

“We really don’t know much about his personal life or the people he associated with outside of the clinic,” Levin said. “Up until now, he’d only worked with us on a consulting basis.”

“Have the police shared any details?” Lake interjected. Desperate to know, she couldn’t resist asking, and she knew the question had come out abruptly. Hoss eyed her quizzically.

“Nothing,” Levin said. “All we know is what’s in the papers.”

“He was an attractive guy,” Hayden said. “Was he gay?”

“Hardly,” Sherman said.

“A womanizer, then?” Hayden asked. “Could he have been killed by a jealous lover?”

“As Dr. Levin explained already, we really only knew the man professionally,” Sherman said, sounding exasperated. Lake noticed that Brie was watching smugly, as if she found the whole process positively stupid.

“There is one thing you should know,” Levin said soberly, “something I had to share with the police.” Everyone jerked their heads toward him in surprise. Lake held her breath in anticipation.

“Yes,” Hayden coaxed.

“The afternoon before we all went to dinner, an old colleague of mine from L.A. called,” Levin said “He told me he’d heard Mark was joining us and wanted me to know there were rumors circulating about him on the West Coast-that he apparently had a gambling problem.”

“And we’re just hearing this now?” Sherman said, clearly vexed.

“I hadn’t had a chance to say anything yet,” Levin said. “Obviously I didn’t like what I heard and was going to suggest that we investigate as soon as possible. That’s not the kind of person we want associated with us.”

“Did you ask Keaton about it?” Sherman asked.

“Of course not,” Levin snapped. “He certainly wouldn’t have admitted it. The only way we would have found out was through outside inquiries.”

Lake wondered if Levin had said something to Keaton-and that was the snag Keaton had coyly referred to.

Hayden pressed for more information about the gambling, but Levin assured her he had no details to share. She then reviewed procedures she wanted people to follow. Lake tried to concentrate on the conversation but her mind was racing over what she’d just heard. Could Keaton’s killer have been a mobster or hoodlum hired by a bookie- someone who knew how to jimmy a lock?

At eight forty-five Hayden finished the briefing and Lake walked her out. Because most appointments had been rescheduled, there were only a few patients in the waiting room.

“Let’s catch up later,” Hayden said quietly to her.

There was really nothing more for Lake to do at the clinic-she’d finished up her research-but she hung around, thinking there might be more talk of Keaton. She craved information, anything that might help her feel less frantic. If the gambling rumor proved to be true, for instance, the police would start pursuing that particular angle. But no one was talking and the halls were deadly quiet. She suddenly just wanted to get out of there as quickly as she could.

After grabbing her things in the conference room, she turned to leave and was surprised to see Harry Kline was standing in the doorway.

“Oh, I heard you were back,” she said, smiling. There was something so calm and easy about him; just setting eyes on him seemed to slow her pulse.

He smiled back. “I hadn’t planned to come in today but with everything that’s happened I decided it would be a good idea,” he said.

“I’m sure it’s a relief for everyone to have you here,” she said.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked. “I heard you were with the group at dinner that night.”

“It’s upsetting. I mean, I barely knew him, but still…for him to die so horribly. You know this happens in the city, but it always seems so removed. And now…”

Her nerves, she knew, were making her ramble, and when she looked up, she saw Kline watching her closely. Was he using his shrink skills to read her? Did he find something odd or troubling about her manner?

“I’d be glad to talk to you about it-if you think it would help,” he said.

“Oh-that’s nice of you. But I’ll be okay.”

“Here,” he said, pulling his wallet from his pants pockets. “I’ll give you my card, and if you change your mind just call me. It’s no bother.”

She thanked him, accepting the card. She was touched by his offer, but there was no way she’d tell him a thing.

“Oh, by the way-is everything okay with you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” he said, his brown eyes looking puzzled.

“They said you had a personal emergency the past few days.”

“Thanks for asking; fortunately things are fine now.”

She said goodbye, now desperate to get out of the office. Instead of grabbing a cab, she walked west to Madison Avenue. She thought again of the bomb that Levin had dropped. If Keaton had been a reckless gambler, possibly leading to his death, it might make Hull and McCarty less intrigued by her. But at the same time she could be in even greater danger than she’d imagined. The person or people who’d killed Keaton might get wind of the fact that a woman had been in the apartment that night. What if the killer had been in the bathroom and seen her?

Since she was close to Central Park, she decided to walk home through the park, thinking it might quell her nerves. But by the time she reached Central Park West, her feet ached and she felt bedraggled. After trudging the four long blocks to West End Avenue, she was finally home and couldn’t wait to walk through her door. As she approached her building, though, she jerked to a stop.

Jack was standing under the awning. He was clearly waiting for her.

7

WHY THE HELL was he here? she wondered. Had he stopped by to gauge her reaction to his nasty custody