Hush

cursed.”

“I saw one patient in the hall last week and she just broke down, sobbing,” Lake said. “I felt so bad for her.”

“I wasn’t in that day but I heard about it. Apparently Rory convinced the woman to make an appointment with me, but then she canceled it. Unfortunately I can’t force someone to come in to talk to me.”

“She looked fairly young. I assume she’ll keep trying.”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging a shoulder.

“Why only maybe?”

“She’s already been through eight IVFs-that’s part of the reason why she’s so wrung out.”

“Eight? Wow, that’s a lot. It must be tough on her body.”

“You sound like Mark Keaton.”

The comment took her completely aback.

“What do you mean?” she said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.

“He didn’t seem to like how many rounds she’d been through, considering her situation. When I was looking through her chart, I noticed some comments from him that suggested that.”

“Do you think it was too much?”

He twisted his head and rested his cheek on his fist, turning the question over in his mind.

“I’m the guy who figures out what’s going on in their heads, not their bodies,” he said. “What I do know is that the clinic does good work. They help a lot of women get pregnant-and that’s why patients come to us.”

“I know you also have a private practice,” she said. “Why do this kind of counseling on top of that?”

“My sister-in-law had fertility problems, and she just unraveled. My poor brother was clueless about how to deal with her. I could see how counseling would have helped them.”

“What ended up happening?”

“After lots of treatment, they gave up. They’re still together fifteen years later, but their childlessness is the proverbial eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. It didn’t help that I’d had no trouble myself.”

“You have children?”

“A daughter, nineteen. She’s a sophomore at Bucknell.”

Lake felt her face betray her surprise. She’d pegged Harry for early forties, but he had to be older than that to have a child in college.

He grinned, reading her. “I was only twenty-two when she was born-in my first year of grad school. Not the best way to start a marriage, needless to say, and in the end we didn’t make it. But Allison is great, and I’ve got no regrets.”

“That’s wonderful,” she said. Where is this going? she wondered again.

“I should ask you the same question you posed to me. Any particular reason you decided to work for a fertility clinic?”

For a split section she felt the urge to explain the weird connection she felt between the patients and herself- because they’d all been betrayed by their bodies. He was such a good listener, and how soothing it would be to unburden the thoughts she never really shared with anyone. But she didn’t dare show anything of herself to him.

“When Steve mentioned the project it just sounded interesting. I’ve had friends who’ve struggled with fertility, but I was lucky.”

“Your kids are young, right?”

“Nine and eleven. They’re at sleepaway camp right now, up in the Catskills-near where I was when you called and asked if we could get together.”

She hoped her mention of the call would serve as a nudge. Harry stirred in his seat and she saw he’d taken the hint.

“Well, I appreciate your meeting me on such short notice, especially with all the work you have on your plate.”

“What was it you wanted to see me about?”

“To be honest, I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“How I’m doing?” she asked. She felt herself bristle.

“I may be wrong, but I sensed the murder really disturbed you. I thought you might want to talk about it. Even if stuff like this doesn’t affect us directly, it can still have an impact.”

She’d been right, she thought anxiously. He’d picked up on her panic. If she tried to deny what he was intuiting, he’d know she was lying. Her mind fumbled for a way to force him off track.

“The murder was upsetting,” she said after slowly taking a breath. “But there’s actually something else that’s been troubling me. I guess I’ve worn my heart on my sleeve without meaning to.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked as the waitress returned with Lake’s cappuccino.

No, I don’t, she thought. But she might not convince him if she didn’t cough up something. She took a sip of her drink before speaking.

“I was in the process of what seemed to be a fairly amicable divorce, and then out of the blue, my husband filed for full custody. It’s been very stressful.”

“What a creep,” Harry said. He started to shake his head in dismay but stopped and smiled. “That’s my professional opinion, by the way.”

Lake couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m so used to having to suck it up and speak neutrally about him in front of the kids; it’s nice to hear someone make a nasty comment about the man.”

“I’m sorry to hear you’re going through that. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“I will, thanks.”

Harry glanced at his watch.

“Are you getting hungry?” he asked. “We could grab a bite of lunch here if you’d like.”

“Um, thanks-but I need to get back to my presentation. Maybe some other time.”

He said he would stay and have his lunch at the cafe. She took a last swig of her cappuccino. When she set the cup down on the table, Harry reached over and lightly touched her hand with the tips of his fingers.

“I hope that doesn’t hurt,” he said. When he withdrew his hand, she saw that he meant the marks Smokey had made when she’d tried to pull him out from behind the chair.

“Oh, no,” she said. “It’s just-a scratch. I can’t even remember how I got it.”

Flustered, she picked her bag up and rose to go.

“Good luck with your presentation,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll be brilliant.”

Hurrying home, she replayed the conversation with Harry in her head. She hoped her confession to him about the custody situation had quieted any suspicions he might have.

As she opened the door of her apartment, she also considered the comment he’d made about Keaton questioning Levin’s judgment about the patient they’d discussed-the one who’d had eight rounds of IVF. She wondered for the first time if the snag that had developed for Keaton didn’t involve a problem with one of the staff but rather with the clinic itself. She stopped in the hall and closed her eyes, trying to recall Keaton’s exact words that night. He’d said something about the clinic not being the best place for him right now. Perhaps Keaton had stumbled onto something that had alarmed him.

Lake had never witnessed anything the least bit suspicious at the clinic, but with her lack of medical expertise, how would she really know if something wrong was going on? There had to be a way to consider what the possibilities were. She thought suddenly about the reporter Hayden had mentioned, the guy who made Levin apoplectic. He’d written an article on the fertility business, one that Levin clearly didn’t want her to see. Maybe the truth lay in that article-or at least a hint of it. Lake dreaded going to the clinic in light of all that was happening but she knew she needed to read that article. The one sure way to save herself-and her custody of the kids-was to figure out who might have killed Keaton and somehow point the police in that direction, and away from her.

She told herself she would hunker down and work straight through until evening. But rather than light a fire under her, the newest developments seemed to paralyze her. Plus, she felt a growing dread about going into the clinic the next day. If the killer did work there, she was putting herself right in the line of sight. But she had no choice. She had to get her hands on the article; it was the only thing she had to work with.