“Oh, okay.” Maggie smiled at Lake. “It’s great that you’re so concerned about this.”

“Well, of course,” Lake said, trying not to sound defensive. “I care about the clinic-and the people there.”

“You just seem to care more than some of the others. Like Dr. Hoss. She’s just charging around as if everything’s absolutely normal. You’ve only worked here for a few weeks and you’re way more concerned than she is.”

Let it drop, Lake thought. The last thing she wanted was for Maggie to tell everyone how involved she was with the murder.

“I better let you go,” Lake said. “Take care, now-and let me know if I can help in any way.”

As Maggie walked away, Lake turned and headed north on Lexington. The heat normally would have been an incentive to take a cab, but she needed to walk and think. She felt stunned by what she had learned-about Keaton changing his locks, about the light left on in his bathroom once before. Had someone actually been after Keaton for a while? Maybe it was all connected to the gambling problem-a light left on by the intruder as a warning to pay up or else. Keaton may have instantly known what it meant and that’s why he’d had his lock changed.

She wondered if there really had been a gambling problem. What if Levin had made that up as a form of misdirection? Which led her back to the clinic. It was entirely possible that someone had overheard Keaton’s conversation with Maggie, swiped the keys, had copies made overnight, and returned them to the desk drawer first thing the next morning.

Lake had to figure out why Keaton had changed his mind about joining the clinic. If only she could talk to Kit Archer.

She tried his line again but again got voice mail. She considered he might be someone who screened all his calls. She tossed her phone in her bag in frustration. When she looked up she saw that she was almost face-to-face with Steve Salman and his wife, Hilary. They were headed south, in the direction of the clinic, their expressions blank, as if they’d been walking without talking to each other. Hilary, always pretty and bubbly, seemed undone by the heat today. Her cheeks were blotchy and her shoulder-length brunette hair looked as if it had frizzed and then been beaten into some kind of chunky submission.

“Oh, hi,” Steve said, spotting her. “Are you done for the day? Someone said they thought you’d left.”

“Yes, I’m done for now,” Lake said. “Hello, Hilary. Were you guys having lunch together?”

“Lunch?” Hilary said, sounding mildly annoyed. “Please-we all know doctors don’t have time for lunch.”

“We were doing some quick tile shopping,” Steve said. “For a new master bath we’re putting in. I was looking for you earlier, by the way. Everything okay?”

“What do you mean?” Lake asked. Why was he always putting her on the defensive?

“I heard you were behind closed doors with Levin.”

“Actually, he did throw me a bit of a curveball,” she admitted. “He asked me to give my presentation this week instead of next. Maybe you could reason with him. It’s not so much that I need the extra time. I just don’t think it’s such a great idea to launch any kind of marketing and PR blitz right now. We should wait until the clinic is out of the eye of the storm.”

“Let me see what I can do,” Steve said. “I’m running late right now, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

As she said goodbye to the couple and turned to walk away, she wondered if Steve had heard about the keys in Maggie’s drawer. She wished she could talk candidly to Steve about the clinic, but after what he’d told the police about her, she wasn’t sure he could be discreet.

She took a cab the rest of the way home, and when they reached the corner of her block she saw that the street was nearly deserted. Families had decamped to the Hamptons or the Poconos or upstate New York. Even the afternoon doorman, Bob, was taking a break from the heat, reading a tabloid newspaper in the small, dim room just off the lobby. His head snapped up as he heard her walk by.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Warren,” he said, folding the paper over and walking to the lobby. “By the way, I spoke to Carlos. He told me your safety concerns.”

“I appreciate that,” she said.

“That wasn’t the guy who was killed downtown, was it? The fertility doc?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

“Sounds like a bad situation.”

Oh God, she thought. She didn’t want to be getting into this with him.

“It is. I just want to be super careful.”

“We always take precautions, as you know. But we’ll be extra careful.”

“Thanks, Bob,” she said and hurried past him.

As soon as she entered the apartment, she went through the rooms again, looking for anything askew, her new ritual. Then, after scooping up Smokey, she flopped on the couch and shut her eyes tightly. She needed to turn on the AC but wanted to sit and collect herself for a moment. She felt like she was in some horrible limbo without any sense of what to do next. Smokey nuzzled her hand with his nose, urging her to pet him. His furless body looked unbearably sad to her. Who did this to you? she wondered for the umpteenth time. And why?

The intercom buzzer pierced the silence, making her body jerk. She scooted Smokey off her lap and hurried to the hallway.

“Yes,” she blurted.

“Mrs. Warren?” the doorman said.

“Yes, Bob, what is it?”

“The police are here to see you.”

14

“WHAT?” LAKE ASKED. She’d heard him, but his words had nearly knocked her over.

“Two policemen. Detective Hull and…um, Detective McCarty. Oh, and I checked their IDs.”

She stood frozen in place, terrified. Had they managed to place her at Keaton’s apartment? she wondered. Were they going to arrest her? Then she remembered the keys. They would want to follow up with everyone at the clinic about the keys in Maggie’s desk. Please, please, let it be that, she begged silently.

“Uh, you can send them up, Bob,” she said.

Her legs felt like lead but she forced herself to the living room and let her eyes sweep over the room. It was essential, she knew, for her to come across as perfectly normal-a homebody, even hopelessly dull. But since the kids had been away at camp, many of the trappings of family life had been tucked away, and with its melon-colored silk drapes, ceiling-high bookshelves, and wood-framed landscape paintings, the room looked like it might belong to someone sophisticated and perhaps even posh. Quickly she pulled several books down from a shelf and tossed them onto the bare coffee table. Through the doorway into the family room she could see a Uno box on the card table. She darted in there, grabbed the box, and went back to drop it next to the books. She tossed one of the throw pillows onto the floor and scattered the others around the sofa.

What else? she thought frantically. But just then she heard the doorbell sound. It was too late for anything else.

She walked out into the hall, bracing herself. Suddenly she felt something soft on her bare calf. She glanced down to find Smokey wrapping himself around her leg. Lake clasped her hands to her mouth. She’d forgotten all about him.

She grabbed the cat and raced down to her bedroom.

“Good kitty,” she whispered, dropping him on the bed.

She was shutting the bedroom door when the buzzer rang again, insistent, irritated by the wait. As she made her way back down the hall, she closed her hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

When she opened the door, she almost didn’t recognize the two detectives. Hull had worn his hair slicked back today, maybe because of the heat. McCarty’s face was coated with a sheen of sweat-and there were wet half- moons under each arm of his khaki suit jacket.

“Sorry to disturb you at home,” McCarty said. “But we have a few more questions we’d like to ask you.”

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