Hush

The noise quieted after a moment. If it had been him, he would have seen that there was no way to reach her from where he was. But now what? she asked herself. He may have gone back to the park to wait for her. She had no choice but to stay where she was and pray that he didn’t return there. Then she could swim back to the park and flee this place.

As she waited, she pictured the man’s face in her mind. Where did she know him from? It was recent, she knew, very recent, but she couldn’t think of where she’d seen him.

She shivered. Though the water wasn’t extremely cold, she knew that if she were stuck in it long enough she would develop hypothermia. She dragged her legs back and forth through the water, trying to make her heart pump harder.

The next few minutes were endless. Far out in the river she could see freighters moving along almost soundlessly, pulled by tiny tugboats. She clung to the pylon as tightly as possible. Don’t let me die here, please, she begged. She imagined Amy and Will, living their lives without her.

After about twenty minutes, she let go of the pylon and paddled a little back upriver, fighting the tide, until she could get a better look at the park again. There was no sign of the man. But she didn’t dare go back so soon. She swam back to the pylon and grabbed hold again. Her arms ached and warm tears ran over the cool wetness of her face.

When roughly ten more minutes had passed, she knew she had to go back. She had started to shiver and her arms were trembling from grasping onto the pylon so tightly. She took a breath and began to swim, quietly as she could, back to the pebble beach. The tide was still going out, and within a minute she felt exhausted from fighting it.

Suddenly, she heard noises coming from the shoreline. With a rush of fear, she dropped her arms and treaded water. The sound was definitely emanating from the park. Was the man back? After a few seconds, she figured out the sound was laughter. She raised her head and peered through the darkness. There were four or five dark forms sitting on the terraced steps, talking and laughing. It sounded like a group of teenagers.

She began swimming harder, fighting the tide as best she could. Finally she was at the beach. She didn’t try to hit the bottom, just propelled herself onto the rocks like some kind of otter.

“Hey,” she heard one of the people on the steps call out, then “Oh my God.” As she pulled herself into a standing position, her wet clothes sucking at her body, five people scrambled down the steps in unison and ran toward her. As they drew closer she saw that they were all probably in their twenties-three guys and two girls.

“Are you okay?” one of the girls called out. “What happened to you?”

“I-I was chased into the water. By a man,” Lake said.

All five of them stared at her in disbelief. It would probably have made just as much sense, she thought, to say she’d been on a reconnaissance mission for the U.S. government and had been diving in search of foreign submarines.

“He was attacking me,” Lake added, wringing out her skirt. She scanned the area behind them, looking for the man.

“We should call the police,” the same girl said. She pulled a cell phone from the pocket of her jeans skirt and flipped it open.

“No!” Lake said, startling them all. “I mean-I will, but I can’t now. I have to get out of here in case he comes back. You-you should leave, too. It may not be safe.”

A few of them looked around nervously.

“Yeah, we better go,” one of the boys said.

“Could you walk me to my car?” Lake asked. “It’s just a block away.”

“Sure,” the same dark-haired guy said. But no sooner had she said the words than she realized that she didn’t have her purse. Her eyes raced over the rocks. There it was-still lying where it had landed when she’d thrown it at her attacker. Barefoot, she made her way gingerly over the rocks and grabbed it. Though a small notebook had slipped out onto the rocks, everything else was safely inside-her BlackBerry, her car keys, her wallet. Turning back around, she found all five people staring wide-eyed at her, clearly still dumbfounded by her entire existence.

She urged them again to leave and together they all hurried out of the park. One of the girls nervously grabbed the hand of the dark-haired guy, though the guys looked more perplexed than worried. They think I’ve had a fight with my boyfriend, Lake thought, and done a drama jump into the river. She didn’t care. She was shivering and her stomach was cramping and she just wanted to be safe in her car.

As she hurried down the street with them, trying not to stub her bare toes on the cobblestone, she constantly surveyed the area. There was no sign of the man anywhere. Ten feet away from the car, with the strangers trailing behind her, she hit the unlock button on her car key and nearly flung herself inside. Before slamming the door shut, she thanked the five strangers for their help. Somewhere in the backseat was her gym bag, where she kept a pair of athletic shoes, but she didn’t dare take the time now to find them. She fired up the engine and pulled away. In the rearview mirror she saw one of the guys shrug, as if asking, What the hell was that all about?

She could barely think straight as she drove. After making a right on a nearly deserted street, she sped out of Dumbo. When she finally reached a busier street, she pulled the car over and punched her address into the GPS so that she could find her way back to the Brooklyn Bridge.

But then she realized that she couldn’t risk going home. What if the man was waiting for her there? Plus, she couldn’t let the doorman see her this way. She could just imagine it turning up in a report in the custody case: “Doorman reports that mother once arrived home sopping wet and smelling of tanker oil and raw sewage.”

Still shivering, she flipped on the heater and tried to focus. Molly’s name flashed in her mind. She would go to her friend’s apartment in Chelsea, she decided. Molly would take care of her and help her decide what to do. Maybe now she would even tell Molly the whole story. She clearly had to start getting some help.

Once over the Brooklyn Bridge, Lake took the FDR around the tip of Manhattan and then headed north. Every few seconds she checked the rearview mirror but it was impossible to tell if she was being followed-all she could see behind her were swirling globes of light. At a red light she rooted through her purse for her BlackBerry and called Molly. She got only voice mail.

“Molly,” she said plaintively. “I-I need to talk to you. Please call me back, okay? As soon as you can.” She tried Molly’s landline next, but when there was no answer she just hung up.

Where is she? Lake wondered. Though Molly had a busy social life, she’d often told Lake she liked to be in bed before midnight. Lake checked her watch: 11:34. Knowing that Molly should be home shortly, or at the very least return Lake’s call in a lather of curiosity, Lake decided to drive to Molly’s apartment building. She’d wait outside until she finally heard back-and then she’d crash on Molly’s couch for the night. She considered the small chance Molly was on a hot date and wouldn’t be coming home tonight. But Lake had no other options.

She proceeded to West Twenty-first Street, frequently checking her rearview mirror. For one whole block there wasn’t a single car behind, so she was pretty sure she wasn’t being followed. The man who’d attacked her had obviously given up and left. She saw his face again in her mind’s eye. Finally, with a start, she remembered where she’d seen him. He was the man in the bar at the Waldorf, the one who’d checked her out after Archer left. He’d been watching her for days, then. Had someone at the clinic hired him? Had he killed Keaton with that knife?

She was so distracted that she missed Molly’s block and had to go around again. Once she was finally there, she double-parked just a few yards ahead of Molly’s apartment building so she’d be able to see her come in. She craned her neck, checking nervously behind her. A few cars came down the street but they all shot past her.

Lake had stopped shivering but she felt miserable in her wet clothes. Still watching the building, she fumbled in the backseat for the bag with her gym clothes and pulled out the shoes and a T-shirt. She scrunched down in the front seat, peeled off her jersey shell and bra and wriggled into the T-shirt. Then she put on the shoes.

Ten minutes passed. She tried Molly’s number again. Still no answer. As she eyed her incoming emails, she saw that Archer had sent her a message only a few minutes before. He’d returned from his trip sooner than he’d anticipated and wanted to catch up tomorrow.

Some movement on the block caused Lake’s eyes to shoot back up. A woman with long hair, her back toward Lake, was walking toward the building. Finally-Molly. But as the woman reached the doorway and stopped to speak to the doorman, Lake saw that it wasn’t Molly after all. What will I do if she doesn’t come home? Lake thought plaintively. Should she get a hotel room? She could imagine the face of the front-desk clerk when her stench blew