Hush

Archer placed a hand on his cheek and let out a long breath.

“I clearly hit a nerve with them,” Lake continued. “The reason I was in Brooklyn was that I tracked Melanie Turnbull down, too. At first she didn’t want anything to do with me, but then she agreed to meet me in a restaurant in her neighborhood. I waited an hour and she never showed. As I was walking back to my car, this man started following me-and then chasing me. And guess what else? He was also in the bar at the Waldorf the night I met you. He must have followed me there, too.”

“So you think this woman reported back to the clinic that you’d called her and they arranged for this guy to try to kill you-a guy they’d already hired to keep you in his sights?”

“Yes, it seems that way. Levin obviously had him start watching me after he discovered I was getting snoopy. Then the assignment escalated.” Suddenly she felt her whole body sag from exhaustion. “There’s so much I’ve got to tell you. But I’d love to wash up first. After being in that river, I’m worried I’m on the verge of coming down with cholera.” She managed a smile.

“Of course. How about a shower? I think that would be better than just washing up.”

“Yes, great,” she said.

“Come on, then. The main bathroom’s upstairs.” As he started to get up, he caught himself. “Wait, what about the police. What have you told them so far?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly.

“Nothing? What do you mean?”

“I haven’t called them. Not yet.”

“But you need to.”

“Th-there’s a reason I haven’t. I can explain later, okay?”

He eyed her curiously.

“All right,” was all he said. He led her back out into the hallway and up a set of stairs to his bedroom.

“Give me a second to find you a clean towel,” he said.

As he rustled through a linen closet in the hallway, her eyes scanned the room. Though the space, with its big oak bed and bedside table stacked with books, bore no resemblance to Keaton’s sleek, spare room, she felt momentarily unsettled. The last time she had been in a strange man’s bedroom, he’d been brutally murdered. And her world had fallen apart.

Archer returned to the room and pointed to the attached bathroom. He said he’d meet her downstairs when she was done.

“Tea or brandy?” he asked before he closed the bedroom door behind him.

“I could use both, if you don’t mind,” she said, smiling.

Within a minute she was in the shower, with the water as hot as she could stand. She felt off kilter being naked in a strange bathroom, and yet it was good to get the river stench off her. As she shampooed her hair, her eyes ran along the sides of the tub. There was nothing to suggest that a woman currently spent time on Archer’s premises. Suddenly her thoughts rushed back to Jack and Molly. She’d been so preoccupied talking to Archer that she’d lost track of that part of the night’s horror show. All those months she’d obsessed over what had happened to her marriage and why she’d been abandoned. Had the answer been literally right in front of her?

When she emerged from the steamy bathroom fifteen minutes later, she discovered a sundress lying across the bed. So, she thought, there is someone in his life and he’s loaning me her clothes. She slipped the sundress over her head, put her sneakers back on, and carried her wet skirt and underwear downstairs in a bundle. Archer was reading in an armchair. On the coffee table was a tray with a pot of tea, an empty mug, and a glass of brandy.

“Better?” he asked, looking up.

“Yes, much. I can’t believe how I’ve imposed on you-without even knowing you. Thanks for the dress, by the way.”

“One of my stepson’s girlfriends left it here-I believe she’s gone off to Finland, so I’m sure it won’t be missed.”

Tucking her wet hair behind her ears, she settled onto the couch.

“I hope you’re not an Earl Grey kind of girl,” Archer said, raising his chin in the direction of the teapot. “All I had was English Breakfast.”

“That’s perfect,” she said, pouring.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Archer said. “I want to hear everything.”

He wasn’t going to let her just sit there and decompress. He was a reporter, after all. But she’d known that when she came here.

She started with her call to Alexis and then took him through everything else, including her presentation and the way Levin had shut her down.

“I was being dismissed, obviously,” Lake said. “And this whole meeting with Melanie-it was clearly a setup, a way to lure me over to some dark street in Brooklyn.”

“Are you sure? What if she had good intentions but simply got cold feet? I even wonder if something might have happened to her.”

Lake hadn’t considered that. But after a moment she shook her head.

“It’s possible, I suppose, but I don’t think so. Though someone could have followed me to the Waldorf, I’m almost sure no one followed me to Brooklyn tonight. I remember that when I parked on the street, there weren’t any cars behind me. Melanie must have alerted someone at the clinic when she’d heard from me and they told her to set up the meeting. Though I doubt she knew they planned to kill me.”

Archer tapped his fist lightly against his lips, a gesture she’d seen him use before.

“But what in hell do they think you’ve got on them?” he asked. “All you actually know is what Alexis told you, and there’s probably nothing the police could do with that info anyway.”

Lake massaged her damp head as her mind tossed everything around. What could they think she knew? Did it go back to Keaton? Was Levin aware she’d been with him that night and assumed he’d told her why he was pulling out of his deal with the clinic?

“Speaking of the police,” Archer said, tugging her from her thoughts, “tell me why you haven’t called them.”

She took a long, slow breath. She needed an explanation that Archer would buy-one that wouldn’t arouse his suspicions.

“The night Mark Keaton was killed a group of us had dinner with him,” she said. “The police came on strong during the interview with me the next day. Keaton had a reputation as a player and they may have wondered if I’d been having an affair with him-and then murdered him. I just don’t want to direct their attention toward me. I’m in a bad custody battle and my ex is clearly looking for anything he can use against me.”

Archer didn’t say a word, just stared at her. Though his face was expressionless, she could see the question in his eyes: Did she have an affair with Keaton? The next question would be: Did she murder him? She took a sip of tea to break the eye contact.

“But if you don’t involve the police,” he said after a minute, “this guy won’t be apprehended. And he may try to hurt you again. Look what happened to Keaton-this all might be connected.”

“I know he may try again-and it’s terrifying,” Lake said. “But I honestly don’t think telling the police will help. It’s not like this guy left his fingerprints in the park. They’d never be able to trace him.”

“But someone down there may have seen him getting into a car.”

She had to get Archer off the police angle.

“Maybe,” she said evenly. “But if these two homicide detectives find out I was chased into the East River, they’re going to suspect something funny is going on with me. Remember what you said about coincidences? Even if I tell the cops I suspect the clinic of arranging the attack, it still puts too much focus on me.”

“But what they might actually do is investigate the clinic. They could end up arresting people-including this thug from tonight.”

Lake shook her head. “But as you said before, there’s no way the cops can just walk into the clinic and investigate. They need proof, and there isn’t any. All we have is Alexis’s word, and, as your producer pointed out, she has a tendency to come off as a nut job.”

“Okay, let’s talk about proof, then,” he said, leaning back into his armchair. “You never found anything in the files?”