And then she was gone, except for the sound of her heels driving into the floor.

chapter 14.

I touched a hand to the corridor wall and sucked in air.

Wouldn't it be terrible if you slipped and hurt yourself? It had seemed like a threat. The type of veiled threat that had been my stepmother's specialty. "Be careful, Robin," she'd say. "You wouldn't want to get a stain on that pretty new dress of yours." She'd drag out the words, the way Vicky had done. And then several days later, there would be a stain. Splatters of blue-black ink down the front or a huge, ugly smear of grease.

I took another deep breath. Vicky's the one, I thought. She'd practically told me so with the threatening tone and the hatred in her eyes.

"You okay, Robin?"

I glanced up. Alex was talking. He was coming down the hall with Maddy; both of them were carrying small plastic cups.

"I'm fine." I considered what Ann had warned about not letting my stress show. "It's just been a crazy day."

"They're serving frozen yogurt in the cafeteria," he said, holding his cup out. "Want me to run back and grab you one?"

"No, but thanks." That had been nice. I felt too queasy to eat anything now, though.

"By the way, did Tom find you?" Alex said. "He asked if I'd seen where you'd gone after the meeting."

"No, I'll look for him now," I said. Hopefully, Tom had an update from Oliver. Then I thought back to the uncomfortable moment in the hallway, when I'd purposefully kept my eyes off Carter. It would be just like Tom to detect any undercurrents.

I turned to go and then looked back at Maddy. "Give me a call later, will you?" I needed to follow up with her about what she'd blabbed to her mother.

I found Tom in his office with an empty sushi container on his desk. He motioned me in, and I closed the door before I took a seat.

"How you doin'?" he asked, hands behind his head.

"Okay," I said.

"I can't believe someone we know is pulling this kind of s.h.i.t," he said. "Have you heard anything from Oliver?"

"No, I was hoping you had."

"Not a peep yet. There's something I wanted to mention, though. Related to you and Carter."

My breath froze in my chest. Did he suspect? "Yes?" I said.

"I know I've discouraged you and Carter from taking time off, but if you could use a break one night, that's understandable. Especially in your case right now."

Relieved, I exhaled. "Tom, thank you, but I don't need any time off," I replied. "As I said before, my tormenter wants me off the air, and I intend to do my best not to let that happen." As I spoke, I could see Vicky in my mind's eye, uttering her sinister comment after making sure no one could overhear.

I rose to leave, and Tom held out a hand for me to wait. "One more thing," he said. He flicked a pencil back and forth a few times. "So Potts told me you went to see him to discuss the show," he said finally.

I paused, confused. "Tom, I haven't a clue what you're talking about. I've spoken to Dave twice in the last month-at his apartment yesterday and when he told me to back off from doing the crime pieces."

"You didn't discuss becoming more involved in the segments?"

"Oh, okay," I said quickly. I had just realized what he was referring to. "It came up that time in his office. But Potts mentioned it, not me."

So Potts had lied to Tom, making it seem like I was the one instigating a bigger role for myself.

"Hey, no need to get defensive," Tom said.

"I'm not being defensive," I said. "I just don't like you thinking again that I went around you. That's not my style, Tom."

"Okay, fine," he said, shrugging. "Anyway, it probably is time to start expanding your role. But give me a few days to work this out."

"Great," I said. "I'm thrilled, of course."

I allowed myself a brief rush of satisfaction. I wondered if it was Tom who had lied, not Potts, trying to guage what my reaction would be. The bottom line: I couldn't trust either one of them.

A few minutes later, as I hurried back to my office, Keiki called out that Maddy was on the line. I pushed the door shut and picked up.

"Sorry we haven't had a chance to talk lately," I told her.

"That's all right," she said. "Alex has been giving me lots of guidance."

"Good. He's very smart, and you can learn plenty from him. On another note, I heard you talked to your mom about me."

Long pause. "I was just worried," Maddy said. "You don't seem like yourself lately. Like today, when we ran into you."

"There's a lot going on that I can't share with you, and though I appreciate your concern, I need you to be discreet. I don't want people outside of work knowing my business, even if they are family."

Another pause. "All right," she said, sounding disgruntled.

"Maddy, as I told you before," I said, "the stakes are high here, and you have to follow the rules."

"It's just that I can't seem to get anything right with you these days."

She was flipping the situation, making it seem like the trouble was my att.i.tude rather than her mistakes. I said, "You can't take this personally. You have to think about whether you're up to the challenges here. It's not for the faint of heart."

"Of course," she said after a moment. I couldn't tell if she got it or was just placating me.

By the time I hung up, my shoulders were up around my ears. I grabbed my cell phone and tapped Carter's number. He'd texted me in the morning, but I hadn't replied.

"Were you ignoring me at the meeting?" he asked kiddingly.

"Just being cautious," I said.

"So can I look forward to the pleasure of your company again?"

Of course he could. That was why I'd called him. "When?" I asked.

"How about tonight? I'm supposed to be in the Hamptons this weekend, but I can wait and show at lunchtime Sat.u.r.day."

I laughed. "Kind of short notice, isn't it?"

"Well, I'm sorry, I can't help myself. You've got only yourself to blame."

"All right, then," I said. I thought of the scent of his body, how it felt to have him inside me.

"I have a friend who's a big shot at the Mark Hotel. He'll gladly comp me a room tonight. Privacy guaranteed."

Carter suggested I meet him there at nine-thirty. He would arrive a few minutes ahead and text me the room number.

At home after the show, I changed into a pair of white jeans, ballet flats, and a low-cut sleeveless top I hadn't worn in ages. I stuffed a few toiletries deep into my tote bag. Instead of having the driver wait while I dressed, then drop me off at the hotel, I walked the short distance south from my apartment.

The room turned out to be a small suite, sleek and modern, decorated in shades of beige and brown. Carter had changed into jeans, too, and a long-sleeved white linen shirt.

He pulled me to him as soon as I entered the room, and I could feel his erection through his jeans. "I hope you can wait for dinner," he said, his voice husky.

Standing in the living area, we nearly tore each other's clothes off. He was rougher this time, but I liked it. He kneaded my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, bit the nipples lightly. And then he spun me around. He leaned me against the table, grabbed my a.s.s with his hands, and entered me from behind. I stretched out my arms, lost in the sensation of Carter sliding in and out, my o.r.g.a.s.m crashing over me.

We ate dinner in bed afterward as m.u.f.fled city sounds drifted up from the street below. I was ravenous. I wolfed down a steak, two gla.s.ses of wine, and a piece of warm chocolate cake with caramel ice cream. Sometime during the night, we had s.e.x again.

In the morning, I woke to the sound of the shower running. A few minutes later, Carter emerged with a fluffy towel wrapped around him.

"Morning," he said, smiling. "Sorry to have to bail on you."

"Not a problem," I said.

"My buddy ended up giving me the room for the weekend, so stay if you want," he said, pulling a leather duffel bag from the closet. "It might be good for you to have a change of scenery after everything you've been through."

I told him I'd think about it, but I knew I wouldn't stay. I was feeling wired again. As Carter dressed, I thought of Vicky and what she'd implied: I'm going to make you slip and hurt yourself. She's not done with me, I thought. She's not done.

I spent the rest of the weekend trying to stay in motion-errands, tidying the apartment, my first run in weeks around the Central Park Reservoir. When I had brunch on Sunday with a friend visiting from Seattle, booked weeks before, I could barely keep my mind on the conversation.

On Monday morning, I headed down to the newsroom early. At least one of the stories we'd sketched out on Friday was not likely to hold, and I needed to see what was up. Standing there, I found my eyes lured again down the long corridor toward Vicky's office. As I stared, William Oliver suddenly emerged from the room, like someone slipping through a tear in a curtain. I caught my breath in surprise. Had he found something?

I bided my time for an hour and then took the elevator upstairs.

"Have you got a minute, Will?" I asked after knocking on his half-open door.

"By all means," he said. He motioned for me to take a seat. His office was spa.r.s.ely furnished, the desk nearly empty except for the blotter, the phone, and an in-box with a single sheet of paper. Not the kind of guy who sat on his work.

"I was wondering if you had any leads yet," I said.

"I'm afraid we don't at this point," he responded. "The test on the foundation will take a few more days. And unfortunately, the surveillance videos weren't helpful."

"What do you mean?"

"There's no camera directed at the area immediately outside your office, so it's impossible to see who left the doll. We were able to view the makeup room traffic, but that place is like Grand Central. The talent goes in and out of there, but so do plenty of other people."

I thought for a moment, picking my words. "Something occurred with Vicky Cruz on Friday that I think you should be aware of." I described the encounter.

"Interesting," he said, his face neutral. "But the comment could have been perfectly harmless, just an expression people use."

"Her tone was threatening."

"Robin, I don't want you to get worked up unnecessarily. As soon as we have a lead, I will let you know. "

"I saw you coming out of Vicky's office earlier," I said. "I thought there might be a development."

He narrowed his eyes. "I simply found an excuse to stop by, chat and observe. As I said, I'll be in touch with you as soon as we learn something."

His tone had turned patronizing. And I didn't like what he'd just told me. Vicky was smart enough to know that someone like Oliver didn't simply drop by for a "chat."

"Since the video cameras have turned out to be a bust, what do you plan to do instead?" I asked.

"We're taking steps. But I'd like to keep those under wraps for now."

"You make it sound like I'm being pushy," I said sharply. "I hope you can see things from my point of view. I feel like a sitting duck around here."

"I a.s.sure you, Robin, we view this very seriously, and I guarantee we will find out who's behind it."

On Tuesday I felt even more agitated. Each day that something didn't happen made it worse. On the show that night, during the rescheduled segment about baby divorcees, I lost my train of thought completely for about five seconds. As I glanced around the table, trying desperately to figure out what had been said, I could feel myself starting to sweat. Had Carter asked me a question? But he wasn't looking at me; he was looking at the marriage therapist, waiting for a response. A second later, she began to rattle on about the value of "I" statements over "you" statements with your spouse. I took a breath and forced my brain to reengage.

That can't happen again, I told myself. Ever, ever, ever.

As soon as I was back in my office, I called Carter.

"You were in a real hurry to leave the set tonight," he said.

"I hate playing this waiting game, wondering what's in store for me next."

"Tell me how I can help."

"You can lean me over a table again and have your way with me."

He came to my apartment this time. We had s.e.x by candlelight, the sandalwood scent filling the air. For that hour, at least, I felt bold, in control. I didn't want it to be over.

"A penny for your thoughts," Carter said afterward.

I hesitated. "I was thinking how nice your b.u.t.t looks by candlelight."

"I mean what's on your mind? Come on, let me in, Robin."

"I thought that was what I'd been doing for the past hour."