"We've already broadened the investigation significantly, and I've decided to pull in the New York City police."

I leaned back against the pillow. I could feel a quiet fury building in me.

"Are you going to share my suspicions about Vicky?" I asked. "Or do you still think I'm letting my imagination get the better of me?"

Oliver narrowed his eyes.

"Do you have any more reason to believe she's responsible?" he asked.

"Nothing concrete, no. But there's a pattern. All the incidents have occurred after she may have needlessly felt threatened by me. The note was at a huge party in my honor, the torn books right after she claimed I poached her guest, the Barbie doll after she thought I was tapping her producers."

"And was there a trigger this week?" he asked.

I scoffed. "You bet. There was an item online saying I was the rising star of the network. I am sure that seriously chapped her a.s.s."

"All this information is very helpful," he said, blank-faced.

After Oliver took his leave, a wave of fatigue walloped me. But I couldn't fall back to sleep. I needed to make calls, to get on top of the mess.

I had no clue where my purse was. While I picked at the breakfast, too nauseated to really eat, I called Keiki from the bedside phone and arranged for her to locate my handbag and my iPhone and bring them to me.

Then I tried Ann. She didn't pick up at her office or on her cell phone. Where was she? I needed her help now more than ever.

No luck reaching Tom, either, though I left a message with his a.s.sistant. I explained that I was hoping to leave the hospital today and would be back to work tomorrow. I had to get back to work. I knew the rumors must be flying, rumors that I'd been smashed or stoned, and I had to prove there was nothing wrong with me. At the same time, the thought of returning there terrified me.

I called Richard, my agent, next. He had tried my cell phone numerous times, he said, and failing to reach me was headed to the hospital. I asked him to hold off and pick me up when I was released. Six hours later, just before I left, the tox report came back. According to my doctor, I'd been given zolpidem, aka Ambien, a higher than normal dose. With a jolt, I remembered Vicky in the makeup room recommending Ambien to Jimmy, one of the hairstylists.

If there were press people outside the hospital, I never saw them; at Richard's suggestion, we sneaked out via the emergency room entrance. It was a strategy I could tell he'd used before, probably with some A-list client who'd OD'ed or been in a bar brawl. Keiki had brought my belongings, and Ann had texted, saying she was dealing with press and promised to call at four.

Richard and I didn't dare talk in the car he'd ordered. Once we were ensconced in my apartment, he made tea and then brought it to the living room. I took a sip but couldn't taste it. "What's the fallout been?" I asked. "Be honest with me."

"Pretty much what you'd expect. Lots of coverage about whether you were drunk or taking drugs. The release from the network went out this morning, and when you're back on the air, it will all blow over. Look what happened with Diane Sawyer. They claimed she looked tipsy that election night, and now everyone's forgotten."

"But she's Diane Sawyer," I said, gripping my head. "Please work with Ann on the press, will you?"

"Of course. But frankly, Robin, what I'm worried about is your safety. It's time they hired private security for you."

"I know. If I'd eaten the entire brownie, I could have been in real trouble."

"It may be misinterpretation on my part, but they seem to be dragging their heels on finding the culprit. You're closer to this than I am. Are they afraid of the potential fallout?"

"Yes," I said, "but it's even more complicated than you realize." I took a breath and told him my suspicions about Vicky.

Richard had put on his reading gla.s.ses when he was making the tea, and he peered over them in shock. "Good grief," he said. "This is staggering."

"I know, and I'm sure Oliver prefers to think it can't possibly be true."

"Robin, I know your instincts are excellent, but let me play devil's advocate. Why would a woman in Vicky's position behave so crazily? Admittedly, her star is tarnished these days, but she's still more or less at the top of her game."

I took another sip of tea. I felt queasy and fuzzy. "I know it's far-fetched. It would have to be out of a weird kind of jealousy."

He pursed his lips together, clearly trying to digest it all. I struggled up from the couch and walked back and forth in the living room, trying to pump oxygen to my brain. "Maybe I'm wrong," I said, shaking my head. "Maybe it's someone who hasn't even occurred to me. Because whoever is doing this is acting irrationally, without any real justification."

Richard was a guy who never seemed to sweat things, but right now his face was pinched with worry. "Okay," he said, bringing his hands down on his knees with a slap. "I'm going to attempt to meet with Oliver this evening. I'm going to demand round-the-clock private security and more people a.s.sisting Oliver."

"Please make sure they know I'm planning to be back tomorrow night. And Richard? Thanks for all your support on this."

After he'd gone, the apartment was utterly silent. I felt stuck in a strange vacuum, disconnected from the universe, but I knew if I went on the Internet, I might stumble on vile comments about myself, and I wasn't mentally prepared to see them.

I checked my email. There were hundreds, it seemed. Some were from the book publishing team and my literary agent. They were concerned, probably freaking in part on their own behalf, worried about what this would do to book sales. I responded, a.s.suring them that everything was fine and that I'd follow up with them in a day or two. There were a couple of emails from people at the show, including one from Alex that stated simply, "Hope you are on the mend." One, too, from my ex, Jake, saying his thoughts were with me. Go to h.e.l.l, I thought.

Nothing at all from Carter. You couldn't say I hadn't been warned. And yet I felt a pang of sadness.

At four, Ann called, as promised. By this point I felt desperate to talk to her.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't swing by the hospital," she said. "But I knew you'd rather have me in the trenches on your behalf. I've been doing nonstop damage control."

I groaned. "Has the press release helped?" I asked.

"It was good to send it out right away. But I'm not going to pretend the situation is anything other than wretched. YouTube has changed everything. You went viral."

I'd a.s.sumed all that, had told myself that it must be wretched, but hearing her say the words-her voice as grim as a freshly dug grave-made my stomach twist painfully. "What can I do?" I pleaded. "Ann, you've got to help me."

"We're going to try to fix this. I promise you."

"Try?" I said. "What do you mean try?"

"We will fix it. But Robin, first and foremost, you need to stay calm. If you appear frantic, it's only going to fuel the rumors."

I felt like a child being reprimanded. "I would hope I could let my guard down with you," I said.

"I know. But for the next few days, as we sort our way through this, I'd prefer if you let me be a hundred percent PR director with you. That's what you need from me now."

It made sense. "Understood," I said. "So what's the plan?"

"Right now I'm mostly fielding calls, reiterating what's in the release. I've kept my comments vague."

I told her that the brownie had contained zolpidem.

"Let's not go out with that. People will wonder why you were taking it in the middle of the day. It's better to make it sound like a reaction."

"Doesn't being vague lead to more bizarre speculation? Shouldn't we announce that someone did this to me?"

"I don't think you want that out there. In this case, the less said, the better, at least until you're back on the air."

"Well, that will be tomorrow night," I said.

I was wrong. Tom called after the show to ask how I was. The first I'd heard from him, but I let that go.

"Better," I told him. "Anxious to be back tomorrow."

"Um, yeah. We want you here, too. But both Potts and Oliver think it's best to hold off until Monday."

I couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "What?" I exclaimed. "No, I can't accept that, Tom."

"Robin, it's for the best. Plus it gives you the weekend to fully recover."

"I don't need any more recovery time. Someone is trying to sabotage me, and we're allowing that person to triumph. Is that for the best, Tom? Is it?"

"Your personal safety is at stake."

"What about my darn reputation? That's in tatters at the moment."

"Robin, I understand how you must be feeling, but this is what Will Oliver is advising."

"Tom-" I was nearly yelling.

"Robin, I know it's hard, but I need you to get a grip. Please."

Oh, that's rich, I thought. You make me feel like the crazy person in this whole freaking mess.

After I hung up, I plopped on the couch again and rocked back and forth, trying to calm down.

The weekend was miserable. Ann had a wedding out of town, and I spent both days alone. I studied the notes for Monday's show and worked up the nerve to surf the Internet, doing my best to avoid anything about me. I scrubbed my kitchen floor and cleaned out a closet. Both nights I crashed early in a weird haze, as if traces of the drug were still snaking through my brain.

Sunday at five, Richard phoned. "Great news," he announced. "Potts's a.s.sistant called and said he and Oliver have something to report and want to meet with us first thing tomorrow."

"Thank G.o.d," I said. I felt euphoric, as if I'd just been given a pa.s.s out of h.e.l.l. "Did they share any details?"

None, Richard said. But five minutes after I hung up, Ann called. Once I told her the news, she admitted she'd just heard it from Potts directly.

"Do you know anything?" I pleaded.

"I'm being kept mostly in the dark," she said. "But they've apparently determined who's behind everything."

"Vicky?"

A pause.

"No, I don't think so," she said finally.

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't get the name out of Potts, but he said it's someone who never would have crossed our minds."

chapter 16.

Ann's words nearly floored me.

"But-but maybe it just never crossed his mind," I said.

"Remember, though? Vicky's name came up that day at Potts's apartment, so she was on his radar, whether he liked the idea or not. No, it's somebody different."

"So I was wrong," I said.

"Don't focus on that," Ann told me. "Focus on the fact that you're finally going to feel safe again. That's all that matters."

After signing off, I lay back on the couch, trying to absorb the news. If Vicky wasn't the person behind all the mayhem, then it was likely someone who worked on my own show, someone I saw every single day. Earlier in the week, in Oliver's office, I'd briefly considered if I should raise Charlotte's name because of how p.r.i.c.kly she'd been acting. Was it her?

Another name suddenly rammed against the inside of my brain. Maddy. She'd been upset with me recently, on more than one occasion. It couldn't be her, though. She was my second cousin.

Whoever it was, the news would be shattering.

Richard called back right before I went to bed to give the location for the meeting. I'd a.s.sumed it would be at Potts's apartment again and that I'd head to my office from there. Instead, it was scheduled for a conference room on the executive floor. Richard and I arranged to meet in the building lobby so we could arrive together.

I told him what I'd learned from Ann.

"Frankly, I'm relieved it's not Vicky," he said. "The lower the profile of the person, the less likely it is for the story to go wide and blow back on your career."

"At least I'll be back on the air tomorrow night," I said.

"Ideally, yes. But depending on what happens tomorrow, they may suggest a different timetable, and we need to be prepared for that."

"What are you talking about?" I knew I sounded abrupt, but my patience was shot.

"Someone's going to end up fired over this," Richard said. "There may even be an arrest. And if that happens, the network may prefer a buffer period between then and when you return to the air, so you aren't mired in the mess."

"I'm not a delicate flower. I can handle it. I just need to be back, before the rumors get any worse."

"Let's try to hear them out, Robin. If they suggest anything we aren't expecting, I'll say we want the day to think it over. That way you and I can discuss matters privately. The key thing is for us to seem cool and collected."

"You're right," I said. "And I'm sorry to sound rattled. I just feel so tense from everything that's happened. And from wondering what name I'm going to hear tomorrow."

"That's understandable. But try to rest now."

I took a long hot bath, hoping it would make me sleepy, but I ended up tossing and turning for hours in bed. When I was finally asleep, I dreamed that in the morning I took the subway instead of the car to work, and the train stalled in the tunnel between stations. Minutes pa.s.sed and then more minutes, and I knew I was going to be horribly late. I tried to pry open the doors and escape from the train. A man watched me, speechless. He was a stranger at first, but then he morphed into my father. When I woke, my cotton camisole was soaked with sweat.

As planned, I met Richard in the lobby. He seemed oddly preoccupied, and as we waited at the front desk for his security pa.s.s, he kept monitoring his BlackBerry.

"Is there an issue with another client that you're trying to deal with?" I asked, not disguising my irritation.