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 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. 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. "h.e.l.lo, 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 G.o.d, 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 did this to you? she wondered for the umpteenth time. And why? 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. LAKE ASKED. She'd heard him, but his words had nearly knocked her over. 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."

"Of course," she said, as friendly as she could muster. "Please come in. Can I get you some water-or something else to drink?"

"That won't be necessary," Hull said brusquely. His tone implied her friendliness was wasted on them.

She led them to the living room and gestured for them to sit down. They each took an armchair, which left her the couch. As she perched on the edge of it, she saw McCarty take in the Uno box. Did it look calculated, she wondered, like a prop in a play?

"You mentioned the other day that you'd been with the clinic for just a short time," McCarty said, flipping open his notebook. "How long exactly?"

She lowered her eyes, trying to calculate. It should have been easy to remember, but she was so distracted she could barely think. As she struggled she could hear Hull's breathing grow louder, as if he were prodding her with a stick.

"Um, sorry," she said. "Sometimes one day just seems to blur into the next. This is my fourth week."

"Have you got a calendar here?" McCarty asked. "To double-check it?"

"No, I'm sure of it-I've been there just over three weeks. I've never worked a whole day there, though. I usually go in for a few hours in the morning-to interview the doctors, read through material, that sort of thing."

She caught herself overexplaining. Stop saying so much, she scolded herself.

"Anyone there you've gotten to know very well?" McCarty asked.

"Not really. I've chatted a bit with Maggie, one of the nurses...and the medical a.s.sistant, Rory. Also Harry Kline, the therapist. We grabbed a cup of coffee together the other day."

She felt she should tell them that-they might learn about it from Harry and it would seem odd for Lake to have omitted it.

"What about the doctors?"

"Well, like I said, I've interviewed them, and there was the dinner-but that's all."

"What's your impression of Dr. Hoss? Have you spent much time with her?"

Why were they asking about Hoss? she wondered.

"No more than anyone else," Lake said. "We talked for a few hours one morning about embryology and some of the procedures she's been doing in the lab."

"So you haven't gotten to know any of the doctors personally?"

"No. Oh, wait, I'm forgetting Dr. Salman," she added clumsily, as if she'd just knocked over a gla.s.s of water. "He's the one who suggested me for the job. His sister and I are old friends from college and I'd known him for years, but not super well."

Hull sighed, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"Is that it, then? You're not suddenly going to remember that someone there is your long lost cousin?"

"No," she said. She wished she could have walked across the room and squashed something in his face.

McCarty cleared his throat, directing attention back his way. She remembered then that she hadn't yet switched on the air conditioning and the apartment was warm, almost stifling. The sheen on McCarty's face was practically glistening now. She wondered if she should jump up and turn it on now-but that might only encourage them to stay longer.

"I'm not sure if you've heard the news," McCarty said, "but it turns out that Maggie Donohue had a set of Dr. Keaton's keys in her desk drawer. We're trying to determine if anyone saw them there and took them."

"Yes, I heard. It's so upsetting."

"What is?" Hull asked.

"That someone might have taken them," she said. "That someone from the clinic could be...the killer."

"Does it surprise you?"

"Well, yes. I didn't have much contact with Dr. Keaton, of course, but Maggie told me that everyone seemed to like him."

"What do you mean, 'of course'?" Hull asked bluntly.

"Excuse me?" she said. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest.

"You said of course of course you didn't have much contact with him." you didn't have much contact with him."

"Well, like I mentioned, I never worked a full day there. And...since he hadn't officially joined yet, I hadn't interviewed him."

"Did you ever see anyone other than Ms. Donohue going into the drawer?"

"No, not that I recall."

Hull eyed her as if he found her idiotic.

"Well, if you remember anything, will you let us know?" he said. There was the hint of a smirk on his face.

"Of course," she said, forcing a polite smile.

"And you never saw Keaton have a confrontation with anyone there?" McCarty asked.

"No."

If only she could reveal what Keaton had told her about the snag-but she didn't dare. They would know instantly that she'd been more familiar with him than she had let on.

"How about several months ago?" Hull asked.

"What?" she asked.

"In the late winter. When Dr. Keaton was at the clinic before."

"But I've only been at the clinic for a few weeks," she said, carefully.

"You weren't consulting when Dr. Keaton was there back in March?"

"No." Her head was spinning. It seemed like they were trying to lay traps for her, leading her to the edge of a cliff.

"Let's switch gears a minute," McCarty said. "You mentioned the other day that you and Dr. Keaton had spoken about the clinic he'd worked at in L.A. Did he say anything particular about it?"

Where was this going? she wondered fretfully.

"We only spoke about it for a few moments. He said that they had some great marketing strategies."

"No complaints?" McCarty said. "Nothing negative?"

"No, nothing like that."

The heat was starting to get to her her now. She could feel trickles of sweat running down the back of her neck, one chasing the other. But she just sat there, her posture as straight as possible, waiting for the next question. None came. McCarty thumbed back through endless pages of his notebook, perhaps for the notes he'd taken when she was first interviewed. Was he trying to find a contradiction, some new way to trip her up? Hull just sat there, staring at her. She'd heard about this technique. It was called the pregnant pause, wasn't it?-or the let-them-stew-in-their-own-juices-and-then-see-what-they-spill strategy? Give it time and she would confess to anything, like operating a terrorist cell out of this very apartment. now. She could feel trickles of sweat running down the back of her neck, one chasing the other. But she just sat there, her posture as straight as possible, waiting for the next question. None came. McCarty thumbed back through endless pages of his notebook, perhaps for the notes he'd taken when she was first interviewed. Was he trying to find a contradiction, some new way to trip her up? Hull just sat there, staring at her. She'd heard about this technique. It was called the pregnant pause, wasn't it?-or the let-them-stew-in-their-own-juices-and-then-see-what-they-spill strategy? Give it time and she would confess to anything, like operating a terrorist cell out of this very apartment.

"You have kids?" Hull said finally.

"Yes. They-" She was about to mention they were away at camp but realized it would be insane to reveal that they hadn't been around last week. "They're nine and eleven."