"What's he like?"

"A real good guy," he said, setting her yogurt down. "Twenty-two. Now at Columbia Law. How about some sliced banana with that? As you can see, I'm flush with those. My housekeeper clearly thinks I'm suffering from a pota.s.sium deficiency."

She smiled again and poured a mug of coffee for herself. "No, this is fine."

After toasting and b.u.t.tering the m.u.f.fin, he slid the plate in front of her and pulled out a chair for himself at the table. This is all so weird, she thought. He's the only man besides Jack that I've sat across the breakfast table from in nearly fifteen years.

"We need to make a plan," he said firmly. Suddenly the no-nonsense Kit Archer was back.

"I know-and I have to get home," she said. "I need to feed my poor cat." And yet what if the man from the park was keeping an eye on her building now?

"Where's your place?"

"The Upper West Side."

"I thought I'd drive home with you and make sure you got back okay. I'll head to work from there."

"Look, you don't-"

"Stop. There's no way I'm going to just let you go home alone-not after what happened last night."

She felt relieved knowing he'd be with her.

"Thank you."

"That's just step number one. From there you need to call this nurse you mentioned-as soon as possible. But is there any chance she could be involved?"

Lake shook her head. "At this point I don't feel sure of anything, but Maggie seems like a pretty guileless person."

"Okay, then, explain to her what happened to you. Let her know how serious the situation is and that you need her help."

"I'll do my best to convince her."

"Good. How long has she worked there?"

"About three years, I think. She's the one Keaton had given his keys to so she could pick up his mail."

"It's not going to be easy to get her to betray her bosses," Archer said. He tapped his lips lightly with his fist. "I wish we had some kind of proof to offer her-a way to legitimize your story."

"I think I have something," Lake said softly. "Not actual proof, but a strong indication that the clinic used Alexis's embryos on someone else-and is doing it with other patients as well."

He raised his chin, expectant.

"I think I know what the letters mean."

"You're kidding," he said, astonished. "Tell me."

"It seems so obvious now, but it wasn't until I was lying in the dark last night and saw them in my mind that I figured it out. I think the first letters refer to hair color-BR for brown, for brown, BL BL for blond, for blond, R R for red, and for red, and BK BK for black, maybe, though I never saw that one. The second set is for eye color- for black, maybe, though I never saw that one. The second set is for eye color-b for blue, for blue, br br for brown again, for brown again, g g for green." for green."

Archer stared at her, incredulous.

"Geez. Because that way-"

"-they do the best job of matching. Keeping track of a couple's coloring isn't necessary for medical purposes, and even if it was, why be so cryptic about it? But if the clinic is stealing embryos and transferring them to other women, it would be important to have that information. You'd want to make sure that the baby had coloring similar to its parents. The first indication that a child might not be yours would be if the coloring were totally off. From what I know it's fairly rare for two blue-eyed parents to have a brown-eyed child-and many people just a.s.sume it's not possible at all."

"Right-blue eyes are a recessive trait."

"If the coloring is really off, a couple might start asking questions. They might even get a DNA test for their peace of mind. And if there's a discrepancy, they're going to panic and demand an explanation."

"But what happens when the kid gets older and his features don't fit so well with his parents'?"

"If the coloring works, it may not seem like such a big deal. And by then there's total attachment. Even if the parents have reason to be suspicious, they may not want to rock the boat."

"Yeah, let sleeping dogs lie. And you just figured all this out last night, lying on my couch?"

Lake smiled. "I think my subconscious has been working on it for a while. When I spoke to Alexis, she made a point of saying that the baby she saw with Melanie Turnbull matched Melanie's coloring perfectly. That comment has been playing in my brain somewhere ever since."

Archer shook his head in disgust. "And all just to improve their success rates. Do you think all the doctors could be in on it?"

She thought of Steve and felt a pang of worry.

"I don't know," she said. She took a sip of coffee. "It's possible that only a few people are involved and doing it without the others being aware. The nurses, for instance, could be totally in the dark."

"Wouldn't they be curious about the codes?"

"They might not notice them because they only appear on the basic information sheet that patients fill out in the beginning, not on the medical forms that get used later. Once a patient is under treatment, the focus would be on notations made about procedures, that sort of thing."

"You need to persuade Maggie to look through a bunch of the files and see how many have these codes. Of course, if she's in on it, this will be the tip-off that you know as much as they suspect you do."

"And if she's not and they catch her going through everyone's records, this could put her in danger," Lake said.

"Warn her that she has to be extremely careful."

"Okay," Lake said. She glanced down at the table, thinking about all of this. What would be the best way to approach Maggie? She would probably have better luck if she did it face-to-face.

"Speaking of danger," Archer said, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced back across the table. He had leaned back in his chair and was studying her intently. "Tell me what you know about Keaton."

Lake's heart jumped. Where was this going?

"Wh-what do you mean?" she asked.

"How do you think his death fits in with all this? Did he learn something he wasn't supposed to know?"

Lake slowly let out a breath in relief.

"I've wondered the same thing," she said. "We know that anyone from the clinic could have gotten into his apartment by using the set of keys from Maggie's drawer."

She wished she could tell him about seeing Melanie Turnbull's name on Keaton's table. Or at the very least that Keaton was going to bail on the clinic. Maybe she could say that Keaton had let that fact slip during conversation. But that would only arouse Archer's curiosity-and she couldn't give him even a hint of the whole truth.

"Possibly," he said. He finished his coffee and set the mug down. "But as much as I don't like coincidences, there's a chance that Keaton's death is just that."

"What do you mean?"

"I talked to some police contacts I have. They've got their own ideas about what went down."

"Oh?" Lake said, almost in a whisper.

"Keaton had a lady caller the night he was killed. There was a torn condom wrapper on the floor next to his bed. Which explains why the cops seemed interested in you. They're gonna look at every woman he crossed paths with."

Lake looked down, running her thumb along the handle of her mug.

"I can see your mind spinning," Archer said. "Got any ideas?"

"No-no, I don't," she sputtered. "I mean, I guess a woman could have killed him. Someone he was seeing. Is that what you think?"

"That's one possibility," Archer said. "Or... he had s.e.x with this woman and, lucky for her, she left right afterward. And then after she was gone, someone from the clinic-or hired by the clinic-snuck in and did the job. Maybe it was even the guy who attacked you last night." he had s.e.x with this woman and, lucky for her, she left right afterward. And then after she was gone, someone from the clinic-or hired by the clinic-snuck in and did the job. Maybe it was even the guy who attacked you last night."

"There's so much to consider," Lake said weakly. It was all she could manage to say. She wondered if Archer suspected something and was toying with her. She needed to derail this conversation as soon as possible. She quickly drained her coffee mug and announced that she would grab her things from the living room.

They were in her car ten minutes later. Archer offered to drive and she gladly let him. Whatever sporadic calm she'd felt on and off at Archer's apartment was shot now-in part because she was headed home but also because of the breakfast-table conversation about Keaton. The traffic didn't help: the blaring horns on Sixth Avenue made her want to jump out of her skin. She barely spoke to Archer on the twenty-five-minute drive to the Upper West Side.

"I think I should come in with you for a minute," Archer said as they walked up the driveway of her parking garage. "Just to be sure everything is okay in your apartment."

Once again she didn't fight him. Given the mystery doorbell ring from the other night, she knew someone could easily gain access to her floor.

As they approached her building, she looked around. There were a dozen people hurrying along different points on the block, probably all bound for work. Nothing ominous, at least that she could see.

The doorman, Ray, was accepting a delivery of dry cleaning, but that didn't stop him from greeting her and giving Archer a discreet once-over. She worried briefly if having Archer come up might be grist for Jack's case, but she figured it was okay if he only stayed a few minutes.

"Does everything seem all right to you?" Archer asked as they stepped into the apartment.

"Yes-at first glance."

"Why don't I take a quick look around-if that's okay with you?"

"Thank you, I'd appreciate that," she said.

At that moment Smokey shot down the hall toward her.

"Geez," Archer said. "What's happened to this poor cat?"

"Someone did that to him."

"Last night?" Archer exclaimed.

"No, no. Before." Lake quickly told him the story, as well as about the catnip and the night the doorbell rang. Archer listened with his brow furrowed, not interrupting.

"Okay, I need the actual timeline for all of this," he said when she'd finished. "When was the cat shaved?"

"Last weekend."

"And the catnip showed up in your purse...?"

"On Wednesday."

"This isn't making much sense to me. The office manager-her name's Brie?-caught you going through the files a day or two ago. Since then you were given the cold shoulder at your presentation and you were attacked when you were supposed to be meeting with a former patient. That That makes some kind of sense. But why was your cat shaved last weekend?" makes some kind of sense. But why was your cat shaved last weekend?"

"I-I don't know," Lake stammered. "Levin knew I'd found the file with your name. Maybe he already thought I was beginning to snoop around. Maybe he wanted to warn me off."

"But how were you supposed to guess that having your cat shaved meant to cool it at the clinic? That takes a h.e.l.l of a lot of translation. No, there's a piece missing here..."

He swept a hand through his hair and stared off to the side, thinking. Lake could barely contain her agitation. She didn't want him thinking about this. Because if he did, it wouldn't be long before he saw the full timeline in his mind and realized that the incidents had begun shortly after the murder itself. And that she was somehow deeply connected to it.

"Should we look around now?" she asked. "I don't want to hold you up."

"Sure," he said, but when his eyes caught hers she saw that they were questioning. She could tell he sensed she was holding back.

With Lake leading, they ducked into each room in the apartment. Nothing seemed amiss.

"I can't thank you enough for this, Kit," she said as they left the family room. She realized it was the first time she'd used his first name. "I honestly don't know what I would have done without you."

"I'm just glad you decided to call me. So when do you plan to talk to Maggie?"

"Around twelve-thirty. She goes to the same spot for lunch most days and I think I'll just wait outside for her."

"Call me right afterward, okay?" he said, walking toward the door. "And call me if you feel in any kind of danger."

Their eyes met and he held her gaze for a moment.

"Thanks again for everything," she said.

As soon as she'd closed the door behind him, she flicked the dead bolt and put the chain on the door. It was just after nine. Though Maggie was her priority today, there was someone else she needed to talk to: her lawyer. Hotchkiss was probably already at his desk. She dialed the number and his secretary put her through.

"I'm not sure if this will help my custody situation or not," she told him, "but I'm pretty sure my husband is having an affair with one of my friends."

"Interesting," he said dryly. "How did you learn this?"

"I happened to see him going into her building last night."

"He could have been visiting someone else who lives there."

"Yes-but she's also been unusually inquisitive lately about anything having to do with Jack and the divorce."

"It's worth checking out," he said after a pause. "And we may be able to use it as a bargaining chip. Remember that I said we might want to hire an investigator? I think we should at this point."

Lake sighed. She couldn't believe it was coming to this. She agreed and Hotchkiss said he would have an a.s.sociate make the arrangements. Then he warned her not to tip her hand.

"This isn't going to be easy," he said, "but you'll have to act the same-to both of them. If they suspect you're wise to them, they'll alter their behavior. And there will be nothing for us to investigate."