With her free hand, Lake ran her hand roughly through her hair. This was exactly what she'd hoped for. She had to see those files-and she owed it to Rory to make sure she was safe.

"Rory, why don't I come to your place? I'll take the files so you don't have to worry about them."

"Are you sure? I'm all the way up in Bedford Hills. It's over an hour north of the city. I can make photocopies tomorrow and figure out the best way to get them back in the drawers."

"I'm actually upstate now-a ways north of you, even. I can leave in a few minutes. Just tell me the address and I'll use my GPS."

"Well, if you really wouldn't mind, that would be great," Rory said. "I just feel so nervous."

Rory rattled off the address and Lake said that it would take her at least an hour to get there. She told Rory to lock all the doors and windows and to call her on her cell if she had any problem. And if she felt in danger to call 911.

By five forty-five the bus still hadn't arrived. Lake was torn about what to do. If she split now, Will would be upset, and yet she was anxious to get to Rory's. Finally, at six, just as she was firing up the engine of the car, an old yellow school bus waddled into the parking lot. Will was one of the first to trip down the steps, and after scanning the parking lot for his mother's car, he bounded toward it and climbed in. A counselor waited outside.

Will's silky blond hair was still damp and his cheek bore the crease from a nap on the bus. He seemed more than happy to see her, and also hyper, on a sugar high from the junk food he'd probably consumed at the water park.

"I went on the log ride five times, Mom. My clothes were soakin'."

"It was fun, huh?"

"Yeah, awesome."

"And what about tonight? What's planned for later?"

"We're having pizza. They ordered like a hundred pies."

"Excellent."

"Yeah, we were supposed to have a cookout but it's gonna rain. There's gonna be this big thunderstorm."

As he glanced out of the car window, clearly wondering what he was missing up the hill, Lake stole a nervous look at her watch.

"Why don't I let you catch up with your friends now?" she said. "I just wanted to be sure to say hi."

"Okay, bye, Mom." He offered her a tight hug and flashed his crooked grin. "Tell Smokey I said hi."

She'd been on the road just ten minutes when the rain started, big fat drops that pelted the roof of the car and seemed to explode on the windshield. She needed to call Rory with an update but she didn't dare take a hand off the wheel. At the first chance she pulled off the road and into the parking lot of one of the caboose restaurants Jack had loved to mock. It was growing dark, and through the streams of rain the blue and white lights from the restaurant sign undulated eerily. This was one of the times of year she'd never loved being up here-when the days grew shorter and there was an utter forlornness in the air.

Rory picked up on the first ring. There had been no more hang-ups, she said, but with night coming, she was feeling more and more scared. Lake explained how far behind schedule she was.

As she pulled onto the road again, barely able to see, a sense of dread began to build in her. What if someone had had seen Rory take the files? What if Levin-or whoever-decided to dispatch the man with the knife to retrieve them? Lost in her thoughts, Lake jumped in her seat when a clap of thunder rocked the car. seen Rory take the files? What if Levin-or whoever-decided to dispatch the man with the knife to retrieve them? Lost in her thoughts, Lake jumped in her seat when a clap of thunder rocked the car.

The rain was coming down in torrents now and at times she had to plunge the car through huge pools of water that had formed on the blacktop of the two-lane road. Things were better on the interstate, and yet more than a few cars had pulled onto the shoulder to wait out the storm. Lake kept going, feeling she had no choice. As it was, she wouldn't reach Rory's until after eight.

Three-quarters of the way there, the rain stopped as quickly as it had started. She picked up the pace and the GPS recalculated her arrival time. When she was just fifteen minutes away, she peered through the windshield, surprised at what she saw. Rather than the suburban sprawl she'd expected, she was in horse country. The roads were lined with split-rail fences, and occasionally through the dark she caught sight of a huge house set back from the road and lit up like a cruise ship. She remembered that Rory had said she lived in an old gatehouse.

As soon as she pulled into the driveway she understood why Rory felt so afraid. The house was down a long driveway and there wasn't another house in view-not even the main estate house that the gatehouse must have once been a part of.

After turning the car off, Lake twisted her body and surveyed the area. Rory's gatehouse, she saw, was two stories and made of stone. The first floor was brightly lit and a security light above the small garage illuminated the driveway. The garage door was open, showing the front of a small car b.u.t.ting out. There was no sign of anyone outside, and yet Lake knew that with all the trees and hedges on the property, it would be easy for someone to lurk in the shadows.

Before climbing out of the car, Lake called Rory's home phone number.

"It's me out here," Lake said when Rory picked up. "I didn't want to scare you."

"Okay, I'll meet you at the door."

As Lake tore across the yard, the muddy ground sucked at her clogs. Rory flung open the front door just as Lake reached the top step of the porch.

Rory's blond hair was held back in a simple ponytail today. She was wearing stretchy black capris, obviously pregnancy pants, and a matching maternity tunic. It was the first time Lake had seen her without makeup, and on her left cheek there was a patch of inflamed skin that looked as if it had been picked at worriedly.

"I'm so sorry," Lake said as Rory relocked the door. "Because of the rain I had to drive at about fifty most of the way. Are you okay?"

"I just got another hang-up," Rory said. She shook her head back and forth quickly, as if that would make everything stop. "It's like they're trying to figure out if I'm here or not."

"Okay, let's talk about what to do."

"Why don't we go into the kitchen? I can make us some tea."

"All the other doors are locked-and the windows?" Lake asked.

"Yes," Rory said. "Everything."

Lake followed Rory from the hall into a living/dining room. It appeared as if the interior had been gutted to make the s.p.a.ce more modern. The walls of the living room were white, with a wall of sleek built-in bookshelves and cabinets. The couch and armchair were covered with white canvas and the only color in the room was from the blue-and-green area rug and the blue throw pillows on the couch. There wasn't a single picture on the wall.

"Like I told you, we haven't been here all that long," Rory said, as if guessing Lake's thoughts. "We're still fixing it up."

Rory led her into a small, pristine kitchen. It was clear from the gleaming pots hanging from the wall and the shelves of spices that Rory liked to cook. Lake remembered Rory saying she'd made jams.

"Do you want milk in your tea?" Rory asked, filling the kettle.

"No, thank you." Lake said. She glanced around, wondering where the files were.

"Let me just get this started and then I'll show you the files," Rory said, as if she'd read her mind again.

"Good," Lake said. "I also think we need to figure out a place for you to stay until your husband gets back."

Rory's shoulders drooped. "But where where?" she asked. "I don't want to stay with a stranger."

"You could stay with me," Lake said.

"But you said someone tried to kill you."

"At least I have a doorman. I think you'll feel safer there."

Lake peered out the window. They were on the other side of the house from the garage and all she could see was total blackness. There was no way she could leave Rory alone here. Off in the distance, a bolt of lightning sliced the sky. From inside she could hear drops of rain begin to spatter in the yard.

"Do you really think someone was outside the storage room?" Lake asked. She wondered if Rory, in her anxiety, was being paranoid.

"Yes-I could hear that kind of squishy sound people's footsteps make on the carpet."

"Who was still at the clinic then?"

"Dr. Levin. Dr. Sherman was probably in his office but I never saw him, but I did see Dr. Hoss in the lab along with one of the other embryologists. Brie was around. Oh, and Dr. Kline."

"Dr. Kline?" Lake asked, surprised. She'd thought Harry had told her in the park that he wouldn't be returning to the clinic that day.

"Yes," Rory said. The kettle screeched and she flicked off the burner. "He walked out with me and asked what I was doing this weekend. He told me I should probably savor my time alone since I wouldn't have much afterward. Why don't I get the files now? I have to let the tea steep."

Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky and a clap of thunder followed a second later. The cell of the new storm was moving their way. Rory walked back into the living room, and as Lake took a seat at the kitchen table, she saw Rory pull a handful of files from a cabinet.

"I didn't have time to go through very many," Rory said, returning. "But at least I found some." She handed Lake the stack, all still in their hanging files.

The one on top was the Hunt file and Lake slowly opened it. On the basic information form, by both Alexis and Brian's names, was a faint scribble of letters: BLg BLg and and BLb BLb. The other charts, as Rory had promised, all had the codes, too, and it was clear Lake had been right-they all corresponded to hair and eye colors.

"Had you ever noticed these notations before?" Lake asked.

"No, but I rarely look at that page," Rory said. "It's just for basic information-nothing that matters so much in their treatment."

As Lake studied the files, Rory set their cups of tea in front of them. A b.u.t.ter cookie was cradled next to the cup in each saucer.

"I hope you don't mind herbal tea. Once I got pregnant I threw out everything with caffeine so I wouldn't be tempted."

"No, that's fine, I'm wired enough," Lake said distractedly and took a sip. There was honey in the tea, which she hated, but she didn't have the heart to tell Rory.

"Are the letters a code-something that has to do with the embryos?" Rory asked.

"Yes. I can't explain right now, but I will later, once I get more information."

"Do you really think this is why Dr. Keaton was killed?"

Lake tore her eyes away from the files and looked at Rory.

"I think it's definitely possible. If Dr. Keaton learned about this and threatened to expose the clinic, that would be a very big motive."

Rory seemed to look through her, distracted, and Lake wondered what she was thinking. Suddenly she was jostled by a thought. She recalled an odd little pause when she'd spoken to Rory about Maggie's desk.

"Do you have any ideas, Rory?" she asked. "Did you ever see anyone near Maggie's desk?"

"Well," Rory said. She sat down at the table across from Lake and took a long, slow sip from her cup.

"Rory, please," Lake urged. "Tell me."

"I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. But one day-it was just kind of odd. I saw Dr. Kline there. He doesn't usually come by the nurses' station."

"Harry?"

"Um-hm. And he seemed kind of surprised when I came up behind him. He said he was looking for a pencil sharpener."

Lake felt as if someone had shoved her from behind.

"I almost told you the other day," Rory added. "But I didn't want to upset you. I can tell you...you know-like Harry."

"What do you mean?" Lake asked.

"I thought you two might even be dating."

Lake shifted her body in surprise. Clearly Rory had picked up the interest on Harry's part and thought it went both ways.

"I like Harry as a person," Lake said. "But we aren't dating."

"Oh, my mistake, then. I think Harry's great, too. I know he had problems with Dr. Keaton, but I can't imagine him ever hurting him."

"What do you mean, 'problems'?" Lake asked. The hair on the back of her neck lifted.

"Because of what happened with his daughter-and Dr. Keaton."

28.

LAKE STARED ACROSS the kitchen table at Rory. She'd heard the words but it seemed as if they'd been said out of order and she could barely make sense of them. the kitchen table at Rory. She'd heard the words but it seemed as if they'd been said out of order and she could barely make sense of them.

"I'm not understanding at all," Lake said. "What does Harry's daughter have to do with Dr. Keaton?"

Rory c.o.c.ked her head and lowered her eyes, as if she felt qualms about sharing the information.

"Please, Rory," Lake urged.

"Okay," she said, looking back up. "His daughter did a kind of internship during her spring break in March. Her name's Allison. I guess she's a biology major or something and she wanted to learn about embryology and help out-though I'm not sure what help anyone thought she could be. Well, that's when Dr. Keaton was consulting the first time around, and she was very, very flirty with him. You could tell it made him uncomfortable, and when he ignored her she got mad. She told her father Dr. Keaton was the one being flirty and then Harry became very upset with Dr. Keaton."

Lake couldn't believe this. Harry had made no reference to the situation when he'd spoken of his daughter. Why not at least mention that she'd worked at the clinic?

"How did Dr. Kline feel when it was announced that Keaton was joining the clinic?"

Rory lowered her eyes again and took another long sip of tea.

"I don't think very good," she said softly. "I have a feeling it's why he wasn't around that day. It's like Dr. Levin had told him that if he didn't like it, tough luck."

Lake's mind began to reel. Flirting didn't seem like much of a motive for murder. But what if Rory didn't know the whole story? Maybe Keaton had had been interested in Harry's daughter. Maybe he'd even seduced her. He'd been so slick-it wasn't hard to imagine. And then, in a rage, Harry had killed him. Perhaps this explained why Harry had tried so hard to tune into what Lake was feeling-he'd suspected she'd been with Keaton and knew something that could incriminate him. Maybe he was the one who'd shaved Smokey and put the catnip in her bag. But then who was the man who had forced her to jump in the river? Was the embryo stealing a whole separate issue? been interested in Harry's daughter. Maybe he'd even seduced her. He'd been so slick-it wasn't hard to imagine. And then, in a rage, Harry had killed him. Perhaps this explained why Harry had tried so hard to tune into what Lake was feeling-he'd suspected she'd been with Keaton and knew something that could incriminate him. Maybe he was the one who'd shaved Smokey and put the catnip in her bag. But then who was the man who had forced her to jump in the river? Was the embryo stealing a whole separate issue?

Lake took a quick sip of tea to steady her nerves. "Have you told the police this?" she asked bluntly.

"The police police? You don't really think Harry killed Dr. Keaton, do you? Just because of what his daughter said?"

Lake didn't answer. She was trying to get a grip on their situation. Harry had asked Rory what she was doing this weekend. He knew she was home alone. She'd have to convince Rory that staying at her apartment was the right thing to do-at least for a night or two.