Kate White - Hush

It was almost four. Before going to Levin’s office, Lake returned the folders of articles she’d been reading to the storage room in the back of the clinic. She was pretty certain she’d studied every press clipping and journal article filed there, but just to be sure, she thumbed through the drawer once more. With her mind on everything but the presentation, she needed all the inspiration she could get.

Finding nothing she hadn’t already seen, she pulled the lower drawer open. It seemed to contain mostly old correspondence. Just as she was about to close it, she noticed a hanging file with the word “Archer” in the tab, and Lake could see pages of a magazine peeking out. She tugged the file out of the drawer. At a glance she saw that it was an article about the fertility business. She slapped the file closed and took it with her.

By the time she arrived in Levin’s office, the doctors had already gathered there-Sherman, Hoss, Steve, and Matt Perkins. Brie was there, too, perched on the windowsill.

“We’ve had two calls from reporters since I spoke to you,” Levin said grimly to Lake as she sat down. “The Daily News and Channel 7.”

“We should have seen something like this coming,” Sherman said. “You pick someone flashy and this is what happens, isn’t it?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Dan,” Levin said. “The fact that he was a good-looking guy doesn’t mean we should have expected he’d end up murdered.”

“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Sherman said. “We finally decide to get serious about marketing and we end up with a mess like this.”

“It doesn’t have to turn into a mess for you,” Lake interjected. “But you do have to do some damage control.”

“ Damage control?” Brie asked curtly. “You make it sound as if we’ve done something wrong.”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying,” Lake said. “This is an external situation beyond your control, but it has the potential to impact your business. I know a PR person who specializes in crisis management. I’d suggest bringing her onboard briefly. She-”

“But isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing?” Brie said. “PR?”

“Please, Brie, let her finish,” Levin said. Brie straightened her back, looking irritated.

“I’ve got a PR person on retainer as part of the marketing plan,” Lake said, “but she’s not an expert at handling a crisis, and neither am I. You need a real pro here. The woman I’m suggesting doesn’t come cheap, but I highly recommend that you hire her.”

“I think it’s essential,” Hoss said. “We don’t have a choice.”

It was agreed that Lake would make the call. After that, there was thirty more minutes of anxious talk-about dealing with patient questions, upsets to the schedule, and just getting through the next few days. Levin and Hoss dominated the discussion, while Sherman mostly shook his head in disgust. Steve and Matt Perkins looked shell-shocked and spoke up only when they were asked specific questions. Finally, Levin suggested that everyone go home and try their best to relax.

“I also recommend that you not discuss this with anyone outside your immediate families,” Lake added.

Everyone streamed out of the office, and as Lake followed them to the door, Levin called to her.

“Do you think this woman can really help?” he asked, rising from the desk.

“Absolutely,” Lake said. “She’s handled situations far worse.”

He crossed the room, buttoning his jacket. She saw him glance at the file in her hands.

“Where did you get that?” he asked sharply.

“From the file drawer in the storage room-I’ve been reading all the clippings.”

“Well, that’s not one you need,” he said, grabbing the file from her hand.

IT WAS JUST before six when Lake finally arrived home. Following the awkward encounter with Levin, she’d returned to the small conference room and left a message for Hayden Culbreth, the crisis guru she’d recommended. Then, totally spent, she’d packed up and hailed a cab for the West Side.

After tossing down her bags, she sank into one of the arm-chairs in her living room. She began to sob. Sensing something was wrong, Smokey leapt into her lap. As he nuzzled her chin, Lake stroked him and blinked back tears. Her eyes swept the living room, with its comforting shelves of books and pretty landscape paintings. What she’d told Molly and Keaton was true. Though the past week or so of her life could hardly be described as blissful, she had started to feel at peace again and hopeful about her future. But that all changed in an instant. Everything in her life was in jeopardy now-her kids, her work, her future. She’d given in to a desperate hunger for approval and connection-and to her own raw desire-and because of that she might end up losing custody of her kids. There was even a chance she’d be arrested for murder.

After forcing herself up off the chair, she left a second message for Hayden. Thirty minutes later, as Lake stared at a frozen slab of vegetable lasagna, knowing she had to eat but wondering how she could summon any appetite, Hayden returned the call. Lake outlined the situation to her, and made an urgent pitch for her to come on board as a consultant.

“I’m totally swamped right now,” Hayden confessed in her Alabama drawl, “but I can’t turn this down. I’ve done damage control on everything from drug companies that sold tainted drugs to a CEO who used company funds to rent a water park for his kid’s birthday-but never a murder . That’s very, very sexy.”

“So that’s a yes?” Lake said.

“Yes, but we need to hit the ground running. This is going to be big and move fast-it’ll probably be the plot on Law and Order next week. Can you arrange for me to meet everyone at eight tomorrow morning?”

Lake assured her it wouldn’t be a problem. Next she phoned Levin.

“That’s terrific, Lake,” he said. “I’ll let Dr. Sherman know. I think this first meeting should just be the senior team.”

His tone was almost obsequious; she wondered if he was trying to make up for rudely grabbing the file out of her hand earlier.

Next she needed to summon the energy to write the kids. She skipped the stories and riddles and scribbled a simple message:

“I can’t wait to see you both on Saturday and meet your new friends,” she wrote. “I’ll be there right at ten.”

She wanted to add more but she was already feeling weirdly fraudulent, reminiscent of when Jack was beginning to withdraw and she’d had to act normal in front of the kids. What would she say if she were being totally honest? “Mommy may be implicated in a grisly murder, so there’s a chance I won’t be able to come after all”?

As she slipped the paper into the fax machine, she wondered how she was going to handle bumping into Jack at the camp. Prior to her recent conversation with Hotchkiss, she’d hardly relished seeing him there, but now the idea seemed unbearable.

She nuked the lasagna and pushed it around on a plate as she drained a glass of wine. She tried to calm herself but she kept picturing Hull and McCarty at their precinct desks, searching their notes for clues and combing through evidence reports. The crime-scene people would have lifted her fingerprints but because hers weren’t in the system, there would be no match. Her DNA would be meaningless, too. But if she gave the cops any reason to truly suspect her, they could take her fingerprints and her DNA and then they would know she’d been in Keaton’s bed.

Closing her eyes, she let her head drop into her hands. In her mind she could see the horrible, oozing gash from one side of Keaton’s neck to the other. Whoever had slashed him must have been overwhelmed with rage. So who had Keaton managed to infuriate? Was it a woman he’d bedded and then dumped? He’d told Lake that he’d bought his place six months ago; he was likely visiting the city even before consulting with the clinic. So this fury could have been building for weeks. It was a fury that would have been directed at her, too, if she hadn’t been safely asleep on the terrace. She let out a moan as she contemplated what her fate would have been.