Kate White - Hush

She knew she couldn’t let him go upstairs. He might pick up a hint that something was terribly wrong in her life.

“I’m not even going up right now,” she said. “I just realized I left a folder at a client’s and I need to go back for it.”

“Look, I really need those papers today.”

Damn, she thought, if I don’t say yes, he’ll tell the psychologist I’m uncooperative.

“All right,” she said, keeping her voice flat. “Why don’t you tell me where the papers are and I’ll bring them down.”

He grimaced and shook his head.

“I’m not exactly sure where I left them. I’m going to have to come up and hunt around a little.”

She took a deep breath.

“For God’s sake, Lake, I’m not going to bite ,” he said. “It’ll take all of five minutes.”

She felt a sudden urge to shove him down on the sidewalk.

“Fine,” she conceded.

They rode up the elevator in silence. Now that she was standing closer to him, she could see that Jack’s slightly round, boyish face was more tanned than it had been in years, and his dark blond hair was coarse-the kind of coarseness that comes from lots of sun and salt water. Obviously he’d been true to his pledge to live large this summer, to-how had he put it?- go big or go home . She felt a wave of disgust. He might in fact feel entitled to his new major-player lifestyle, but the deep tan and flip-flops came across to her as desperation.

“I’m just curious,” she finally said to him, still trying to keep her voice even. “Were you just going to wait outside the building until I came home?”

“You mean was I stalking you, Lake-is that what you’re asking?” There was anger in his voice.

“Of course not. But it seems like an awful waste of time.”

“You didn’t pick up your cell phone so I called that clinic where you work. They said you’d just left so I took a chance and came over here.”

“Did you call me there yesterday, too?” she asked, startled by the revelation.

“Yes-is that a problem?”

So Jack was the mystery caller. “I’m just wondering how you got the number,” she said.

“I decided to blow a buck and called 411.”

“I meant, how did you know the name of the clinic?”

“You mentioned it at one point when we were talking about the kids.”

She didn’t remember ever doing so, but she couldn’t be sure and decided it was best to drop it. Jack seemed hyped up now, irritated, and she sensed that her smartest strategy was to avoid pushing any buttons with him.

She opened the apartment door, with Jack right behind her. Smokey had obviously heard the key in the lock and was waiting in the foyer. He curled his body around Lake’s calves and then Jack’s.

“Hey, Smokes,” Jack said distractedly without bothering to pet the cat.

“Most of your stuff is still in Will’s closet,” Lake said. “Except your black suitcase-that’s in the back of the closet in our room.”

Our room. She couldn’t believe she’d called it that.

“What I need is in the suitcase,” Jack said. “I’ll just head back there, okay? It shouldn’t take more than a minute.”

His tone had changed slightly. He sounded friendlier, less confrontational, which made her more suspicious. As he strode down the hall toward the master bedroom, she wondered if she should follow him, check out exactly what he was doing. Was this whole “I need a few papers” thing actually a ruse to snoop , to try to spot something he could use against her? Maybe that’s why he’d suddenly sounded friendlier-to throw her off her guard. She felt her anger begin to rise.

As she started down the hall behind him, the phone rang. She wanted to keep tabs on Jack, but if she didn’t answer it, Jack would hear the message on the answering machine. She stepped quickly into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. Her hello seemed to echo through the quiet apartment.

“Don’t tell me that guy who was murdered is Dr. McSteamy from the clinic?”

It was Molly. At full throttle.

“Yes-it was him,” Lake said, lowering her voice.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Jack’s here. Picking up some papers. Or so he says.”

“What do you mean, ‘Or so he says’?”

“I’ll have to tell you later.”

“Okay, so back to McSteamy. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I was going to but it’s been crazy. Can we talk later? I need to get off.”

“Call me, okay? ’Bye.”

“Something the matter?” Jack said from behind her, nearly making her jump. With the phone still in her hand, Lake spun around to see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, two folders under his arm, his head cocked in curiosity.

“As I told you-I’m busy today. Do you have what you need?”

“Yup. Thanks. And, by the way, I’m closing on my new apartment next week, so I’ll be getting the rest of my stuff out of here really soon.”

“All right,” she said, leading him down the long hallway toward the front door. Did he expect her to gush with gratitude?

“Are you planning to attend parents’ day at the camp tomorrow?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, incredulous at his question. She could feel her blood begin to boil. “Did you assume I’d spend the day at Barneys along with the other neglectful mommies?”

She regretted the remark as soon as it had shot from her mouth. It was the kind of sniping Hotchkiss had warned her against.

“You shouldn’t take everything so personally, Lake,” he said, stopping in the foyer. “Are you just driving up for the day or are you going to be using the house this weekend?”

Now what? she wondered. “Why?” she asked.

“If you’re not going to use the house, I’d like to stay there tonight. I have to go on to Boston from the camp and it’d be nice not to have to make two long trips in one day.”

“Actually I am using the house this weekend,” she lied.

He studied her face, though she couldn’t tell what he was looking for. A sign that she’d just fibbed? She wished he’d just leave already.

“Okay, then,” he said coolly after a moment. He reached for the door handle-and then hesitated. “Are you coming?”

“What do you mean?” she asked. It was as if his whole visit was some mind game meant to drive her nuts.

“You said you had to go back to your clients’.”

She remembered her earlier lie. “I do. But I have a call to return first.”

After he’d left, she leaned for a moment in relief against the foyer wall. Then she hurried down to her bedroom and swung open the closet door. His old black suitcase was exactly where it had been, though slightly askew from having been put back haphazardly. She surveyed the room. She’d totally changed the bedroom a month ago, making it all white and spare, far different from what it had been when Jack had shared the space with her. But it was less than tidy today, with a few items scattered on the low dresser-a Starbucks receipt, a clipping she’d torn from the Wall Street Journal . She walked over and glanced at them. She was pretty sure they had been moved. Jack had snooped around.

Kicking off her shoes, she fell back onto the bed. Everything right now seemed Kafkaesque to her-Jack’s behavior, Keaton’s death. She thought of her lie about using the house in the Catskills. The kids’ camp was only twenty-five minutes from the house, but her plan had been to drive all the way to the camp from Manhattan and return to the city later that day. She had avoided going to the house all summer, mainly because of what was happening with Jack-she was afraid of memories. But maybe it would do her good to be there. The house had always been a refuge for her, and it might be exactly what she needed right now. Nothing there could conjure up Keaton and the horrible mess she was in. It would be great for Smokey to poke around outdoors. And there was no reason she couldn’t leave right now.