Kate White - Hush

“Mrs. Warren, I was just picking up the phone to call you back,” Morrison said. “You got my message about Amy, correct?”

“Your message?”

“Yes, I left it on your home phone. I thought that was why you were calling.”

Walking as they spoke, Lake spotted the blinking light on the answering machine in the kitchen.

“Oh, right, yes. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Amy is resting in the infirmary today,” he said. “Her throat is raw and scratchy and she’s running a slight fever. We’ve taken a culture for strep because we’ve had one other camper come down with it this summer. We should have the results later today.”

“When did this start?” Lake asked.

“She first visited the nurse today but apparently she hasn’t felt her best for a day or two. I wish she’d spoken up sooner.”

Lake remembered her own sore throat, which had blossomed Tuesday. Maybe she’d passed something to Amy when she was there for parents’ day. She felt overwhelmed with the need to be with Amy and comfort her.

“I have a small favor to ask,” Lake said. “Amy has been a little down in the dumps this summer-her father moved out several months ago, as I think you’re aware. I’m afraid that the combination of being sick and being away from home and everything else is going to make her feel very blue. I know it’s against the rules, but I think Amy could really use a visit from me. I’d appreciate it if I could stop by tomorrow.”

“Oh dear, I’m not sure what to say,” he said. “Parents really aren’t supposed to drop by. And I’ve already let your husband come by one night since he was unable to make parents’ day.”

“I understand completely. But I want Amy to enjoy her last days at camp-especially since I’d love her and Will to come back next year.”

He hesitated, obviously registering the pressure she’d just imposed. “All right, then. We’ll just have to be discreet. When you arrive, ask for the infirmary and go directly there.”

“There’s just one hitch,” she said. “I’d like to check in on Will, too. I can’t very well come to the camp and not see him. Could one of the counselors walk him down to my car afterward? I’ll make sure he doesn’t tell anyone.”

His sigh of dismay was audible over the phone.

“All right. But I’m just remembering-tomorrow is field trip day, and the kids are going to a water park. Will won’t be back until five.”

Lake squeezed her temple, thinking. She had to make this work.

“Okay, why don’t I get there just before five? I’ll visit Amy and then surprise Will with a quick hello when the bus returns.”

“All right, then, I’ll let Amy know,” he said. She could detect from his tone that she’d left him vexed and grumpy. Tough, she thought.

After she signed off, she dragged the hall table in front of the door again. Two photos toppled over as she gave it a final shove. For a moment, she just stood and stared at the scene in front of her. It looked right out of a horror movie-the door barricaded as if she were expecting the arrival of a homicidal doll or a serial killer hoisting a chain saw. Though Jack would be picking the kids up from camp in less than a week and a half and taking them to the Hamptons for another week, after that they would be back here with her. How could she explain the nightly barricade to them? Or what had happened to Smokey? How could she put them in danger?

There was only one way to stop all this, and that was to expose the clinic. Everything-the kids’ safety, her safety, life as she’d once known it-rested on that. And that, in turn, depended on whether Rory could find the information she needed and if Archer could supply it to the right people. It had been ages since she’d relied on anyone, and now she was banking on two people she barely knew. It felt unfamiliar, uncomfortable.

She faxed the kids, telling Amy she couldn’t wait to see her but saying nothing to Will about her visit. For dinner she nuked a frozen French bread pizza that tasted of ancient freezer burn. She ate it with Smokey at her feet while she searched online for the New Century Research company that Rory had mentioned. Nothing came up. It was an organization that clearly preferred flying under the radar.

At eight she tried Archer again. Still voice mail. It seemed odd not to hear from him since he’d seemed eager for an update. Maybe he was on to the next best story. Next she rang downstairs on the intercom. It was the night doorman who answered, having obviously been called in early. He had no news of Bob, he said. She dug the number for her neighbors out of a drawer, thinking Stan might have heard something. An answering machine picked up. Great-so much for his staying in for the night.

Exhausted, she decided to turn in early and bunk down in the living room again-she felt more secure somehow, knowing she could keep an eye on the door. As she tossed a bed pillow and summer blanket onto the couch, she recalled how safe she had felt at Archer’s last night-a place where no one could find her.

She was leafing listlessly through a magazine when the phone rang. It had to be Archer, she told herself. But when she picked up the receiver and glanced at the screen she saw that the caller was Molly. She nearly dropped the phone in shock, as if it had morphed into something venomous. And yet she knew it wouldn’t be smart to put off the conversation-she had to pretend things were perfectly normal.

“Hi there,” Lake said, as a way of answering.

“You okay ?” Molly demanded. “I got that frantic message from you last night and then couldn’t reach you.”

“Oh-sorry. I-I was a little worried about how my presentation went-the one at the clinic-and I just needed to talk. Sorry if I made it seem like an emergency.”

“Your voice sounded really rattled. So it didn’t go well?”

“Actually, I’ve heard some feedback since then and they liked it,” she lied. “Sometimes it’s just so hard to know in the moment.”

“And there’s really nothing wrong? You still sound funny to me.”

“No, you just caught me as I was getting ready for bed. Everything went fine.”

“If you say so,” Molly said. Lake could almost see her shrugging, unconvinced. Molly obviously sensed something was up. How perfectly gleeful she’d be, Lake thought, if she knew the truth and could run to Jack with it: “Here’s something for your custody case, darling-her client thinks she was spying on them.”

“What about that murder?” Molly added before Lake could chase her off the phone. “Has anyone been arrested? I haven’t read any news in a couple of days.”

Too busy bedding my ex-husband, Lake thought.

“No, not as far as I know… How are you?”

“Not bad. I did a shoot in Central Park today and the model fainted. Granted, the girl weighed four pounds, but I think it had more to do with wearing a faux fur hooded jacket in ninety-degree heat. I hear it’s supposed to rain tomorrow and then get cooler by Sunday.”

“Really?” Lake said. She couldn’t stand this. As she listened to Molly’s husky voice droning on about the weather, she kept picturing the green eyes and full mouth and imagining that mouth on the man she once loved and cherished.

“So how about grabbing a drink this weekend? I could even do brunch on Sunday.”

“Um, gosh. I wish I could. But now I’m backed up with a new client. I want to use the weekend to catch up.”

“Any Jack sightings? He hasn’t been lurking around again, has he?”

The abrupt change in topic suggested Molly had been crouched for the past few minutes, waiting for an open moment to spring that question into the conversation.

“Not lately, no. Look, Molly, I’d love to talk, but I should get to bed. I want to-”