“Well, I’m planning to stay in for the night,” Stan said as they reached their floor. “Just give a shout if you need anything.”
There was a moment when she considered asking him to check out her apartment, despite how silly she would seem to him, but as she turned the key in the lock she found that the dead bolt was still secured, indicating that no one had entered.
She opened her door and stepped inside. It was utterly still, as if it was a house that had been empty for years.
“Smokey,” she called out, heading hesitantly down the long hallway toward her bedroom. She’d left the AC running in there for him, with the door partially closed. As she walked she looked left and right, into the living room and kitchen and then her bedroom, checking. She wished Archer were here now, helping her like he had before.
Pushing the bedroom door the rest of the way open, she glanced toward the bed, expecting to see the cat curled there. But he wasn’t.
“Smokey,” she called again. “Here, kitty.” There was no sign of him. Please, no, she prayed, don’t let this be happening again. She retraced her steps to the front of the apartment and slipped into the family room. Smokey suddenly shot from beneath an armchair. Lake jumped in surprise and followed him with her eyes. He stopped in the living room as abruptly as he’d started. Sitting back on his haunches, he licked a paw with his tongue. Lake glanced worriedly around the family room, and then, seeing nothing wrong, approached Smokey. She wondered what had made him hide like that. Was he just angry that she’d been out so much?
As soon as she began to stroke him, her mind went instantly to Amy. In her wigged-out state about the doorman, she’d completely forgotten about her daughter’s plight. She raced back to the hallway where she’d left her purse and checked her BlackBerry. No call from the director yet. She punched the camp’s number again and this time she was told he was available.
“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.”