is it, she thought. I have to seem normal. And look as shocked as everyone else when they hear the news.
Lake was one of the last to enter the conference room and it was packed; the doctors, nurses, lab personnel, and support staff were all there—except Harry Kline, Lake noticed. There were also two men whom she guessed to be detectives. One was black, early forties, sort of beefy, with kind eyes. The other was white, shorter, with salt-and-pepper hair. His eyes weren’t the least bit kind.
“I have terrible news to report,” Levin said somberly as soon as everyone was quiet. “Dr. Keaton was found murdered in his apartment today.”
There were exclamations of horror around the room. Lake’s eyes met Steve’s, and he flashed her a look of shock. Chelsea, one of the young embryologists, burst into tears, and then there was a flurry of questions.
“Please, everyone,” Levin,” said. “We have two detectives here and they need our cooperation.”
“Folks, we’re very sorry for your loss,” the one with the unkind eyes said. “I’m Detective Hull and this is Detective McCarty. We’re here because we need to speak to each of you privately. Until it’s your turn to meet with us, just resume what you were doing. And do not discuss the case among yourselves at this time.”
Levin interjected, telling everyone that all nonessential appointments were being canceled for the day and that it was critical to give the remaining patients the best care possible. He dismissed the meeting then and everyone dispersed, walking zombie-like out of the conference room.
Back in the small conference room, Lake opened one of her folders, trying not to let her hand shake. She mentally rehearsed for the meeting with the detectives, trying to guess the questions they’d ask. They’d want to know if she was at all friendly with Keaton. Grasping at straws, she thought of a marketing strategy she once read about called the Rule of Candor: admit a negative and twist it into a positive. She’d need to be forthcoming about talking to Keaton yesterday in the office. It would be better than having them find out about it from Brie.
Rory came in at one point to place a reference book back on the bookshelf. Her eyes were misty and she had one hand draped across her pregnant belly.
“Isn’t it horrible?” she said to Lake. “He was only forty-five.”
“I know,” Lake said. “Who—who do you think would have wanted to kill him?”
“Oh, but they told us not to talk about the crime,” Rory admonished
“I know. I just—” Lake said defensively. But Rory turned and left before she could finish.
Lake assumed the detectives were calling people one by one into the large conference room so she was startled when a short while later they entered the small conference room where she was sitting.
“Lake Warren?” McCarty, the nicer-seeming detective, asked.
“Yes.” She started to rise but he motioned for her to stay seated. They slid into chairs opposite her, and McCarty flipped open a notebook.
“So you’ve worked here for just a few weeks?” McCarty said.
“Um, yes. Though I’m not an actual employee. I’m a freelance consultant.” Her words sounded clunky, as if she were relearning how to speak.
“Did you know Dr. Keaton very well?” McCarty asked.
“No. No, I didn’t. But I did chat with him a little bit yesterday.”
“What’d you talk about?”
“His joining the practice, some details about his former clinic.”
“And what about previously?” Hull asked, speaking for the first time.
“Previously?” she said, confused.
“Did you know him previously?” he asked, staring at her.
Her pulse jumped. Why was he asking that?
“No,” she said as evenly as possible. “I only met him when I started working here.”
McCarty scribbled a few notes in his pad and then looked back at her.
“Tell us about dinner last night. What did the two of you talk about?” he said.
“We didn’t talk. To each other, that is. We were seated at opposite ends of the table.”
Don’t sound so defensive, she told herself. She was starting to feel ill with anxiety.
“And after dinner?”
“You mean, did I speak to him?”
“Yup.”
“No—he left early. He said something about needing to call a patient. I was one of the last to leave the restaurant.”
The two men swapped a look, and then Hull trained his gaze at Lake.
“And then what?” Hull said, his voice hard. “Because you didn’t go home right away, did you?”
5
LAKE FELT AS if she’d been stabbed with a shot of adrenaline and instinctively she touched her cheek with her hand, to the spot where her