together for a visit, which is really nice, but it makes us all a little homesick. I’m sad about leaving you, and I think you’re a little sad about saying goodbye to me. But as soon as you find Lauren and do something fun with her, you’ll feel good again.”
“But what about you tonight?” Amy implored.
“Oh, I’ve got plans with a friend,” Lake lied. “Now, listen, I want you to run back up the hill and wave to me from the top, okay.” Lake wanted to make certain Amy was up in the main part of the camp before she left.
They hugged each other tightly once more, and then Lake watched Amy scamper up the hill. At the top she turned and waved forlornly. Lake waved back, fighting a sob. It wasn’t until she pulled out of the parking lot that she allowed the tears to stream down her face. Why was all this happening to her? She should never have gone to Keaton’s that night, she cursed herself again. Never should have given in to her pathetic need to be desired.
She drove faster than she should have, often exceeding the speed limit on the twisting roads. When she finally reached the house, she saw two people—a man and a woman—sitting on one of the benches on the green, holding soda cans and chatting casually. Were they who they seemed to be? Lake eyed them surreptitiously as she hurried up the front steps of the house.
Inside, the house was deadly still. She walked warily through the ground-floor rooms, making sure nothing had been disturbed. When she reached the kitchen door, she stopped short for a second, listening. Then she pushed the swinging door slowly open. The room was just as she left it, except for the late afternoon sun spilling over the wooden floorboards. And Smokey was there, curled on the loveseat in the little den next to the kitchen. He raised his head and meowed plaintively as she entered.
Gently, Lake eased him back into his carrying case. As she was zipping up the case, the house phone rang, making her jump yet again. It’s got to be Molly, she thought. But when she answered, a male voice she didn’t recognize spoke her name as a question.
“This is she,” she answered, her heart picking up speed.
“Hi, Lake, it’s Harry Kline.”
“Oh, hi,” she said, taken aback. She had left her number with the clinic but of everybody there, the therapist was the last person she’d expect to hear from.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No—uh, not at all,” she said. She knew she sounded flustered, but she just needed to hang up and get out of there.
“Maggie sent an email around telling us how to reach you, and I thought I’d try to catch you this afternoon. From the area code, I guess your place is upstate.”
“Yes—in the Catskills.”
“That’s great. Do you go most weekends?”
“It depends, you know, on the season, things like that.” As she spoke, her eyes raced over the kitchen windows, checking outside. “Actually this time I’m only here for half the weekend. I was just about to head back to the city.”
“Don’t let me keep you, then. If you’re going to be back in town tomorrow, would you be up for grabbing a cup of coffee?”
Now he was really catching her off guard.
“Um, sure. Is—is something up?”
“No. I just wanted to chat about a few things—out of the office.”
“That sounds kind of ominous,” she said.
“I didn’t mean it to. It’s just so hard to talk in the office with patients around.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. I’m free most of the day.”
“How’s eleven? I know you’re on the West Side, so we could meet at Nice Matin—that bistro at Seventy-ninth and Amsterdam.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” She hung up and grabbed the pet carrier and hurried out of the house.
As she made her way out of town, her eyes kept flicking toward the rearview mirror. The only vehicle behind her was a red pickup truck, which soon turned off onto another road. Whoever had hurt Smokey was clearly long gone—in fact had probably been gone since last night. She suddenly recalled another sound she’d heard—the light slam of a car door when she was in her backyard. It might have been the person fleeing, after drugging and shaving Smokey.
Would the person strike again, she wondered, this time in the city? And would she be the target, not just her cat? A brush fire raced across every nerve in her body.