too obvious, she wanted to talk to Maggie about the keys.
She was at the crosstown bus stop by eight-thirty the next day and at the clinic by just after nine. After nodding hello to the receptionist, Lake made her way down the main corridor of the clinic. As she passed by the empty nurses’ station, her eyes found the top drawer of Maggie’s desk, and she fought the urge to stop and open it.
“You’re in early today,” a voice said behind her as she plopped her bags down on the small conference room table. She spun around to find Rory standing behind her. Great, she thought. She didn’t want to appear to be acting out of the ordinary.
“I have an appointment in midtown later,” Lake said, “and I thought I’d swing by here first.”
“Did you have a nice weekend, Lake?”
“Um, yes—it was good to get a chance to just decompress. How are you feeling?”
“Better, I guess,” Rory said, though to Lake she looked tired. There were small bluish circles in the pale skin under her eyes. “I’m just trying to make sure the stress doesn’t affect my baby in any way.”
“That’s so important. I haven’t even thought to ask you—do you know what you’re having?”
“A boy,” she said, cupping her round belly with one hand. “I’m so happy.”
“That’s wonderful—congratulations.”
“I read that couples who have a boy are more likely to stay together,” Rory said. “Because men secretly want boys.”
“I’ve never heard that,” Lake said. “But I could see where it might be true. I guess you could call it the Henry the Eighth factor.”
The last comment seemed to fly over Rory’s head. She looked off to the side, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“I hope it’s true,” Rory said. “It’s so important for kids to grow up in a stable home. Don’t you think so?”
Had Lake never mentioned to Rory that she was separated? she wondered. On any other day the comment, however naïve, might have rattled her, but Lake was already too rattled to care.
“Well, I think you just do the best job you can,” Lake said.
“What a perfect way of putting it,” Rory said smiling and turning to leave. “Have a good day.”
As soon as Rory was gone, Lake slipped out of the conference room and zigzagged along the short corridors toward the storage room at the back of the clinic. When she glanced down the hall that shot off toward the OR, she saw a cluster of four people in blue scrubs and hair caps—Sherman, she thought, and Hoss, too—but they were too engrossed in conversation to notice her.
Once inside the storage room, she eased the door closed behind her and tugged open the drawer where she’d discovered the Archer file. It wasn’t there. Hardly surprising, she thought. Levin didn’t want her to see it and so he hadn’t put it back.
In case he’d simply relocated the file, she rifled through the rest of the drawers, but there was no sign of it. She realized that the file was probably tucked away in Levin’s office. Would she dare sneak in there and search for it?
And then she realized she didn’t have to. She’d more than likely be able to find the article online by searching the reporter’s name—she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of this sooner. She hurried back to the conference room and turned on her laptop. She Googled Archer’s name and the titles of six or seven articles popped up. They all seemed to be meaty investigative articles, published in a variety of magazines. It wasn’t hard to figure out which one had been in the file Levin had grabbed from her: “Brave New World: Behind the Closed Doors of Fertility Clinics.” She clicked the link to it.
She’d only gotten through the first paragraph when she caught a glimpse of Maggie’s black curly hair bouncing past the doorway. Recognizing that this might be her only opportunity to talk to her alone, Lake lowered the lid on her computer so that the screen wasn’t visible and followed Maggie down the hall.
“Hey, Maggie,” she called out quietly as the nurse entered the empty kitchenette. Maggie turned around, and Lake was startled to see how drained her face was.
“Hi,” Maggie said listlessly.
“Listen, I heard about the keys,” Lake said quietly. “It must be so upsetting.”
“I shouldn’t have ever left them in the drawer,” Maggie whispered plaintively, clearly glad to have a confidante. “Do you know what this means? It means someone here may have killed Dr. Keaton.”