She started with her call to Alexis and then took him through everything else, including her presentation and the way Levin had shut her down.
“I was being dismissed, obviously,” Lake said. “And this whole meeting with Melanie—it was clearly a setup, a way to lure me over to some dark street in Brooklyn.”
“Are you sure? What if she had good intentions but simply got cold feet? I even wonder if something might have happened to her.”
Lake hadn’t considered that. But after a moment she shook her head.
“It’s possible, I suppose, but I don’t think so. Though someone could have followed me to the Waldorf, I’m almost sure no one followed me to Brooklyn tonight. I remember that when I parked on the street, there weren’t any cars behind me. Melanie must have alerted someone at the clinic when she’d heard from me and they told her to set up the meeting. Though I doubt she knew they planned to kill me.”
Archer tapped his fist lightly against his lips, a gesture she’d seen him use before.
“But what in hell do they think you’ve got on them?” he asked. “All you actually know is what Alexis told you, and there’s probably nothing the police could do with that info anyway.”
Lake massaged her damp head as her mind tossed everything around. What could they think she knew? Did it go back to Keaton? Was Levin aware she’d been with him that night and assumed he’d told her why he was pulling out of his deal with the clinic?
“Speaking of the police,” Archer said, tugging her from her thoughts, “tell me why you haven’t called them.”
She took a long, slow breath. She needed an explanation that Archer would buy—one that wouldn’t arouse his suspicions.
“The night Mark Keaton was killed a group of us had dinner with him,” she said. “The police came on strong during the interview with me the next day. Keaton had a reputation as a player and they may have wondered if I’d been having an affair with him—and then murdered him. I just don’t want to direct their attention toward me. I’m in a bad custody battle and my ex is clearly looking for anything he can use against me.”
Archer didn’t say a word, just stared at her. Though his face was expressionless, she could see the question in his eyes: Did she have an affair with Keaton? The next question would be: Did she murder him? She took a sip of tea to break the eye contact.
“But if you don’t involve the police,” he said after a minute, “this guy won’t be apprehended. And he may try to hurt you again. Look what happened to Keaton—this all might be connected.”
“I know he may try again—and it’s terrifying,” Lake said. “But I honestly don’t think telling the police will help. It’s not like this guy left his fingerprints in the park. They’d never be able to trace him.”
“But someone down there may have seen him getting into a car.”
She had to get Archer off the police angle.
“Maybe,” she said evenly. “But if these two homicide detectives find out I was chased into the East River, they’re going to suspect something funny is going on with me. Remember what you said about coincidences? Even if I tell the cops I suspect the clinic of arranging the attack, it still puts too much focus on me.”
“But what they might actually do is investigate the clinic. They could end up arresting people—including this thug from tonight.”
Lake shook her head. “But as you said before, there’s no way the cops can just walk into the clinic and investigate. They need proof, and there isn’t any. All we have is Alexis’s word, and, as your producer pointed out, she has a tendency to come off as a nut job.”
“Okay, let’s talk about proof, then,” he said, leaning back into his armchair. “You never found anything in the files?”
She could feel her whole body unclench now that he’d stopped pressing her about the cops.
“Nothing that indicated what they’re up to,” she said. “But when I looked at Melanie’s file tonight, there was a funny little notation—something I’d also seen in another patient’s file.”
From her purse Lake pulled out the scrap of paper on which she’d jotted down the letters. She handed it to Archer, explaining that she’d seen them next to the names on the information sheet.
“Any idea what they mean?” he asked.
“Not a clue.”
“Could they refer to the specific infertility problem