Melanie had—or the treatment the doctors prescribed?” Archer asked.
“I’m not an expert, but I know a fair amount of the terminology now, and those letters don’t correspond to anything I’ve heard of. I’m wondering if they’re a code that indicates Alexis’s embryos were transferred to Melanie. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to look at Alexis’s file again. Brie, the office manager, caught me going through the files the first time, and I didn’t want to take another chance.”
“She saw you going through the files?” Archer said. He straightened up in his chair. It seemed some bell had gone off in his head.
“Yes. I made up an excuse, but I don’t think she bought it.”
“Couldn’t that explain why you were attacked tonight?” Archer said, his blue eyes flashing. “You may not have any real evidence, but they think you do.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she said hesitantly. “I’ve just assumed the attack was connected with Melanie.”
Archer stared at the letters again.
“Can you make another attempt to see Alexis’s file?” he asked. “If the letters match what’s in Melanie’s file, we could have something to go on.”
The idea made her shudder. She shook her head. “After tonight, I don’t know if I’d have the nerve.”
Archer raked both hands through his thick white hair.
“There’s just so much at stake,” he said.
“Even if I wasn’t terrified,” Lake told him, “I’m not sure I’d be welcome back in the clinic. Levin acted so weird tonight.”
“We’ve got to find a way to expose them. What if Alexis Hunt is really right? And if she’s right, she’s probably not the only victim.”
Lake took another swig of tea. As she digested his words, she realized that it was the first time she’d really thought about the bigger picture. She’d been so consumed with her own cause, trying to save her skin, and her right to keep her kids, that she hadn’t focused on how many other lives were being manipulated. What if it were I, she suddenly thought? What if I discovered that another woman had borne my child and was raising him?
“I’ve got an idea,” Lake said. “There’s a young nurse there who seems like a really good person. Her name’s Maggie. I could try to convince her to look at the Hunt file for me.”
“Do you think you can trust her?”
“Yes,” Lake said. “If I can manage to contact her.”
Lake set down her mug and reached for the brandy. As soon as she tasted it, she felt transported back to Keaton’s apartment. She recalled the first sip of brandy she’d taken there, the hint of it later on Keaton’s mouth—and then the sight of him dead in his bed. She choked as she swallowed and set the glass quickly back down.
“Are you okay?” Archer asked.
“Yes,” Lake said feebly. “I’m just spent.”
“I don’t blame you.” He glanced at his watch. “God, it’s after one. Look, why don’t I make the couch up for you. You can stay here tonight, and in the morning we’ll figure out some kind of plan.”
She didn’t protest. As insane as it would be to bunk down at his place, she knew she’d at least be safe for tonight.
While Archer went upstairs for sheets and a blanket, she stacked the kilim throw pillows on the floor. He returned not only with the bedding but also with a long T-shirt for her to sleep in. She offered to help make up the couch, but he insisted on doing it alone. Was he really this good a guy? she wondered as she watched him. Or was it all because of the story she was bringing him?
“You’re all set now,” he said, shaking out the blanket.
“Thanks so much for this,” she said. She offered the warmest smile she could muster. Then his eyes narrowed in concern.
“What?” she asked. Something was clearly the matter.
“There’s a bruise on your face. Is it from tonight?”
Her hand swooped to her cheek like a falcon. After the shower she’d neglected to put on any makeup and he was seeing the shadow of her birthmark.
“Oh,” she said, flustered. “I had a birthmark there once.”
“Ah. Well, it only adds to your fascination factor.” He smiled. “Good night. Try to get a good night’s sleep.”
Minutes later, she was lying in pitch-darkness, the sheets cool against her body. For a while she could hear Archer moving around upstairs, getting ready for bed, and then it was quiet—the only remaining sound the light hum from the central air conditioning.
She hoped she’d be able to sleep. Her whole body ached—from