the spill she’d taken on the rocks, from gripping on to the bastion for so long—and yet at the same time she felt totally wired. Memories of being in the river began to rush her mind. They made her panicky all over again, and she shook her head on the pillow, forcing them away. I can’t relive that, not right now, she thought. And then she felt a surge of something else, something that caught her by surprise. Satisfaction. She had saved herself tonight. A man had attacked her, intent, she was fairly certain, on killing her, and she had outwitted him. She knew she had to hold on to that victory like a talisman. She needed the courage to continue to outwit whoever was after her.
Tomorrow she would connect with Maggie. She’d ask her to check the Hunt information sheet for a series of letters, written in pencil. It wouldn’t be easy, but Lake had to convince Maggie and make her see the need to help her.
Finally, she closed her eyes, exhausted. She fell asleep and began to dream—about Amy. She and her daughter were walking by a body of water in a place she didn’t recognize. And then someone was trying to take Amy away, saying she wasn’t Lake’s child after all. But she looks just like me, Lake screamed, terrified of losing her.
Suddenly she was jerked awake, as if she were stumbling off a curb. A thought grew quickly in her mind, like a sponge dipped in water.
She knew what the letters meant.
23
SHE WOKE THE next morning to muffled kitchen sounds—running water, a pan scraping against a stovetop burner. In her foggy state she thought she was hearing Will in the kitchen, using the stove when he shouldn’t. But then she remembered where she was—and what had happened.
In the dim light from the living room windows, she located her purse and the sundress, then ducked into the powder room that Archer had pointed out last night. As she ran the water to wash her face, she checked her phone. There was an urgent message from Molly, finally responding to Lake’s call for help last night.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Call me.” The sound of her voice made Lake livid.
“Hey, you’re up,” Archer said as she stepped back into the living room. He was standing in the doorway from the kitchen, wearing a fresh dress shirt and a dark suit, no tie. “How about some break-k fast?”
“That would be great,” she said. She remembered that she hadn’t eaten dinner last night and her stomach was grumbling.
The kitchen fit Archer as well as the rest of the apartment did. Though the appliances were ultra-modern, the space was casual, homey—stacks of magazines and mail on the counter, postcards on the fridge, a bowl full of bananas on the round wooden table. There was a garden out back and the door was open so that a light breeze blew into the room.
“I’ve got English muffins, yogurt—plain or blueberry—granola, and a cereal called banana crunch that my stepson is addicted to but I think may contain massive amounts of sugar.”
Lake smiled. “Plain yogurt sounds good. And an English muffin. But you don’t have to wait on me. I can get it.”
“No, no, sit down. There’s coffee on the table.”
“Your place is great,” Lake said, sliding into a chair. “How long have you lived here?”
“About five years. When I was married, my wife insisted on doing the whole Upper East Side thing, which never really thrilled me. I found this place right after we split, and it’s been great. There’s a little study upstairs and a room for Matt, my stepson. In fact, he lived here the whole year I was working in Washington.”
“What’s he like?”
“A real good guy,” he said, setting her yogurt down. “Twenty-two. Now at Columbia Law. How about some sliced banana with that? As you can see, I’m flush with those. My housekeeper clearly thinks I’m suffering from a potassium deficiency.”
She smiled again and poured a mug of coffee for herself. “No, this is fine.”
After toasting and buttering the muffin, he slid the plate in front of her and pulled out a chair for himself at the table. This is all so weird, she thought. He’s the only man besides Jack that I’ve sat across the breakfast table from in nearly fifteen years.
“We need to make a plan,” he said firmly. Suddenly the no-nonsense Kit Archer was back.
“I know—and I have to get home,” she said. “I need to