At eight she tried Archer again. Still voice mail. It seemed odd not to hear from him since he’d seemed eager for an update. Maybe he was on to the next best story. Next she rang downstairs on the intercom. It was the night doorman who answered, having obviously been called in early. He had no news of Bob, he said. She dug the number for her neighbors out of a drawer, thinking Stan might have heard something. An answering machine picked up. Great-so much for his staying in for the night.
Exhausted, she decided to turn in early and bunk down in the living room again-she felt more secure somehow, knowing she could keep an eye on the door. As she tossed a bed pillow and summer blanket onto the couch, she recalled how safe she had felt at Archer’s last night-a place where no one could find her.
She was leafing listlessly through a magazine when the phone rang. It had to be Archer, she told herself. But when she picked up the receiver and glanced at the screen she saw that the caller was Molly. She nearly dropped the phone in shock, as if it had morphed into something venomous. And yet she knew it wouldn’t be smart to put off the conversation-she had to pretend things were perfectly normal.
“Hi there,” Lake said, as a way of answering.
“You okay?” Molly demanded. “I got that frantic message from you last night and then couldn’t reach you.”
“Oh-sorry. I-I was a little worried about how my presentation went-the one at the clinic-and I just needed to talk. Sorry if I made it seem like an emergency.”
“Your voice sounded really rattled. So it didn’t go well?”
“Actually, I’ve heard some feedback since then and they liked it,” she lied. “Sometimes it’s just so hard to know in the moment.”
“And there’s really nothing wrong? You still sound funny to me.”
“No, you just caught me as I was getting ready for bed. Everything went fine.”
“If you say so,” Molly said. Lake could almost see her shrugging, unconvinced. Molly obviously sensed something was up. How perfectly gleeful she’d be, Lake thought, if she knew the truth and could run to Jack with it: “Here’s something for your custody case, darling-her client thinks she was spying on them.”
“What about that murder?” Molly added before Lake could chase her off the phone. “Has anyone been arrested? I haven’t read any news in a couple of days.”
Too busy bedding my ex-husband, Lake thought.
“No, not as far as I know… How are you?”
“Not bad. I did a shoot in Central Park today and the model fainted. Granted, the girl weighed four pounds, but I think it had more to do with wearing a faux fur hooded jacket in ninety-degree heat. I hear it’s supposed to rain tomorrow and then get cooler by Sunday.”
“Really?” Lake said. She couldn’t stand this. As she listened to Molly’s husky voice droning on about the weather, she kept picturing the green eyes and full mouth and imagining that mouth on the man she once loved and cherished.
“So how about grabbing a drink this weekend? I could even do brunch on Sunday.”
“Um, gosh. I wish I could. But now I’m backed up with a new client. I want to use the weekend to catch up.”
“Any Jack sightings? He hasn’t been lurking around again, has he?”
The abrupt change in topic suggested Molly had been crouched for the past few minutes, waiting for an open moment to spring that question into the conversation.
“Not lately, no. Look, Molly, I’d love to talk, but I should get to bed. I want to-”
“Is everything really okay, Lake? Be honest with me.”
Don’t keep denying, Lake told herself. Molly won’t buy that.
“Okay, honestly you’re right. Remember that roller-coaster factor you mentioned last week? I guess I’m just in one of the dip periods right now. Maybe because the weekend is about to start and I’m still getting used to being on my own.”
“See, that’s what I was talking about. Well, feel better and call me if you just need to vent.”
That did the trick, Lake thought. Because Molly loved being right. As Lake hung up and lay back on the sofa she realized that despite how despicable it was that her friend and Jack were lovers, it would be a relief to cut Molly from her life. Deep down she’d begun to grow tired of Molly’s smugness and pushiness.
She switched off the light on the end table and closed her eyes wearily. How different her couch seemed from Archer’s. There was no hint of wood smoke from the fireplace still in the fabric, no reassuring footsteps overhead.
The phone rang then. It was Archer, as if she had conjured him up.
“How are you?” he asked. “Sorry it took so long to phone you back. I got stuck in an endless, mind-numbing meeting with our lawyers.”
“Well, my doorman is missing, which is scaring the hell out of me, but on the other hand I have some good news.”
She filled him in on what Rory had shared about the transported eggs and her agreement to help. Archer pelted her with questions and then turned back to the doorman issue.
“Do you want to crash on my couch again? Do you want me to crash on yours?”
For a split second she considered both. But she felt uneasy about leaving the apartment this late, and it wouldn’t be smart to have Archer stay there. It was the kind of thing Hotchkiss had warned her about. And she’d already paid too high a price for ignoring his advice once before.
“I appreciate that. But I think I’m okay. I’ve got the door barricaded.”
“Why don’t we touch base tomorrow?”
“Sounds good. I may be out of reach for a while, though. I’m running up to my kids’ camp and the cell service is spotty on the way there.”
She slept restlessly, and kept waking, thinking she’d heard a noise. The next day she was on the road by one, giving herself more than enough time to reach the camp just before five, when Will would be returning. Before pulling onto the highway, she’d driven up and down a few blocks in Manhattan, making sure no one was following her. She couldn’t take the chance of anyone discovering where the camp was. By the time she merged onto the West Side Highway, the back of her summer dress was wet with the sweat of pure anxiety.
She tried to calm herself by focusing on her kids. She craved seeing them, if even for a few minutes. She looked forward to making sure Amy was okay and pampering her a little. She also thought of Rory and felt a surge of hope. Finally she had someone on the inside to help her.
And yet for every comforting thought, there was a troubling one to match. What if Rory got cold feet or came up empty-handed? Then what was she going to do about the kids when they eventually returned? How in the world could she protect them?
27
SHE STOPPED FOR a late lunch on the deck of a roadside tavern. It was hot out, but a light breeze tousled her hair. She glanced up. Though the sky had been clear when she’d left Manhattan, big cumulus clouds had begun to herd together along the horizon.
When she rummaged for her wallet to pay the bill, she checked her BlackBerry. This was a stretch of the road where she had service back and she noticed there was a missed call-from Rory.
“Call me as soon as you can,” the message said. “It’s important.” There was an edginess to Rory’s tone.
She tried calling Rory back, but an answering machine picked up. “You’ve reached the Deevers,” Rory’s voice said. “Leave a message and we’ll get back to you. Have a nice day.”
Next she tried Rory’s cell and got voice mail as well. When they’d met yesterday, Rory had said she might want to talk this weekend to review the plan. And yet the word important in her message was a flag. Lake just hoped Rory hadn’t changed her mind.