Hush by Kate White Page B

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5
    LAKE FELT AS if she’d been stabbed with a shot of adrenaline and instinctively she touched her cheek with her hand, to the spot where her birthmark once was. Did they know she’d gone to Keaton’s? That she’d spent the night with him? She wondered suddenly if there’d been a security camera in his lobby.
    But if they’d known she had been with him, they wouldn’t have waited so long to interview her. They must be just toying with her, she decided, seeing what they could find out. They were probably doing the same thing with everyone who was at the dinner.
    “You mean, did I go someplace else—after the dinner?” Lake asked. She tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice but it felt like trying to submerge an oar in water.
    “ Did you?” Hull prodded.
    “No,” she said. “I caught a cab and went home.”
    “Which way did you head?” he said.
    Why was he asking that? she wondered anxiously.
    “West—and then north. I live on the Upper West Side.”
    “Dr. Salman says he saw you headed east on Spring Street,” Hull said. “He passed you in his car.”
    Oh God, she thought. Had Steve also seen her turn up Crosby? Could he have spotted her going into Keaton’s building? She had to gamble and assume they didn’t know.
    “Well, I did walk around a little. I couldn’t find a cab right away”
    “Why go east, though, if you live on the Upper West Side?”
    A lump formed in her throat, but she had to answer.
    “I did look on Broadway first but I didn’t see any cabs. So I thought I’d try farther east. When I didn’t have any luck there, I went back to Broadway.”
    McCarty scribbled again—more words, it seemed, than she’d spoken. What was he writing down about her?
    “Did you see anyone from the dinner party when you were strolling about?” Hull asked. He seemed to be mocking her.
    “No, no one,” she said.
    “Tell us more about the dinner,” Hull said. “What was the mood like?”
    “Very nice,” she said. She slowly let out a breath. “People seemed happy that Dr. Keaton was joining the practice.”
    “And were you surprised to have been included?” Hull asked.
    “Uh, not really,” she said. “I think the doctors here realize that it’s helpful for me to spend time with them. Get to know them.”
    The two detectives exchanged another look. She wished she could just bolt from the room.
    “All right,” McCarty said, flipping to a clean page of his notebook. “Please write down your name, address, and both your home and cell phone numbers. We may need to speak to you again at some point.”
    She couldn’t believe it was finally over. She wrote her information down quickly.
    When they rose to go, she stood up too. It seemed silly, as if she were seeing them off after a social visit, but it would have been odd to just sit there. As he reached the door, Hull turned and stared at her. His small eyes were dark and deeply set.
    “One more thing,” he said. “What time did you arrive home?”
    During all her rehearsing, she had forgotten to factor that. She stared at him blankly as her mind did a desperate calculation. At ten-fifteen she’d been at the corner of Spring and Crosby. It might have taken fifteen minutes to find a cab. Twenty minutes or so to get home.
    “The time?” Hull prodded.
    “Sorry, I didn’t pay much attention. I guess it was around eleven.”
    “And did anyone see you come home? Your husband, for instance?”
    Why are you asking that? “I’m not married,” she said. “The doorman might have seen me. But I think he was hailing a cab for someone.”
    “Thank you,” he said, not sounding the least bit grateful. And then they left.
    As soon as they were gone, she put her head in her hands and pulled in a long deep breath. Then she replayed the interview in her mind. McCarty was decent enough but Hull had been curt, almost snarky. They’d wanted to know if anyone could verify that she arrived home at eleven. Was she actually a suspect? Or