“No.” She shook her head. “My father was this honest, stand-up man. He taught us how to be strong and make a difference. He didn’t look in my eye and tell me to trust him one day and then the next say that everything about his life is a lie. You knew, Daddy. You knew what you were doing all along. You knew every goddamn day you came home to us. Every day of our lives …”
He nodded. “What isn’t a lie is that I love you, pumpkin.”
“Don’t call me that!” Kate said. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. That’s gone. That’s the price you pay for this. Look around you, Dad—look at the hurt you’ve caused.”
Her father flinched. He suddenly looked small to Kate, weakened.
“You can’t just build this wall down the center of your life and say, ‘On this side I’m a good person—a good father—but on the other side I’m a liar and a thief.’ I know you’re sorry, Dad. I’m sure this hurts. I wish I could stand behind you, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at you quite the same way.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to, Kate. We’re all going to need one another more than ever now, to get through this.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” Kate shook her head. “I won’t be going with you, Daddy. I’m staying here.”
He turned—his pupils fixed and widening. Alarmed. “You have to, Kate. You could be in danger. I know how angry you are. But if I testify, anyone who might possibly lead back to me—”
“No,” she stopped him, “I don’t. I don’t have to, Daddy. I’m over twenty-one. I have my life here. My work. Greg. Maybe Em and Justin, you can drag them along, and somehow I hope to God you can repair the hurt you’ve caused. But I won’t be going. Don’t you see, you’ve ruined lives, Daddy. And not just your own. People you love. You’ve robbed them of someone they loved and looked up to. I’m sorry, Dad, I won’t let you ruin mine, too.”
He stared at her, stunned at what he was hearing. Then he looked down. “If you don’t,” he said, “you know it might be a very long time before you can see any of us again.”
“I know,” Kate said. “And it’s breaking my heart, Daddy. About as much as it’s breaking my heart to look at you now.”
He sucked in a breath and reached out a hand toward her, as if looking for some kind of forgiveness.
“All I did was buy the gold,” he said. “I’ve never even seen a bag of cocaine.”
“No, you don’t get to think that, Dad,” Kate said angrily. She took his hand, but his fingers had changed from the ones that she felt yesterday—now foreign and unfamiliar and cold.
“Look around you, Dad. This was our family. You’ve done a whole lot more than that.”
The following afternoon two people from the U.S. Marshals Service showed up at the house.
One was a tall, heavyset man with salt-and-pepper hair, named Phil Cavetti. The other, a pleasant, attractive woman of about forty named Margaret Seymour, whom they all immediately liked, said she’d be their case handler. She told them to call her “Maggie.”
They were from WITSEC. The Witness Protection Program.
At first Kate assumed they were merely there to explain the program to everybody. What lay ahead. But after talking to them for a few minutes, it became clear what was actually going on.
They were here to take her family into custody today.
They told everyone to pack a single suitcase. The rest, they said, including the furniture and personal belongings, would come along in a few weeks. Come along where?
Justin stuffed his iPod and his Sony PlayStation into a knapsack. Em mechanically collected her squash racquets and goggles, a poster of Third Eye Blind, and some snapshots of her closest friends.
Sharon was a wreck. She couldn’t believe the parts of her life she couldn’t take, that she was having to leave behind. Her mother. Her family albums. Her wedding china. All her precious things.
Their lives.
Kate tried her best to help. “Take these,” Sharon said, pressing folders filled with old photos into Kate’s hands. “They’re of my mother and father, and their families.…” Sharon picked up a small vase that contained the ashes of their old schnauzer, Fritz. She looked at Kate, her composure starting to fracture. How can I just leave these behind?
When their bags were packed, everyone came down to the living room. Ben was in a blazer and an open plaid shirt, not saying much to anyone. Sharon was dressed in jeans and a blazer, her hair pulled back. Like she was headed on a trip or something. They all sat down silently.
Phil Cavetti started to lay out what would take place.
“Your husband will be delivered to the U.S. Attorney later today,” he said to Sharon. “He’ll begin serving a prison sentence in a secure location until the trial. That could be eight, ten months. Under his agreement, he will have to be a witness at additional trials as they come up.
“The rest of you will be in protective custody until a final location is determined. Under no circumstance can you divulge to anyone where that location is.” He looked at Em and Justin. “That means not even an e-mail to your best friend. Or a text message. This is only for your own protection—do you understand?”
They nodded tentatively. “Not even to Kate?” Em looked over at her sister.
“Not even to Kate, I’m afraid.” Phil Cavetti shook his head. “Once you’re settled, we can arrange a few calls and you’ll be able to e-mail through a WITSEC clearing site. A couple of times a year, we can arrange visits with family at a neutral location under our supervision.”
“A couple of times a year,” Sharon gasped, taking hold of Kate’s hand.
“That’s it. You’ll be given new identities. New drivers’ licenses, Social Security numbers. As far as anyone will be concerned, all this did not exist. You understand that this is only for your own protection? Your father is doing something that will make him very unpopular with the people he’s testifying against. And you’ve already seen firsthand what these people will do. Agent Seymour and I have handled several similar cases. Even people within the Mercado family itself. If you follow the rules, you’ll be okay. We’ve never had a case that was detected yet.”
“I know how scary this must all seem,” Margaret Seymour said. She had a little mole on the right side of her mouth and a hint of a southern drawl. “But it won’t be so bad, when you find a home. I’ve handled many relocations like yours. Families in similar situations. I’m sort of a cock-eyed specialist in the Mercados, you might even say. You’ll have more than most families do. Enough money to live comfortably. Maybe not in the exact lifestyle you’ve been used to, but we’ll do our best to pick a comfortable place.” She smiled at Emily, who was clearly having a hard time. “You ever been to California, hon? Or the Northwest coast?”
“I play squash, Agent Seymour.” Em shrugged. “I have a ranking.”
“Maggie, they call me. And I promise you’ll continue to do that, hon. We’ll work all that out. You’ll go to school, college. Just like you would’ve here. People adapt. You’ll learn to make the best of it. Most important, you’ll be together. Of course”—she glanced at Kate—“it’d be best if all of you went along.”
“No, it’s been decided, I’m staying,” Kate said, tightening the grip on her mother’s hand.
“Then you have to keep a very low profile,” Phil Cavetti insisted.