Greg is right, Kate knew, staring out at the lab. The answer isn’t under a scope.
It was real and scary, and she didn’t know how to go about finding it, or what she would find there when she did. Or even whom she could trust.
But she had to know. The picture changed everything.
Because the name on the gate that sickened her—Mercado—meant it was no longer just about him, her father. The name on that gate was about her, too.
About every memory, every touch she had felt. Every moment of laughter in her life.
The WITSEC agents wouldn’t let Kate see her family. She had to find another way.
Greg was right, the answer wasn’t under a lens.
It was right out in the open. And Kate had an idea where.
In the bedroom of her white clapboard house, Sharon began typing the words into her computer. “Kate …”
There were about a thousand things she wanted to say.
“First, I want to tell you how much I miss you and love you—and how very sad I am that we have put you at risk. But there are things, things I had almost forgotten myself, that I have to say. Time does that, you know. Time and hope. The hope that the past is the past—which it never is. And that the person you will become is different from the person you are now.”
A cold wind blew off the bay, rattling the window. “It’s late. Justin and Em are asleep. This time of night, Kate, I feel like it’s just you and me.”
Downstairs, a female agent stayed awake through the night. There was a tracer on their phones. Across the street there was always a car.
“The kids are holding up well, I guess. They miss their father. They miss a lot of things. Their life. You. They’re young, and they’re confused. They have every right to be. As I’m sure you are, too.
“Your father may be dead—or not, I don’t know. But I am sure I will never see him again. Whatever he’s done, do not judge him too harshly. He loves you. He has always loved you. He’s loved all of you. He’s tried to protect you, all these years. Secrets are hard to keep. They burn a hole in the lining of your soul. It’s so much easier to forget.
“So let me tell you, Kate … now.”
Sharon wrote. She wrote it all out, all the things she felt compelled to say. The meaning of the pendant she had left with Kate. All the things Kate had to know. About her father.
She even told her where they were living.
How much she wanted to say, The hell with it—come, Kate, come. We miss you so much. We need to be together. I don’t care about the goddamned rules. Find us, honey. Come. You need to know the truth.…
Everything came rushing out. “I’m sorry, Kate. For keeping things secret. That you have to feel afraid. For Tina. For keeping our family apart.”
She felt like a true mother again, for the first time in a year.
Suddenly a light flashed in the window. It always scared her. She glanced at the clock and knew it was time.
The government vehicle pulled up the long driveway. As it did every night. She heard the driver’s door open, the agent step out, utter a couple of unintelligible words to his colleague. The changing of the guard.
Sharon stared at the screen. She read over what she had written. A sadness began to tug at her heart.
“Yes, baby, you should know it all.” She read it over again. It was all there. She poised her finger over the “send” icon.
Then she hesitated.
“Live your life,” she’d told her daughter. And she meant it with all her heart. Live your life. You don’t have to know. There’s hope there.
Sharon shut her eyes, as she had a hundred times over the same message she had written out a hundred nights before. She knew that Kate would never get to read it. She knew she mustn’t get her involved.
“Live your life,” she whispered again, aloud.
And she pressed “delete.”
The letter disappeared. Sharon sat there facing a blank screen. She typed four more words, then let her forehead sink to the table as she wiped a tear off her cheek.
The same words she wrote every night before she went to sleep.
“I love you, Mom.”
It had never been entirely clear who had informed on Kate’s father to the FBI. With his own admission of guilt, his voice caught on tape, it never really seemed to matter. He pled guilty; he testified against his friend; he went to jail. The FBI had never divulged the informant’s identity—even during the trial.
The transcripts were all a matter of public record. Kate had never been to the courthouse or read over the records. She had never wanted to see him like that. But now she did. It was just a matter of finessing them from the judge’s clerk, being a little circumspect to everyone about why she wanted them.
A few days later, the message was left on her cell phone. From Alice, Mel Kipstein’s secretary. “Mr. Kipstein asked me to call, Kate. What you’re looking for is in.”
Kate went up to the lawyer’s office, in a tall glass building on Thirty-fifth and Park. His secretary took her into a large room where several heavy black folders sat on the sleek rosewood conference table.
“Make yourself at home, Kate,” Alice told her. “There’s some water. If you need anything else, just call. Mr. Kipstein’s in conference. Hopefully, he’ll be in soon.”
She closed the door.
Kate sank into a leather chair, pulling over the first bound volume. It was full of legal documents filed with the court: depositions, evidence forms, witness agreements. Kate didn’t even know what she was looking for. Suddenly this idea seemed a little foolish and overwhelming. She was just praying that something was here.
She started with the opening statements. It was disturbing to see the evidence mounted against her father, to read about him as a co-conspirator and a felon. Admitting guilt, confessing his crimes, turning on his friend.
She moved ahead to the section in Folder Three where he took the stand. The prosecutor told the court how he had openly conspired to break the law. How he had taken kickbacks, payoffs. How he had passed them on to his friend Harold Kornreich. How all along he had known whom he was dealing with. On cross-examination the defense counsel tried his best to discredit him.
LAWYER: You’ve pretty much lied to everyone about your involvement. Haven’t you, Mr. Raab?
RAAB: Yes.
LAWYER: You lied to the FBI when you were arrested. You lied to the Justice Department. You lied to your employees. You even lied to your own wife and children, isn’t that right, Mr. Raab?
RAAB: Yes.
LAWYER: Speak up.
RAAB: Yes.
Kate’s chest tightened. This whole charade … He’s lying to us even now!
It hurt to read it. To see him pretending to be