Blair waited.
“Sandra’s alive,” Jeremy said as he stepped inside the apartment.
He wondered if he’d heard right. “She is?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
Jeremy’s smile was forced. “Don’t I at least get a cup of coffee?”
“A coffee?” He paused. “Yeah. Sure. Where are my manners?” He went to make it, Jeremy following on his heels.
“Let me ask you something,” Blair said, once the kettle was plugged. “You flew all the way here from Israel just to tell me that Sandra is alive?”
“Yes. Why? Do you want me to go back?”
“No. I’m surprised, that’s all. You caught me off-guard, showing up like this, to tell me something you could have told me over the phone. What’s really going on with my daughter, Jeremy?”
“I told you.”
“Yeah…” He let the thought hang as the kettle came to a boil.
Once Jeremy had his coffee in hand, he took a seat at the kitchen table.
Blair remained standing. “Tell me why you’ve come to New York,” he insisted.
Jeremy hesitated. “Pull up a chair.”
“I can hear you very well from here.”
Jeremy took a sip of his coffee. “A couple of days ago we almost broke your daughter free,” he said. “We had her in our sights, only to have our plans foiled once more. We were so darn close.”
“How did you find her?”
“Through our contacts. I told you we would. It was just a matter of time.”
“What exactly did you do?”
“It wasn’t me.”
“What do you mean, it wasn’t you?”
“I supervised a team of very good people from the sidelines.”
“Bull! Weren’t you the one in charge?”
“That’s what a person in charge does.”
“So who was it, then, if not you? Who actually handled the physical attempt to rescue my daughter?”
Jeremy turned introspective. “Lisa,” he finally said.
“Lisa?” Blair couldn’t hide his surprise. “How did she get involved?”
“She was always involved. Didn’t she tell you?”
He tried to recall what was said. “All she told me was that she would be busy for a while. She gave me a phone number. I tried it a few times but could never reach her.”
“No wonder.”
“Yeah. So, where is she now? I’d very much like to talk to her.”
Jeremy stood from the table.
Outside, Blair noticed that New York was experiencing a beautiful September afternoon.
“Lisa did more than take the lead in this operation,” Jeremy said, his gaze dropping.
“And?” Blair pushed.
“She actually put her life on the line.”
“Okay. So that means what, exactly?”
“It was a joint operation between my team and the FBI. The two agents you met, Prendergast and Eathorne, they were also in on it.”
“And Lisa?”
“I’m afraid she didn’t make it, Blair.”
“Huh?”
“Lisa didn’t make it. She was killed.”
One minute he was looking out the window, admiring the sun-filled day; the next his vision blurred.
“Blair?”
“How do you know she’s dead?” he asked, half speaking to himself. “Have they found her body?”
“No. Not yet.”
The answer gave him hope. “Then how do you know, with any certainty, that you are correct?”
“We know, Blair. The other people involved confirmed it.”
“Maybe they are mistaken?”
“They’re not mistaken.”
He didn’t believe him, didn’t want to believe him.
He stood in one place, eyes clamped shut, as if keeping them open would defile Lisa’s memory.
The chill he felt was implacable.
When he finally moved it was zombie-like—from one room to the next, hands shaking, unable to keep them still.
His mind traveled back in time, to when he had first met Lisa. The immediate attraction he had felt, the love they had shared. Recollection after recollection filled his head, each hurting a little more, until the guilt manifested physically into a vicious headache, like an anvil pressing into his brain.