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. “It would be helpful if you changed addresses. Made sure the phone and electric bills are not in your name.”
Kate nodded.
“We’ll go over how you handle things after your parents leave.”
“Will we ever be able to come back?” Em asked hesitantly.
“No one ever says never”—Margaret Seymour smiled—“but most families end up growing comfortable in their new places. Plant roots. The Mercados have a long memory, I’m afraid. I think it’s best you look at this as a new phase in your life. This will be who you are now. You’ll get used to it. I swear on a stack of squash racquets.… Anything else?”
“So this is it.” Sharon drew in a breath. Her eyes darted around, on the edge of tears. “Our house. Our friends. Our life. Everything we built.”
“No.” Kate shook her head. She took her mother’s hand and pressed it firmly against her own heart. “This is everything, Mom. This is what you built. Don’t ever forget that. Our name is Raab, Mom. Kate and Justin and Emily Raab. No one can ever take that away.”
“Oh, honey, I’m gonna miss you so very, very much.” Her mother gave Kate a deep, long hug. Kate felt tears, Sharon’s tears, on her shoulder. Emily came up. They both embraced her.
“I’m a little scared,” Em announced. Tough as nails on the squash court, but now just a sixteen-year-old girl about to be separated from everything familiar in her life.
“I’m scared, too, babe,” answered Kate, tightening her arms around her sister. “You have to be strong,” she whispered in her ear. “You’re the fighter now.”
“So it’s all agreed, then,” her father interjected. He had barely said a word through the whole proceeding. Phil Cavetti nodded to a young WITSEC agent by the door. He came over and respectfully took Raab by the arm.
“Okay.” Sharon wiped her eyes, taking a last, long look around. “I don’t want to say any more. It’s just a place. There’ll be others. Let’s just go.”
Kate suddenly realized she was saying good-bye to her family as she knew it for the last time. This wasn’t a trip. They weren’t coming back. She walked to the door with her arms wrapped around Em and Justin. She looked at them, her heart beating anxiously. “I don’t know what to say.”
“What is there to say?” Her mother smiled and wiped the tears from Kate’s cheek. “I have something for you, darling.” She took out a small brown jewelry box from her blazer and pressed it into Kate’s hand.
Kate opened the lid. There was a delicate gold chain inside with a pendant on it. It was a half sun made of hammered gold with a diamond set in. The edges were jagged, as if someone had split it in two. It seemed Aztec—or Incan, maybe.
“It holds secrets, Kate.” Sharon smiled and placed it around Kate’s neck. “There’s a story behind it. One day I’ll tell it to you. One day you’ll fit the pieces together, okay?”
Kate nodded, fighting back tears.
Then suddenly she turned and faced her dad.
“I transferred some money into your account,” he said stiffly. “Mel will handle it. It ought to hold you for a while.”
“I’ll be okay.” Kate nodded. She wasn’t sure quite what to feel.
“I know you’ll be okay, Kate.” Then he pulled her into his arms. He squeezed her, and Kate didn’t fight it. She didn’t want to. Her head came to rest against his shoulder. “You’re still my daughter,” he told her. “No matter what you may feel. That doesn’t change.”
“I know, Daddy.” Kate sniffed, and hugged him back.
They pulled apart. Kate’s cheeks were wet with tears. She looked into his hooded brown eyes one last time.
“You be good, pumpkin. Watch your blood levels. I know you’re twenty-three. But, hey, if I’m not here to remind you, who will?”
Kate nodded and smiled. “You be good, too, Daddy.”
A federal agent took him by the arm. They led him outside toward a black Jeep with a light on the top. He kissed Sharon. He hugged Justin and Em. Then he and the agent climbed into the car. A misty drizzle started to fall.
Suddenly the pressure in Kate felt like it was about to burst. “I could still come.” She turned to her mother. “Just until Dad gets out …”
“No.” Margaret Seymour shook her head. “There’s no halfway here, Kate. You come, you come for good. You don’t get to leave.”
Sharon took hold of her daughter and smiled, ever so slightly. “Live your life, Kate. That’s what I want for you. Please …”
Kate haltingly nodded back. Then it all started to fall apart, the composure she’d struggled to hold on to.
The agents took them out to a U.S. Marshals Explorer that had quietly appeared. Their bags were already in the back. They got in. Kate ran up and placed her palm on the wet window. “I love you all.…”
“I love you, too,” her mother mouthed, spreading her hand over Kate’s on the opposite side of the glass.
The Explorer started to pull away. Kate watched, frozen, the tears flowing freely now. It was taking everything she had not to lunge and rip the door open and throw herself inside. She couldn’t help the thought that maybe she was seeing them all for the last time.
“We’ll see each other soon!” she called after them.
Everybody spun around through the darkened glass and waved. The Explorer came to a stop at the end of the driveway. Then it turned at the stone pillars. The brake lights flashed—and they were gone.
Kate stood there with her hand raised in the deepening rain.
Then two agents climbed into the front seats of the Jeep. The engine started up. Kate could see her father’s face through the gray-tinted glass. Suddenly a stab of panic sliced through her ribs.
The government vehicle began to pull away.
Kate took a few steps after it. “Dad!”
Her heart was pounding now. She couldn’t let him leave like this. Whatever he’d done. She wanted him to know. He needed to know. She did love him. She did. She started running after the vehicle.
“Daddy, stop, please …!”
The Jeep came to a halt near the end of the driveway. Kate took one or two more steps. The rear window slowly rolled down.
She saw his face. They looked at each other, the rain intensifying. He winked. There was a sadness on his face—a wordless resignation. She felt like there was something she had to say.
Then the vehicle started to move again.
Kate did the one thing she could think of, as the window began to roll up and only his eyes were visible. The one thing she knew he would understand as the vehicle pulled away.
She gave him a one-fingered wave.