“Please…” Her hands were cold and trembling. “You have to contact them. You have to turn yourself in.”

She wanted to tell him she’d seen the photo. How she wanted to say, I know…I know. About your brother…About Mercado…I talked to Howard. I know you set the whole thing up.

How she wanted to ask him who had shot up their home that night, while they huddled on the floor so terrified? Who had killed their mom?

Kate waited. She waited for him to say something, anything, hoping against hope, her eyes tightly shut. That all of this wasn’t true. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them off, silent. Because she was afraid. She was afraid to hear his answer.

She was afraid to walk through that gate.

Afraid of what he might say.

“None of that is an option, Kate. Not now. What I really need is for you to believe me. What I need is for you to hear it in my voice. I didn’t kill that agent, Kate. I didn’t torture her. Or anybody. I’m telling you this on your mother’s life. On our lives, Kate. That still means something to you, doesn’t it?”

She sucked in a halting breath and shut her eyes. “Yes…”

“Whatever I’ve done, whatever’s happened, I’m still your father, Kate. You know me. You know I couldn’t do something like that. It was Mercado who killed your mother, Kate. Who killed my wife. Don’t let them poison you. You’re the only hope I have left.”

“I want to, Daddy.” Tears massed in her eyes. “It’s just that-”

“It’s just that what, Kate? Who’s been talking to you? I need to know. These are devious people, baby. That’s why I couldn’t contact you. You were safe from all this. I couldn’t get you involved… Look at Tina.”

“Tina?”

“Look what happened to her, Kate.” The question almost had the feel of a threat. And how did he even know about Tina?

She suddenly realized she was petrified of him. The voice she’d grown up with, that she’d always trusted. Now it left her numb with dread.

“I need to ask you something, Dad.”

“Anything, Kate. I know I’ve done a lot of things wrong. Go ahead.”

“Your mother, Rose…”

“What about Grandma Rose, baby? Why is that important now?”

Kate moistened her lips. “She came from Spain, didn’t she? After your father died? A short while after you were born?”

“Of course she came from Spain,” her father replied. “ Seville. My father was a milliner there. You know the story, Kate. He was run over by a streetcar. Who’s been talking to you?”

“No one.” Kate felt completely empty and alone.

In the pause that followed, Kate knew. She knew that her father realized it wasn’t just WITSEC and the FBI she’d been talking to. Mercado was right. That’s what this was about. Why he was calling her now. That’s who her father was after.

And he knew.

“I need to see you, Kate. You’re the only one I can count on now.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Of course it’s a good idea. When you were sick, whenever you needed anything, I was always there for you, wasn’t I? Now I need someone, Kate. You can’t just walk away. I’ll get word to you. I know how to. But what I need from you even more is for you not to trust anyone until I see you. No one. You’ll promise me that, won’t you, baby?”

“Dad, please…”

“You owe me that, Kate. Until we talk. Not the FBI, not Cavetti. Not even Greg. You know I’d never do anything to harm you, don’t you?”

“I know that, Daddy.” Kate shut her eyes.

“So I can count on you… You promise me?”

Her mouth was as dry as sandpaper. She nodded, and the word dropped off her lips like a falling weight. “Yes.”

“That’s my little girl.” Her father’s voice regained its reassuring quality. “I’ll be in touch. You know it’s just about family now, pumpkin. Like I always told you. Family. That’s all we have left.”

He hung up. Kate stood there in the starkness of the lab.

No one had ever mentioned anything about Margaret Seymour being tortured.

How would he have known that? How would he know the horror that had been done to her?

It was only family now.

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

“Kate!”

She had just come home from work. Greg was at some two-day medical conference for the new job. She had stopped at the cleaners on Second Avenue. She had just put the key in the door to her building’s lobby.

Kate turned, anxious, expecting to see her father. For the past few days, she’d been afraid he’d be waiting for her around every corner.

Instead she was staring at Phil Cavetti.

“Don’t you guys ever just call?” Kate exhaled, not knowing whether to feel anxious or relieved.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he answered, coming up with an apologetic smile. “You mind if we talk?”

“Everything’s fine, Cavetti. I meant to write, but things have just been a little too hectic lately. I don’t need the protection anymore.”

He nodded with his chin. “I meant upstairs.”

Kate had not forgotten for a minute how they’d used her. How they’d broken into her apartment and tapped her phones. How they’d hidden everything from her-her father’s disappearance, pretending to be protecting her-when all along it was Mercado they were protecting, his secrets. Now Kate understood they were hiding a whole lot more.

In the elevator Cavetti looked at her arm and asked how she was doing.

“Better,” Kate replied, softer. She gave him a bit of a smile, realizing she’d been abrupt. “Really. Thanks.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t exactly look so much better.”

Kate knew that it had all been taking a toll on her. She knew she looked a little puffy and drawn. She hadn’t been eating so well since she’d spoken with her father. Or sleeping. She still couldn’t row. Once or twice she’d forgotten to give herself her insulin. Her blood levels were the most elevated they’d been in years.

“Don’t feel obliged to continue with the compliments,” Kate said. “They’re not working.”

The elevator opened on seven. “You remember the place, don’t you, Cavetti? You remember Fergus?” Kate opened the door, and the dog came up and sniffed Cavetti. The WITSEC agent nodded guiltily at the jab.

“He’s been alone all day, so I’ve got about a minute before he takes it out on the rug. You wanted to talk?”

“I was just up in Buffalo,” he said.

Kate nodded as if impressed. “I know the job can be dull, but at least you get to travel to strange and exciting places.” She sat back on the arm of the couch. Cavetti didn’t sit down.

“A woman was killed there,” he said awkwardly. “I was called up to take a look.”

Kate snorted. “What, no pictures this time?”

“Kate, listen, please.” He took a step toward her. “She wasn’t just killed. The palms of her hands were burned black. Someone held them over a gas flame until the skin basically sheared away from her hands. This was a fifty-year-old woman, Kate.”

“I’m sorry.” Kate stared at him. “But why are you here? Are you going to tell me my father did that, too?”

“Two FBI men, a deputy marshal guarding her, and an innocent bystander were murdered as well.”

Kate flinched. A pain knifed through the pit of her stomach. She was sorry.

“Kate, I need to ask you something, and you have to be truthful with me, whatever you may think. When was the last time you spoke with him, Kate?”

She looked down. It all scared her. She knew she should tell him. The photo of Mercado and her dad. The old man in the park. Her father’s call from the other day…Five more people were dead. The longer she hid it, the more she was part of it. She was afraid that Cavetti could see right through her and it would all come tumbling out.

“Kate, the woman had her palms burned off. First the one. Then the other. By that time she’d probably already passed out from the pain. Then they put a bullet in her head.”