“It’s not him.”

“This was to get her to talk,” Cavetti went on. “Just like in Chicago. Three more of my men are dead. Your father’s looking for someone. This isn’t about protecting him any longer.”

“Then what the hell is it about?” Kate glared up at him. I know about Mercado, she wanted to say. I know you’ve been protecting him all along. What do you want with my father?

“Have you heard from him, Kate? Do you know where he is?”

“No.”

“I need you to tell me, Kate, in spite of what you may feel toward WITSEC-or me. I know I haven’t been entirely truthful, but I only wanted one thing when it came to you-as I do now-and that is your absolute safety. I’ll put my life on the line for that. If you’re holding back, you’re getting yourself deeper into something you won’t be able to control.”

He was right. She was putting herself right in the middle of it. Five more people were dead. But what was she supposed to do, meet him and have her father dragged away in cuffs?

Kate looked at him closely. “I can’t help you.” She shook her head.

The WITSEC agent nodded. She knew he was unconvinced. He reached into his jacket pocket and came out with a folded piece of paper.

Another photograph.

“I knew you couldn’t help yourself, Cavetti.”

“What I’m about to show you, only a handful of people have ever seen.” The way the photo was folded, only half of it was visible. “I want you to look closely and tell me, have you ever seen this man before?”

He handed it to her. Kate’s hand trembled as she took it. As she looked, her heart crawled up into her throat.

It was the man in the park. Oscar Mercado. The weathered beard, the flat tweed cap. As if the picture were taken just the other day.

A jolt rippled through her. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into, just that it was getting deeper. And she no longer knew who was telling the truth.

Her eyes found Cavetti’s. “No.”

The WITSEC agent nodded with a skeptical sigh. Kate handed back the photo. He looked at her as though her lie were written all over her face.

“You’re a smart gal, Kate, but now I need you to be smarter than you’ve ever been in your life and level with me. Are you sure?”

“Who is he?”

“No one.” Cavetti shrugged. “Just a face.” Maybe if he told her, she could do the same. This was his chance to come clean, too.

She shook her head again. “No.”

“As long as I’m breaking new ground”-the agent smoothed his salt-and-pepper hair-“I’m going to do something else I’ve never done before.” This time he reached into his side pocket and came out with a solid object wrapped in a white handkerchief.

Kate’s heart slowed.

“It’s untraceable,” Cavetti said. “If it ever comes out I gave this to you, I’ll deny it. It can’t be tied to me. Put it in a drawer. You may need it. That’s all I can say. There’s a safety latch on the side. You push it off. You understand?”

Kate nodded, suddenly realizing what he was saying to her. Cavetti stood up and left the wrapped object lying on the chair.

“Like I told you, Kate, what I’m trying to do here is for your own protection.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, and met his eyes with a tight but appreciative smile.

Cavetti stepped toward the door. Kate stood up. All of a sudden, whatever anger and distrust she felt for him disappeared. Tell him, Kate.

“Who was she?” Kate asked. “The woman in Buffalo.”

Cavetti reached into his jacket. He took out the photo again. This time he unfolded the side that had been hidden.

Next to the man in the flat golf cap was a smiling, warm-faced, middle-aged woman, a white Lab sitting at her knees.

Kate stood still, staring at the photo.

Cavetti shrugged, stuffing it back into his pocket as he opened the door. “Just someone’s wife.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY

One good thing was happening amid everything else. Greg agreed to the job up at New York-Presbyterian.

The Morgan Stanley Center was one of the best pediatric orthopedic programs in the city. It also meant they could stay in the city. Greg joked that he’d probably have to be on call every other weekend for a year and, as low resident, work every Christmas and Thanksgiving-probably Haitian Pride Day as well-but the position came with a real doctor’s salary-over a hundred and twenty grand, plus a forty-thousand-dollar signing bonus. And an office overlooking the Hudson River and the George Washington Bridge.

Friday night Kate took him out for a celebratory dinner at Spice Market with a bunch of his friends from the ER.

The following morning they borrowed a friend’s van and moved all of Greg’s old medical texts and other belongings that had been crammed into boxes in the apartment up to his office. They parked on Fort Washington Avenue and wheeled everything up through the Harkness Pavilion to Pediatric Orthopedics on the seventh floor.

Greg’s office was cramped-not much larger than a Formica-topped desk with two fabric chairs and a bookshelf-but it had that impressive view. And it was a real thrill to see his name in bold letters on the door: DR. GREG HERRERA.

“So”-Greg kicked open the door, exposing the Hudson, his arm wrapped around a carton of books-“what do you think?”

“I’m thinking I want dibs on the new space all this stuff frees up in the apartment.” Kate, who was carrying a desk lamp, grinned.

“Knew you were proud of me, hon.” He winked.

Greg unloaded his boxes. Kate started hanging his medical diplomas on the wall.

“How about this?” She picked up an old photograph they had taken on a holiday in Acapulco, where, a little blotto and bleary-eyed from margaritas in the middle of the day, they had posed at the table in the local Carlos’n Charlie’s with a live chimpanzee. The chimp was a shill, of course. Cost them fifty dollars. He was probably the only one in the place who wasn’t drunk.

Kate held it up next to the diplomas.

“Nah.” Greg shook his head. “Not very Hippocratic. Maybe I should wait until I’m made a full partner somewhere.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that, too.” Kate nodded, placing it back on the desk. “However, there is something this seems like a good time to give you…”

She bent down and took out a gift-wrapped box from one of the cartons. “To my own Dr. Kovac.” Kate smiled. They always joked about the likable Croatian doctor on ER. Kate thought Greg had the same moppy hair, sleepy eyes, and unique accent.

“I didn’t want you to feel left out on your first day of work.”

Greg pulled off the ribbon. What he saw inside made him laugh.

It was an old black leather doctor’s bag. Circa 1940. Complete with an antique-looking stethoscope and reflex hammer.

“Like it?”

“Love it, pooch. It’s just that…” Greg scratched his head as if stumped. “I’m not sure I even know what these old things do.”

“I got it on eBay,” Kate said. “I just didn’t want you to feel left out, technologically speaking.”

“I’ll be sure and bring it on rounds.” He took out the stethoscope and placed it against Kate’s T-shirt, over her heart. “Say ah.”

“Ah…” Kate said, giggling.

Greg maneuvered it seductively across her chest. “That’s ah… Again, please.”

“You just make sure the only one you ever use that on is me,” she said, teasing. “Seriously, though…” Kate draped her arms around his neck and edged her leg between his. “I couldn’t have held together these past weeks without you. I’m really proud of you, Greg. I know I’ve been crazy, but I’m not crazy when I say this: You’re going to make a great doctor.”

It was one of the first tender moments they’d had in a long time. Kate realized how much she missed it. She gave him a kiss.

“You do know I already am a doctor.” He shrugged with a sheepish smile.