Silence.

"Is that correct?" I said.

"Yes."

"And he worked as a police profiler."

"That's right."

"He worked for the Detroit police."

"That's correct."

"He worked on Mob cases, right?"

"Yes, Isabel." She was growing a little weary now. Any witness being cross-examined gets to that point-where they are simply tired of it. That was fine. I knew exactly where to go from there.

"And at the time my father died, he was working on the case of the Rizzato Brothers, is that right?"

A pause. Then, "That's right."

"The Rizzato Brothers were Camorra."

She glanced over my shoulder as if she were looking for someone. "That is what I've heard."

I followed her gaze. We were still alone on the deck. "You're not sure?"

"No, I suppose that is correct."

I heard my trial professor-Always get an exact answer to your question.

Elena shifted slightly on the chair and adjusted her silver sungla.s.ses.

"Elena," I said, "would you mind removing your sungla.s.ses?"

Though I'd said it kindly, it was a rather forceful request from a niece to an aunt, but my aunt complied. Her eyes, brown and flecked with green, were sad, and a little confused. I hated that confusion, and yet it was exactly what I needed to see.

"So, I'll ask again. The Rizzato Brothers were known to be members of the Camorra, right?"

"Yes, Isabel. Why all these questions?" Another glance over my shoulder.

"Just give me a few more minutes. I'm trying to figure out something."

She bowed her head a little as if to say, Continue.

"Thank you. Now, the Brothers Rizzato, who were Camorra-they were from Ischia, correct?"

"I suppose I have heard that."

"You've heard that?"

"Yes."

"Okay. And Ischia is outside of Naples, isn't it?"

"Yes.

"And Naples is the home of the Camorra, right?"

Elena nodded, and in that instant, I felt as if I were back in the courtroom. I could see myself standing at a distance from the witness, then moving closer.

"And last night in Naples," I said as I scooted forward on the lounge chair, leaning a little toward Elena. "I was chased by two men with guns."

She shook her head quickly, her eyes blinking. "Is that true? Did that happen?"

"It happened. In Naples. And do you know, Elena, that the day before I was at the antimafia office in Rome, asking about the Camorra?"

"I did not know." Her eyes were alarmed.

"And at the antimafia office, I asked about my father. I also mentioned the fact that he was working on a Camorra case when he was killed."

Elena dropped her head in her hands. When she looked back up at me, her eyes were in agony. "Is that true?"

"It's true. What is also true is that your family, this family-" I pointed to my chest "-has believed their father to be dead for all these years. It is true that I-" once again I pointed to myself "-will not stop asking about him. I will not stop asking questions. I will never, never stop. So let me ask you a simple question now-Isn't it, true, Elena, that you do not want your family to be in torment?"

"No," she said. "Of course, I do not."

"And you do not want your family to be in danger, do you?"

"No. I do not."

"And you do not want your family to live like this anymore, do you?"

Elena began to cry, or rather, a single tear slipped from her right eye. She acted as if it hadn't happened. She didn't move to brush it away.

"I was thinking about something this morning," I said. "You didn't go to his funeral."

She didn't reply. And right then I decided to deviate from cross-examination rules and go for it. "You didn't attend the funeral, because you knew it wasn't true. You knew he wasn't dead. Isn't that right?"

She didn't reply right away. But she did respond-she nodded.

37.

A mericani. You could tell even from this distance.

He stopped for a moment and watched them. No matter what their looks, their personalities, their age, they all had a certain coltish quality that was easy to spot. Particularly for an Italian, someone forever jaded, whose ancestors had seen so much more than any americano could even imagine.

He wondered who they were. Strange that she seemed to know them, and yet he had no knowledge of these people. He moved closer, staying low behind a surrounding circle of shrubs, until he could hear their conversation but was still hidden from view.

One of them, a woman with pale skin, was questioning her, asking about family members, it sounded like.

But then she began asking about the System, talking as if she knew something about it, which was strange since most americani knew nothing of the Camorra. That used to bother the System. Now they realized that this lack of knowledge could actually help them. They could operate covertly, until the americani would look around one day and realize not only who the Camorra were, but that they were a strong force, part of the American fabric.

So, this was strange, this americana speaking to her, her words coming forth quicker.

He listened, and then he listened some more. When the questions began to get more precise, and the answers continued to stay in the affirmative, he started to frown. Possibilities formed in his mind and were discarded until it began to dawn on him exactly of whom they were speaking.

He got a feeling he didn't like at all, a feeling that he had been duped, and by one of his own. Someone he'd thought of as part of himself. He clenched his fists as he listened to the rest.

Then he heard the americana say, You didn't attend the funeral because you knew it wasn't true. You knew he wasn't dead. He strained in antic.i.p.ation to hear the response. At first there wasn't one, but eventually they began to talk and he heard the words, I will take you to him.

His mind seethed, a fire lit up every portion of his brain and at the same time ignited and destroyed what was left in his heart for her. Unbelievable that he had fallen for this. Unbelievable that she had known all this time. That she had lied to him. To him. He had spared her. He had pleaded her cause when others in the System wanted to destroy her. He was the reason she was living right now, that she was who she was.

Not for long....

But no. He caught himself. Retribution and brute force was the old way of the System. It had worked for a long, long while, but now it was backfiring, causing uproar and strengthening the government forces that wanted to eliminate them.

He took a step toward a stone wall and put his back against it, thinking. If this came out, it could fall on his own head because he should have seen it, he should have known. Somehow he would have to handle this before anyone in the System heard about it or understood it. And then there would be retribution for her. Then he would take care of her. Then it would finally end.

When he heard her making plans to go back to the hotel, to pack her things and take the young woman to Roma, he knew he would be on that trip, only they wouldn't be aware of it.

38.

I said goodbye to Theo at the train station. His hair fell forward as he looked down at me. He tucked a lock behind his ears. I remembered when I had done that to him last night. It seemed aeons ago.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

I looked up at him. "I have no idea."

"Is she really taking you to meet him?"

"That's what she says."

"This is surreal," Theo said.

"Tell me about it." My mind skittered about, unable to stop on one thought.

Theo said once more, "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

I turned back to him. "I honestly don't know. Because here's the thing. I don't know who I am now."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel like...I don't know how to put it..." I thought about it, but my thoughts kept jumping one to another, different voices attached to them, all talking. One voice, who clearly didn't care about my no-swearing campaign, was screaming, Are you f.u.c.king kidding me? He's ALIVE? Another, who sounded as if she was softly weeping, said, I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand.

"I feel like I'm not who I thought I was," I said to Theo. "I'm not half-orphaned. If you really think about it, I'm someone who was, well, abandoned. I mean, my father is alive. He left us."

"But you don't know why."

I looked over my shoulder at Elena. "She says she's going to tell me everything on the train back to Rome. She says he's there. In Rome."

I turned back again. I stared across the station. Pa.s.sengers were hurrying to the track area. Everyone looked so normal.

I gazed up at Theo. "Thanks so much for being here."

"Are you sure I can't go with you? I don't need to fly back. And I could have the pilot meet me in Rome."

I shook my head. "You have to get to work. You told me you could only be gone a day or two."

He stared at me for a moment, which gave me a second to stare back. His upper lip, perfectly shaped with two pink peaks, disappeared as his bottom teeth bit it, and he looked as if he was thinking hard.

"I've never seen you make that expression," I said.

He stopped biting his lip. "What expression?"

I shook my head. "Never mind." There was still so much about Theo that I didn't know, but whether it mattered now, I couldn't tell. It seemed as if my life had been split in two big books-Before I Knew My Father Was Alive; After I Knew My Father Was Alive. I felt as if I was on a freaking soap opera. The shrill voice in my head piped up again. Who has a dead parent who's not really dead, for f.u.c.k's sake?

"Look, I don't care about work," Theo said.

"Of course you do. You have a company to run..." I trailed off, stumbling over another thing I didn't know about Theo. I knew generally about his company, knew it was legit, but we didn't talk about things like work. We didn't talk that much at all, I suppose. And yet despite the absence of all the technical information about him, I felt I knew him. And that I adored him.

"I'll throw work to the curb right now if you need me to," he said.

"I don't know what I need. All I know is she's going to take me to him." I said this as if by repeating it, it would sink in.

Suddenly, I felt as if I had taken some kind of drug. I remembered in law school when Maggie and I thought it would be fun to take mushrooms. It wasn't. The whole experience seemed enjoyable at the start, and then it had all gone bad, bizarre; it felt broken. And that was exactly what the search for my father had been like-almost exciting at first, fantastical, but then it had spun away from me and now seemed ugly, sinister, wrong.

"Izzy!" Maggie called across the station. She held Bernard's hand with one of hers and with the other pointed at the board, where lit-up track numbers and departure times were quickly changing and flashing. It was hard to know which one to concentrate on. "Our train is about to leave."

I looked at Theo and smiled. "You're the best for coming. For putting up with all this."

"I didn't put up with anything but some fun."

"Oh, you think getting chased by guys with guns is fun?"

"h.e.l.l, yeah. It'll make a good story for my boys back home."