She held up her hand. "If you want to stay as you are, that's perfectly fine, too. You just need to tell me-do you want to stay as you are, Jacob?"

He shook his head. That would mean that he was a guy who wasn't good enough. A failure to make the cut, and he wasn't a failure.

He was better than that.

His life had way more meaning than that.

"No, I want to advance." He was an elite protector.

It's what he did. It's what he was drawn to do.

Diane leaned back in her chair and stared at him for a long time. He thought she was wrong for doing this. In his opinion, she was being too zealous with his case.

But Jacob had worked for the government long enough to know that the bureaucracy game must be played. And if he didn't play it, the results were to his peril.

He stood. "Fine. I'll get that information for you. But I'd like my case expedited. Can you..." He swallowed. "Can you help me with that?"

She nodded. "Yes, I can. But you need to show me you're open to what I'm exploring with you."

Brusquely he nodded.

"Go see your mother today. I'll wait for the results. We'll talk again once you have them."

She had no idea what she was asking him to do.

At least he saw what the consequences of failure to play the game were, though. Eddie had moved on to get what he wanted, and Jacob hadn't.

An hour later, Jacob had signed out for an extended lunch break and was steering his SUV up the West Side Highway. As he drove, he watched the seabirds swoop over the broad Hudson River, which was glistening in the sun. He wished he could be as carefree.

Seeing his mom about this wouldn't be easy for him. She'd never been the most stable person. She'd been brought up in foster homes, she'd married his father at eighteen, and his father had left them when she was twenty and Jacob was almost two. He didn't even remember Scotland; didn't remember the move to New York City where he and his mom had lived with her cousin-his mom cleaning houses and babysitting-until she'd met Daniel when Jacob was ten.

Jacob had spent his youth mostly concerned about taking care of and protecting his mom. A tough Brooklyn kid, often angry, sometimes confused, he'd fantasized about someday going to Scotland and telling off his father.

But then his father had been killed, and that was that. His mom had been married to Daniel by then, and Jacob's oldest half brother, Danny Jr., was just a baby.

It was the same year they'd moved from Brooklyn to Connecticut. His mom was happy, and Daniel was good for her. Jacob saw the writing on the wall-her loyalties were shifting. He wasn't the center of her life anymore.

But that was okay because the year before, he'd met Eddie. Eddie had moved to their Brooklyn neighborhood, and they'd become best friends, both wanting to be cops when they grew up.

His stepdad was teaching at a private secondary school in Manhattan that year, so Jacob had been adopted and then enrolled in his school, tuition-free. Jacob had never really had to deal too much with fitting in to his mom's new family. He'd coped by building his own life, focusing on his own dreams.

And being better at it than his father. He'd never said a word about it to anybody, not even to Eddie, and especially not to his mom.

Trying not to think too much about how he was going to bring up the question of the birth certificate to her, he headed toward rural Connecticut and the area where he'd lived for one year, until he'd transferred to boarding school permanently.

When he pulled into his mother and stepfather's driveway an hour later, he felt as if he was visiting a foreign country. He'd never been part of this cul-de-sac world.

But it was beautiful and safe, and he was glad his mother and three half siblings were part of it.

He slammed the door to the SUV, realizing he'd brought his service weapon with him by force of habit. He touched the cold steel strapped to his side. So much a part of him that he often forgot it was there.

His mom hated guns. Before he headed up the walkway to the large, new colonial home on the hill, he went back and secured the revolver inside the locked case in his vehicle, specially made for this purpose.

Two of his three younger half siblings-sixteen-year-old Emily and twelve-year-old Zach-were hanging out at the top of the driveway together, near the garage doors.

Zach was shooting baskets, while Emily typed on her phone. It seemed early in the afternoon for them to be out of school, but what did Jacob know?

They barely looked up when he pa.s.sed.

"Hi," Jacob said, pausing for a moment on the driveway beside the pots of mums and arrangements of pumpkins and gourds. His mother was obsessed with domestic perfection-the place looked like a Martha Stewart catalog. "What are you two up to?"

Emily stared at her screen as she murmured, "We have a planned half day. Why are you out of work?"

Zach kept shooting baskets. The ball hit the rim, and he grimaced, then looked at Jacob as if feeling bad that Jacob had seen him miss.

Jacob retrieved the ball and tossed it to Zach. "Try again," Jacob said.

Zach lined up his shot and then jumped, following through nicely. This time, the ball swished through the net. Zach grinned.

"Great job," Jacob said.

Emily glanced up from her phone, watching him.

"I'm here to talk with Mom," he said to her.

Emily frowned and put her phone down. She looked at Jacob from side to side. "Are you wearing your gun?" she asked, staring at the spot beneath his suit jacket where he usually kept his weapon.

Jacob shifted on his feet. It was pretty obvious to him that Emily didn't share much enthusiasm for what he did for a living, either. "No. It's locked up."

Emily breathed a sigh of relief. "Mom doesn't like it when you bring your gun to the house."

Yeah, he knew that. It also appeared that Emily had maybe co-opted his old job and was acting as a gatekeeper, granting access to and protecting his mom. Jacob could have said a lot more about it, but he simply chose to nod.

Emily was just a kid. She was a good kid, from what he'd seen, but he wasn't going to be the one to bring up adult topics with her.

"Play one-on-one with me," Zach said to Emily, tossing her the basketball. She hopped up, complying. Jacob watched them for a minute, hating that he was thinking about Diane, the psychologist. As if he were seeing the scene through her eyes.

His half siblings were comfortable together. They went to a big public high school-except for Danny Jr., who, at twenty, was in community college. Danny, Emily and Zach were easy with each other; they were not easy with Jacob. He'd been ten when his mother had remarried, twelve when Danny was born.

All of them had lived through that day with the blowup after he'd announced he was going into law enforcement.

Jacob jogged up the steps, hoping that he'd catch his mom alone, knowing now that it was unlikely. Daniel now taught math-he was department head-in the same high school his children attended. If the kids were home, then chances were good that he was, too.

His mom was standing alone in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables and putting them into a stockpot. She didn't see him, so he watched her, instantly recognizing that she was making chicken soup, great for a cold, bl.u.s.tery late-November day.

His mom loved to cook. When she and Jacob had been living alone in a tiny Brooklyn walk-up, their kitchen had been too small for her to make much more than the basics. Here, in her domestic paradise, she had a state-of-the-art "country colonial" work s.p.a.ce.

He was happy for her, really. Besides that, his mouth watered and his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten well in days, with missed meals and grabbed bites, always on the go, it seemed. Those root vegetables she was handling had probably come from her late-summer garden.

She blinked to see him standing there, watching her. "Jacob."

"Hi, Mom." He gave her a peck on the cheek.

"You didn't call," she said, glancing up and down at the suit he was wearing, his Secret Service clothing. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Sorry." He should've changed. "I'm just stopping by, I can't stay long."

Her shoulders seemed to relax a bit. "I'm making soup for dinner."

"I saw. It looks really good."

She wiped her hands on her jeans. "Why did you stop by?"

He couldn't tell her exactly why. He knew what he needed, but he hadn't figured out quite how to say it.

I want to grab some paperwork from the den. But that was ridiculous-Jacob had no paperwork in the den. He'd never even lived in this beautiful house. She and Daniel had planned it and overseen its new construction during his freshman year in college.

She tilted her head. "Jacob?" The musicality in her voice reminded him of Isabel's soft Scottish accent.

He looked away. He hated that he had to do this to her. "I've applied for a new job at work, and they've asked me for some extra doc.u.ments. Specifically, they need my original birth certificate."

She stiffened visibly. "Didn't you tell them that Daniel is your father? That's what's important."

"Of course I told them. But...you know the government." He held up his hands. "We used to have that box-I think I saw it last in the bottom drawer of the desk in the den. How about if I just check it and see if-"

"It's not there." She licked her lips and bent over the stove again. "Maybe you should talk to your father about this."

"Mom, I'm sorry," he said. "I don't like this any more than you do."

He liked it less than she did, actually, because he hated hurting her.

She'd been through enough. He didn't want to ever see her cry again. He just wanted her to be happy.

"Please talk to Daniel." Her voice sounded somewhat shrill.

As if on cue, Daniel came into the kitchen. "Is everything all right in here? Oh, Jacob. I didn't know you were expected. Are you staying for dinner?"

"No," Jacob said.

Behind him, a door closed. His mother had left, gone into the bathroom.

Daniel sighed like the long-suffering teacher of adolescents that he was. Then he looked warily at Jacob. He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen island as if creating his plan of attack. Daniel was nothing but rational.

"What's going on, Jacob?" he said in a neutral voice.

"Do we have a copy of my original birth certificate anywhere?" Jacob asked point-blank.

Daniel recoiled. "After everything that's happened, I'd rather you didn't come here with topics like that. You know you'll upset your mother."

"I'm asking you," Jacob said quietly. "It's a simple request."

"Why? What's the point?"

"Because I need it for work."

Daniel c.o.c.ked his head. "Opening a can of worms about the past does no one any good. Focus on the future. You can't live your life by watching the wake from the boat behind you."

"I am, Daniel. It's for work," he repeated. "The government."

Daniel nodded. "Well. Tell them that some things are unknowable. Tell them our family doesn't keep reminders of what's left in the past. I tell my students-"

"Have you ever had a kid who needed to know something?" Jacob interrupted. "Because this isn't something that's a nice-to-know. It's a need-to-have."

"Dad?" Emily was standing in the doorway. She glanced sideways at Jacob as she walked in to hug her father. "Can you give me a ride to cheering practice?"

"Of course," Daniel said. He turned to Jacob. "Are you staying for dinner?"

Jacob smiled gently at Emily. He didn't like her seeing that there was tension between them. "No, sorry, I have to get back to the city," he answered Daniel cordially.

"I hope we'll see you for Thanksgiving dinner," Daniel said.

Jacob hadn't thought about it yet, or even checked his schedule. "I'm not sure if I have to travel yet, but I'll let you know."

"Yes, please do call your mother. She's planning dinner for two, after Emily's game. You know she'd like to see you for the holiday."

Jacob nodded. He was aware that they were being rational and adult, for Emily's sake. She stared between him and Daniel, listening to everything.

"I'll say goodbye to Mom and then follow you out to the car," Jacob said to Daniel. To Emily, he smiled and said, "Have a good practice."

Then he went and knocked on the bathroom door. "Mom? I'm sorry I upset you," he said through the door. "I love you and I'll try to see you on Thursday."

His mom opened the door and came out, drying her hands on a towel.

"I'm sorry, too." She met his eyes for the first time. "Stay safe," she whispered.

The guilt pierced him. It always pierced him. But he cracked a smile for her, knowing her fears were unfounded. He wasn't Donald Ross. He was Jacob Ross.

Still, he left, aware that he'd failed in his one small mission to get a birth certificate for his employment record.

It was a c.r.a.pshoot, anyway, Jacob told himself as he headed for his SUV. Since there weren't any photos of his father in the house, it probably wasn't much of a stretch not to have Jacob's original birth certificate on hand, either.

An hour and a half later, Jacob was back at work.

He went out with a new case partner-not Eddie, who was spending the day watching training videos in preparation for his big move-and retrieved surveillance video from a convenience store in Chinatown, then came back and wrote up some paperwork for a handwriting-a.n.a.lysis request.

He didn't get his work finished until well after dark. Back at his apartment, there was no food in the kitchen, and he didn't feel like eating out, so Jacob ordered Thai food, and after it was delivered, he brought the bag into the living room and set it on the coffee table.

Jacob rubbed the back of his neck. His life felt as if it had twisted into noodles, as big a mess as his pad Thai lumped into its cardboard carton. The only thing he liked about his complicated situation was that it had twisted him up with Isabel.