The Blue Zone

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

Kate stayed on the train for what seemed like hours. She rode it all the way downtown to 59th Street, then wandered through the crowded station in a daze and took the Broadway line all the way back uptown.

Her world had just been cracked in two.

She had seen her mother killed. Her closest friend shot and in a coma. Her father go from the person she loved and admired most in the world to someone whose very voice now riddled her with doubt and fear.

Yet with all that had happened, she had never felt alone. Because she’d always had Greg. She knew she could always come back to him. He made her feel whole.

Until now.

Now she didn’t know where to go. To the police? Cavetti? Tell them everything. Her father’s connection to Mercado. That he had set up his own arrest. That he was after his own brother. That she had spoken with him.

That her own husband might be part of it, too.

The rattling rhythm of the train soothed her. She rode it all the way back uptown, past 168th Street. She didn’t know where to go. Only that soon she’d have to make a decision. She couldn’t go home. That was where Greg would be. She couldn’t face him. Not now.

That was when the PA announced: “ Dyckman Street -next stop.”

It was like something out of a dream. That was the answer. At least for a while. Kate got off there. She ran down the stairs and headed toward the river.

The boathouse was only a short walk away.

In the cold of the November afternoon, Kate leaned against the pier. Only a few staunch rowers were braving the bitter chill out there today. A club-team eight was powering out by the big Columbia C. Kate could hear the coxswain: “Stroke…stroke…” She huddled in her sweatshirt, the wet breeze whipping her face and hair.

Had it always been arranged? Had Greg always been part of this? Meeting, falling in love, every time they laughed, danced, talked about their lives, found things for their apartment. Every time they’d made love.

Had it all been part of the same plan?

The nausea came back, the sweeping violent, unstoppable surge. When it subsided, a numbed feeling took its place, like she’d been battered, every bone broken. Enervated.

They’ve won. They’ve beaten you, Kate. Give up. Don’t try to figure it out any longer. Just find Cavetti. Tell him everything. Who are you protecting now? Why can’t you just do the one smart thing?

Let it out. There’s nothing to keep inside. She pressed her palms against her eyes and started to cry. They had won. Beaten her. She had nothing left. She had no one to trust anymore.

Her phone vibrated again. It was Greg-he’d been leaving frantic messages-for maybe the fifteenth time. “Kate, pick up, please…”

This time she flipped it open. She didn’t know why. A bitter anger was clawing its way through every aching pore.

“Kate!” Greg shouted when he heard her pick up. “Please let me explain.”

“Explain.” Her voice was a dull, derisive snort. She’d scream at him if only she had the strength for rage. “Why don’t you start with who you are, Greg? Who am I suddenly married to? Or what your name is really? My name! Why don’t you start with that? You want to explain, Greg? Explain what I’ve been feeling for the past four years. Who I’m sleeping next to. Start with how you found me?”

“Kate, listen, please… I admit, I was asked four years ago to get to know you-”

“To get to know me?” Nothing he might have said could have sounded quite so cruel.

“To watch out for you, Kate. That’s all, I swear. I can’t lie-what you saw in that book is real. My name is Concerga. And I’m not from Mexico City. I’m sorry, Kate. But I fell in love with you. That part was always real. That part is the truth, I swear it on my life. I never thought in a million years this would ever come out.”

“But it did, Greg,” she said. “It did come out. So who is it you work for, Greg?”

“I don’t work for anybody, Kate. Please…I’m your husband.”

“No, you aren’t my husband. Not now. Who have you been keeping tabs on me for? Because it’s over now, Greg. I release you. From the duty. This deber of yours-the debt is cleared.”

“Kate, it’s not what you think. Please, tell me where you are. Let me come and talk to you.” There was a desperation in his voice, and it hurt her not to respond, but she no longer had any hold on what was real. “I love you, Kate. Don’t turn me away.”

“Go away,” Kate said. “Just go away, Greg. Your job is done.”

“No,” he said. “I won’t. I’m not going to.”

“I mean it, baby,” she said. “I can’t talk to you now. Just go away.”