Kitabı oku: «Searching for Cate»

An eerie feeling wafted through Cate, as if this wasn’t real.

As if she was looking into the mirror and seeing into the past.

Joan cleared her throat, her nervousness growing. “Can I help you?”

Cate kept looking at the woman in the bed, searching for some foolproof sign. All the while knowing that there wouldn’t be one. “That all depends.”

“On what?” Joan whispered the words, now clearly fatigued.

Cate took a step toward her then stopped. She was afraid that the woman would pass out if she came any closer. Did she know? On some instinctive level?

Cate put her thoughts into words. “On whether you’re willing to admit that you’re my mother.”

Dear Reader,

The Signature Select aims to single out outstanding stories, contemporary themes and oft-requested classics by some of your favorite series authors and present them to you in a variety of formats bound by truly striking covers.

We want to provide several different types of reading experiences in the new Signature Select program. The Spotlight books offer a single “big read” by a talented series author, the Collections present three novellas on a selected theme in one volume, the Sagas contain sprawling, sometimes multi-generational family tales (often related to a favorite family first introduced in series) and the Miniseries feature requested previously published books, with two or, occasionally, three complete stories in one volume. The Signature Select program offers one book in each of these categories per month, and fans of limited continuity series will also find these continuing stories under the Signature Select umbrella.

In addition, these volumes bring you bonus features…different in every single book! You may learn more about the author in an extended interview, more about the setting or inspiration for the book, more about subjects related to the theme and, often, a bonus short read will be included. Authors and editors have been outdoing themselves in originating creative material for our bonus features—we’re sure you'll be surprised and pleased with the results!

The Signature Select program strives to bring you a variety of reading experiences by authors you’ve come to love, as well as by rising stars you’ll be glad you’ve discovered.

The excitement continues!

Warm wishes for happy reading,

Marsha Zinberg

Executive Editor

The Signature Select Program

Searching for Cate
Marie Ferrarella

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader

What if, one day, you wake up to discover that everything you believed to be true, wasn’t? That the parents you’d always loved really weren’t your parents? How would you feel? These are the emotions that FBI Special Agent Cate Kowalski finds herself facing. She’d gone into law enforcement to honor and emulate the father she’d always adored, the father who was killed in the line of duty while she was still in her teens. Now, she finds the very reason for who and what she is has been based on a lie. This is the premise behind Searching For Cate. It is Cate who is searching for herself, the way that, in part, we all search for ourselves, except that in her case she has to begin from scratch. The search for her birth parents brings her to Southern California and eventually, into the life of Dr. Christian Graywolf, a selfless physician who is also one of the walking wounded. Together, slowly, they each heal the gaping hole in the other’s soul.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And, as always, I wish you love.

To Marsha Zinberg, who asked, and Patience Smith, who said yes.

Thank you.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Bonus Features

Chapter 1

“What do you mean it’s not compatible?”

Special Agent Catherine Kowalski stared at the short, husky lab technician before her. A basket filled with vials, syringes and other blood-letting paraphernalia was looped over his arm and he looked at her as if she were a deranged troll who had wandered out of a fairy tale.

The drone of voices in the hospital corridor outside her mother’s single-care unit faded into the background as she tried to make some kind of sense of what the man had just told her.

It’s a mistake, a voice whispered in her head. But still, there was this terrible tightening in the pit of her stomach, as if she was about to hear something she didn’t want to hear.

This was absurd, she thought. Just a small foul-up, nothing more.

“She’s my mother. How could my blood type be incompatible with hers? There has to be some mistake,” Cate insisted.

There was no sympathy on the technician’s rounded, pockmarked face, just a weariness that came from doing the same laboratory procedures day after endless day. There was more than just a touch of indignation in his eyes at being questioned.

His voice was flat, nasal. “No mistake. I tested it twice.”

Her stomach twisted a little harder. Somewhere in the distance, an alarm went off, followed by the sound of running feet. She blocked it out, her mind focused on what this new information ultimately meant.

No more surprises, I can’t handle any more surprises. Cate had graduated near the top of her class at Quantico. In the field, there were few better. But on the personal front, she felt as if her life had been falling apart for the past few years.

And this might be the final tumble.

Cate’s eyes narrowed. Her voice was low, steely. “Test it again.”

Submitting to the blood-typing test had been nothing more than an annoying formality in Cate’s eyes. She’d thought it a waste of time even as she agreed.

Time had always been very precious to her.

Ever since she could remember, for reasons she could never pin down, she’d always wanted to cram as much as she could into a day, into an hour. It was as if soon, very soon, her time would run out. Over the years, every so often, she’d tried to talk herself out of the feeling.

Instead, she’d been proven to be right. Because there hadn’t been enough time, not with the father whom she adored. Officer Thaddeus Kowalski, Big Ted to his friends, had died in the line of duty, protecting one of his fellow officers during the foiling of an unsuccessful liquor store robbery. She was fifteen at the time. It seemed like the entire San Francisco police force turned out for his funeral. She would have willingly done without the tribute, if it meant having her father back, even for a few hours.

When she was a little girl, they used to watch all the old classic westerns together, and her father always told her that he wanted to die with his boots on. She’d cling to him and tell him that he could never die. He’d laughed and told her not to worry. That he wasn’t prepared to go for a very long time.

He’d lied to her and died much too soon.

As had Gabe Summer.

Special Agent Gabriel Summer, the only man she had ever allowed herself to open her heart to. Gabe, who had stubbornly assaulted the walls she’d put up around herself until they’d finally cracked and then come down. Gabe, who somehow managed to keep an upbeat attitude about everything in general and humanity in particular.

Gabe, of whom nothing more than his arm had been found in the rubble that represented a nation’s final departure from innocence on that horrific September 11 morning in 2001.

Like her father, Gabe had left her much, much too soon. They never had the chance to get married the way they’d planned, or have the children he wanted so much to have with her. The lifetime she’d hoped for, allowed herself to plan for, hadn’t happened. Because there wasn’t enough time.

And now, with her mother diagnosed with leukemia and her bone marrow discovered not to be a match, Cate had thought at the very least she could donate blood to be stored for her mother so that when a match would be found—as she knew in her heart just had to be found—at least the blood supply would be ample.

But now here was this stoop-shouldered man myopically blinking at her behind rimless eyeglasses, telling her something that just couldn’t be true.

“I can’t test it again,” he informed her flatly. “I’ve got work to do.”

Lowering his head, he gave the impression that he was prepared to ram his way past her if she didn’t let him by.

Cate planted herself in front of him. At five foot four, she wasn’t exactly a raging bull. To the undiscerning eye, she might have even looked fragile. But every ounce she possessed was toned and trained. She was far stronger than she appeared and knew how to use an opponent’s weight against him.

She temporarily halted the technician’s departure with a warning glare.

“Look, a lot goes on in the lab. You people are overworked and underpaid and mistakes are made. I need you to test my blood again. And then, if you get the same results, test hers. Just don’t come back and tell me they’re incompatible, because they’re not. They can’t be.”

The small man stepped back, his eyes never leaving her face. “Lady, you’re AB positive. Your mother’s O. I don’t care how many tests you want me to run, that’s not going to change. You give her your blood, she dies, end of story.” He drew himself up to the five foot three inches he came to in his elevator shoes. The vials in the basket clinked against one another. Annoyance creased his wide brow, traveling up to his receding hairline. “Now, I’ve got other patients to see to.”

“Problem?”

Cate recognized the raspy voice behind her immediately, even before she turned around. It belonged to Dr. Edgar Moore.

Doc Ed.

Tall, with a full head of thick silver hair that added to the impression of a lion patrolling his terrain, Doc Ed had been her family’s primary physician long before the term had taken on its present meaning. It was Doc Ed who had held her and comforted her when she’d found out about her father’s death. And it was Doc Ed who had called her at the field office to tell her to come home, that her mother needed her even if Julia Kowalski was too stubborn to get on the phone and place the call herself.

Cate had gotten herself reassigned to the San Francisco field office, where she’d initially started her career. That allowed her to see to her mother’s care. It didn’t help. Her mother’s condition was worsening by the week. By the day. Time was slipping away from her and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

On the verge of feeling overwhelmed, Cate sighed with relief. Reinforcements had arrived. Doc Ed would put this irritating person in his place.

She refrained from hugging the doctor, even though she felt the urge. Instead, fighting for control over her frayed emotions, banking down the scared feeling growing like an overwatered weed, Cate brushed aside a strand of straight blond hair that had fallen into her face.

“Doc Ed, could you please tell this man that his infallible lab has made a mistake.”

The doctor’s warm gray eyes looked from the annoyed technician to the young woman he’d known since her first bout of colic. “How’s that?”

Cate took a breath and collected herself. She hadn’t realized that her temper was so close to snapping. The restraint she’d always valued so highly was in short supply.

She gestured toward the technician and stopped to read his name tag. “Bob here is telling me that I can’t donate blood to my mother. That our blood types are incompatible.” The laugh that punctuated her statement was short and mirthless. And nervous. “We both know that can’t be true.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, they tasted bitter. Like bile. Instincts honed on the job pushed their way into her private life. Once again whispering that something was wrong. Very, very wrong. That the twisting feeling in her gut was there for a reason. There were no planes flying into buildings, no bullets firing, no cells mutating and turning cancerous, but something was still wrong. She could feel it vibrating throughout her whole body.

Because Doc Ed’s affable face had taken on a look of concern.

Cate suddenly felt like throwing up. Like running down the hall with her hands over her ears so she couldn’t hear anything, anything that would further shake up her already shaken world.

She did neither. But it was all she could do to hang on. She’d spent a good part of her life trying to be tough, trying to live up to Big Ted’s reputation. He’d had no sons and she felt she owed it to him, because in her eyes, he’d been the greatest father to ever walk the earth.

But she wasn’t sure just how much more of life’s sucker punches she could take and still remain standing, remain functioning.

“Can’t be true, right?” Cate heard herself asking quietly. Holding her breath.

Doc Ed sighed. “Cate, maybe it’s time that you and your mother talked.”

Every bone in her body stiffened, braced for an assault. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

“We talk all the time, Doc.” Her voice was hollow to her ear.

Behind her, Bob, the lab technician, took his opportunity to hurry away. She heard the rattle of the vials as he escaped down the hall. But her mind wasn’t on the other man. It was centered on the expression on Doc Ed’s face, which did nothing to give her hope.

She wasn’t going to like whatever it was that she was going to hear. She was willing to bet a year’s salary on it, and she had never been a betting person.

“At least,” she added, “I thought we talked. But I guess I thought wrong.”

Doc Ed made no answer. Instead, he lightly cupped her elbow and guided her back into the room she’d vacated several minutes ago when she’d seen the technician making his rounds. Her mother had been dozing off.

Cate had waylaid the lab tech in the hallway, once again stating her impatience. She wanted to begin donating blood, the first of what she intended to be several pints. Frustration had assaulted her even before he’d opened his mouth to tell her the bad news.

Ever since she’d learned that her mother had leukemia, Cate had felt completely frustrated. There was nothing she could do to change the course of events. When her bone marrow turned out not to be a match, it had just fed her impatience, making her that much more determined to be able to help somehow. She’d immediately taken it upon herself to spearhead a search amid the San Francisco bureau personnel and their families for a donor. So far, there had been none who matched.

More frustration.

And now, this, whatever “this” was.

“Julia.” Doc Ed’s gravelly voice was as soft as Cate had ever heard it as he addressed her mother.

The pale woman in the bed stirred and then turned her head in their direction. The look on Julia Kowalski’s face told Cate that her mother was braced for more bad news. Resigned to it.

Don’t be resigned, Mama. Fight it. Fight it!

Cate found herself blinking back tears as she approached her mother’s bed and took the small, weak hand into hers.

She could almost feel time slipping through her fingers. Her soul ached.

Julia tried to force her lips into a smile as she looked at her daughter. “Yes?” The single word came out in a whisper.

“Cate just found out that her blood doesn’t match yours.” Moving over to the bed, Doc Ed took his patient’s other hand and held it for a long moment. “Julia, it’s time.”

“Time?” Cate echoed. A shaft of panic descended, spearing her. She fought to push it away without success. Her heart hammering, she looked at the man who, over the years, she’d regarded as her surrogate grandfather. “Time for what?”

“Something that you should have been told a long time ago.” His words were addressed to her, but Doc Ed was looking at the woman in the bed as he said them. “I’ll leave the two of you alone now.” Releasing Julia’s hand and placing it gently on top of the blanket, Doc Ed made his way to the door. Pausing to look at them for a moment longer, he added, “I’ll be by later to look in on you, Julia. And Dr. Conner will be by shortly.”

Cate was vaguely aware of the reference to her mother’s oncologist as she watched the door close behind him.

Sealing her in with her mother and whatever secret the woman had kept from her all this time.

Chapter 2

Juanita Graywolf was nursing a cup of the black tar she liked to call coffee when her son, Dr. Christian Graywolf, entered the small house in Arizona where he’d grown up. Hearing the soft creak of the front door, Juanita Graywolf barely stirred in her seat. Instead, she looked at the reflection in the kitchen window directly opposite her. The window faced the garden, and west. Dawn was still making up its mind as to just how large an entrance it was going to make this morning. Darkness remained with its face pressed against the pane, helping to define her son’s image in the glass.

He was such a handsome boy, she thought. He looked like his father. Tom Graywolf had turned out rotten to the core, but he had been a handsome devil, there was no denying that. Christian was twenty-nine years old now, but he was still her boy. And once, he had been her golden child.

Until she had stolen his smile from him. His smile and his soul.

Her face gave away none of her thoughts as she took another sip of coffee. Juanita smiled at the reflection instead of at her second born. “You’re up early this morning, Christian.”

It was Monday morning and she’d risen early to have a little time with him before he returned to Bedford, California, which he and his brother now called home. But Christian’s bed was empty when she’d knocked and looked into the room. And she’d known where he had gone.

“So are you,” Christian Graywolf pointed out.

She sat up straight, like a young girl, he thought. People seeing them together mistook them for siblings, not mother and son. He was proud of her for taking care of herself. Proud of her for never giving up the way so many here did. She had always been the source of strength to him. She and Uncle Henry.

“I have a flight to catch,” he reminded her.

The flight had nothing to do with where she knew her son had been. For a moment longer, Juanita held her peace, even as her mother’s heart ached.

“And I have a schoolhouse full of students to prepare for,” she said. Turning around now to face him, she nodded toward the old-fashioned stove. It was the same one that had occupied that space when she was growing up in this same house. “Coffee’s hot.”

“And hard as usual,” he joked. Taking a cup, he filled it only halfway.

At the other end of the small house, they heard Henry stirring, mumbling to himself as he obviously ran into something in the dark. The words were all in Navajo and hard for Christian to catch. He saw his mother smiling to herself as she listened.

Henry Spotted Owl, his mother’s older brother, had come to live with them years ago, to take the place of the father he hardly remembered. And to help straighten out Lukas before his older brother was forever lost to them. Henry, an ex-boxer among other things, had done such a good job with Lukas, he’d decided to stay on and offer his own brand of rough-handed counseling to some of the other troubled teenagers on the reservation. He built a gym and gave them a way to work off their anger productively. In his late sixties and fifteen years’ his mother’s senior, the man gave no sign of letting up despite the emergency bypass surgery he’d received from Lukas some years back.

Grit and determination against all odds ran in the family. Henry had pulled himself out of a self-destructive lifestyle that would have killed him before he reached forty. Lukas had become the first of their family not just to graduate high school and college, but to become a doctor. And Christian was the second.

Christian’s mouth curved slightly. He and Lukas both owed a great deal to their mother, who had refused to follow a path of self-indulgence and self-pity, the way so many other of her contemporaries had. Just to put her sons through school, she’d worked two jobs without a word of complaint, behaving as if it was the norm.

At fifty-three, Juanita Graywolf looked younger now than he remembered her looking while he was growing up. Back then, he thought of her as just his mother, who was also a schoolteacher. Now she was principal of the school where she’d once sat in the back row as a student. It was the reservation’s only school, taking children from kindergarten to twelfth grade. His mother had almost single-handedly brought up the standard of teaching there, so that now the school was held up as an example to other reservations.

She was a remarkable woman, and he had grown up thinking that all women were that strong, that determined not to allow life to best them.

His late Alma had shown him how wrong he was.

Juanita suppressed a chuckle. “It sounds like your ride is grumbling,” she said as she nodded toward the rear of the small house.

There had been just three rooms when Henry had come to live with them, a combination living room and kitchen and two small bedrooms. The first thing Henry had done was add on his own room. After that, he’d built on another room and expanded the living room, then added a porch. Henry liked to say that he left his mark wherever he went. Truer words were never spoken.

Christian finished the remainder of the black pitch in his coffee cup and set it on the table. “Uncle Henry wouldn’t be Uncle Henry if he didn’t grumble.”

Juanita looked at her son, her mother’s heart tugging hard. He looked so sad, so different from the boy he’d once been. Her brain told her to avoid the subject, to let it slide, because to raise it would serve no purpose, heal no wounds. The fact that Christian had gone there told her that the wound he bore was far from healed.

Seasons had gone by. And it was time he let go of the past.

Long past time.

Juanita almost wished that Christian wouldn’t come home as frequently as he did. She dearly loved seeing him, loved seeing both her sons when they came to work at the clinic to tend to the sick and the forgotten. But whenever Christian came, he was also returning to the scene of his greatest heartache.

She would rather never see him again than have him relive his pain, time and again.

He needed to put it all behind him. And she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. It wasn’t in her. She set down her cup again and looked into his eyes. “You went there, didn’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He met her gaze unwaveringly. Of her two sons, Christian was the more sensitive one. The one more like her.

“Why should you?” Juanita challenged. She spoke quickly, before he could answer. Before he could defend actions that to her were undefendable. “Christian, every time you go, you come back with this look on your face, as if your heart has been torn out of your chest all over again. As if,” she emphasized, “what happened that day was your fault.”

He looked at her sharply with blue eyes that proved their lineage had allowed an interloper. “It was my fault. I was her husband, Mother. I should have seen it coming. I should have known.”

The words might be different, but the conversation was not new. They’d had it before. Many times in the past three years. It never got any better.

“The blood of the shamans runs through my veins,” Juanita reminded him. “And I did not know, did not see.” She leaned forward at the table, a new urgency in her voice as she pleaded with him. “Alma was an unhappy girl all of her life, Christian. We all saw that. We all knew that. How could we—how could you—have known that she would do such an awful thing?” she demanded.

Awful thing.

Words that could have been used to describe so many events. Somehow, they didn’t seem nearly adequate enough to apply to what had happened. Because what had happened that morning was beyond awful. Beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

Afterward, every night for a full year he’d wake up in a pool of sweat, shaking, visualizing what he hadn’t been there to see. Alma, their six-month baby girl in her arms, walking out onto the train tracks, the very same tracks that had run by the reservation ever since he could remember.

The same tracks where they’d foolishly played as children.

Except that morning she hadn’t been playing.

They were staying with his mother and Uncle Henry for a few days. He’d brought Alma and the baby with him on a working holiday, brought them so that his mother could visit with the baby. Alma had bid him goodbye as he’d gone to the clinic to work with Lukas. Both he and his brother returned as often as they could manage, to give back to the community where so many of their friends had remained.

That last trip, Alma had asked to come with him. He’d thought nothing of the request, except that perhaps she was finally finding a place for herself in the life they were carving out together. He was hopeful that she finally had put the baggage from her past into a closet and permanently closed the door on it. Because he loved her so much and tried every day to make up for the childhood she’d endured. The shame she had suffered at her father’s hands.

Alma had seemed happy enough to accompany them. Happy enough when he’d left that morning. He’d turned one last time to wave at her before climbing into the car. She was holding the baby in her arms. Picking up one of Dana’s tiny hands, she’d waved back.

There’d been no hint of what was to come in her manner.

Alma had waited until everyone was gone, his mother to the school, Uncle Henry to the gym he still ran, and then she’d taken their daughter and walked onto the train tracks. To wait for the nine-thirty train. Not to leave the reservation, but to leave life.

A life she could no longer tolerate, according to the note she’d left in her wake. She hadn’t wanted her daughter to grow up without a mother, the way she had, so she had taken the baby with her.

Lukas was the one who had broken the news to him. He remembered screaming, cursing and not much else. Except that there had been a burning sensation where his heart had been. For days afterward, he’d thought about following Alma, about making the same journey she had. Lukas kept him sedated and Lydia, his brother’s wife, kept vigil over him, making sure to keep him safe when the others weren’t around.

His whole family loved him and rallied around him. Eventually, he saw the reason for continuing to live. His tribe needed him. His patients needed him and his family loved him. So he continued. That was all the life he’d once relished with such gusto had become to him, a continuance.

He set up his practice and was affiliated with the same hospital that Lukas was. Blair Memorial in Bedford. He banked close to every cent he made, bringing it back with him whenever he came to the reservation. With the money, he purchased much needed equipment for the clinic that retained only nurses now that Doc Brown had died. He, his brother and the handful of doctors they’d gotten to volunteer their time came whenever they could.

The clinic needed so much, even now. The closest hospital to the Arizona reservation was more than fifty miles away. That barely amounted to a trip for most people, but in an emergency, it was a considerable distance, especially since most of the vehicles on the reservation were old and unreliable.

His dream was to someday have a hospital on the reservation. But until that time, he did what he could. And worked until he dropped so that he didn’t have to think, or remember.

Except that some days, it couldn’t be helped.

Moving her cup and saucer aside, Juanita reached across the table, her hand covering her son’s.

“Christian, beating yourself up isn’t going to change anything. Isn’t going to bring her or Dana back. And it’s wrong. It’s as futile as Alma constantly reliving everything that happened to her. She couldn’t let go of the past and it killed her. Don’t let what happened kill you,” she pleaded softly. “Learn from it, my son. Learn from it and grow.”

He knew his mother wasn’t giving the advice lightly. She’d been through a great deal herself. Married at seventeen to a man who betrayed her on a regular basis, she found herself suddenly widowed at thirty-two when Tom Graywolf had been killed in a barroom brawl. From somewhere, Juanita Graywolf had summoned an inner strength and made a life for herself and her two sons. Christian was well aware that he wouldn’t be where he was if it hadn’t been for her.

But right now, he didn’t want advice, didn’t want to be told what he should or shouldn’t do. The pain was there whether he stood over Alma’s grave, attended one of Blair Memorial’s surgical salons, performed an operation. It was always there to press against his chest when he least expected it and steal away the very air he breathed.

He’d married Alma, promising her that he would always be there for her, to protect her from everything. And he had failed. Failed to protect her from the inner demons that haunted her. And that failure was something he was going to have to carry around within him for the rest of his life.

He offered his mother what passed for a smile. “I’ll do what I can, Mother.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Christian saw his uncle entering the room. Short, squat and built like a bull even at his age, Henry had a vivid three-inch scar across his right cheek that he liked to refer to as his badge of courage. He’d gotten it as a young man, and in all these years, it hadn’t faded. And neither had Henry.

He helped himself to some of Juanita’s coffee, draining the cup in one long swig as if its bitterness was nothing. “You about ready, boy?” He put the cup down on the counter. “I’ve got miles to cover today, miles to cover.”

“I’m all set, just let me get my bag.”

Juanita rose from her chair, embracing Christian before he could leave the room. “Try to be happy, Christian,” she whispered.

For her sake, he smiled and nodded, even though he knew that wasn’t possible. “I’ll try, Mother,” he repeated. There was no feeling behind the words.

Chapter 3

For a moment, Cate remained where she was, near the door. Looking at her mother.

Ever since she could remember, she’d always believed in challenging herself, in seeing just how brave she could be. Her father had been her very first hero and she’d wanted to be just like him, an officer of the law who put herself out there, protecting people. Keeping them safe the way he made her feel safe.

Being brave, testing that bravery, was the first step to getting there. It wasn’t something she even thought about in the beginning. She just did her job. Even now, she would draw a line in the sand and dare herself to cross it. When one of the other field agents had recently referred to her as being fearless, she’d taken it as the highest compliment.

It was only privately that fear had gotten such a huge toehold in her life. Until the day he died, she had always thought of her father as being ten feet tall and bulletproof. Nothing could happen to him. Ever. When her mother would worry on those evenings that he was late coming home, she’d comfort her, saying it was just some loose end on the job that was keeping her father, nothing more. She never once thought that her father’s life might be in danger, that something could happen to him to permanently keep him from coming home.

When it did, the very foundations of her world cracked. They became so badly damaged that they were never quite the same again.

And neither was she.

Like the snake that had entered paradise and ultimately brought about the loss of innocence for Adam and Eve, fear entered her life the day her father was killed, forever robbing her of her innocence.

Losing Gabe had brought about another upheaval, another magnitude-nine earthquake that destroyed the foundations she’d so painstakingly repaired. Older, wiser, she was still that fifteen-year-old girl who had sobbed her heart out the July night her father was shot.

She hadn’t bothered to attempt to repair her foundations a second time. She just patched the gaping cracks as best she could and went through the motions of living her life.

Eventually, because she knew how badly her state affected her mother, she tried harder. Her enforced routine took, and while she didn’t exactly enjoy life, Cate found she could once again draw breath without pain. She rallied for her mother once again. Because the woman needed her.

Receiving news that her mother had leukemia threatened to throw her down into the bowels of hell again. Secretly, Cate clung fiercely to the threadbare hope that her mother would survive, that this was some kind of trial she had to endure, but that she would ultimately emerge on the other end of this long, dark tunnel victorious. Cate refused to entertain the thought that her mother might not make it. That Julia Kowalski’s light would be extinguished and that the sweet-tempered woman would no longer be a presence in her life. She’d lost her father and her lover. The thought of possibly losing her mother as well was too heinous to contemplate, even for a second.

And now, something besides death hovered between them. Something that threatened to destroy her world for a third time.

Or maybe it was death—not of a person, but of a belief. A belief upon which her very world had originally been founded. Each time she’d rebuilt, it was on that belief, that truth. That she was Catherine Kowalski, Big Ted and Julia’s daughter.

Was that going to be taken away from her, too?

Cate curled her fingers into her hands, as if to clutch what little power she had left. Silence blanketed the room. The only break was the sound of her mother’s labored breathing.

Say it isn’t so, Mama. Tell me I’m your little girl, your own flesh and blood. Yours and Daddy’s.

Cate remained by the door for a moment longer, trying to absorb everything she could about the woman. Holding off that first bite from the apple a moment longer.

She was acutely aware, not for the first time, that her mother and she didn’t look at all alike. Julia Kowalski was a short woman with dark brown hair and lively hazel eyes. Until this illness had begun to eat away at her, her mother had been pleasantly plump and large boned, like her husband.

Cate had always been thin, delicate, even as a little girl, despite all her attempts to bulk up and be just like her father. She was small boned and deeply frustrated by it when she was younger. To comfort her, her father told her she took after his only sister, who had died before she reached her twentieth birthday.

“Josephine was a real beauty, just like you,” he’d tell her time and again.

And she’d been content that she looked like his sister, Josephine. Even when he could produce no photographs to back up his claim, it never occurred to her to doubt him.

Cate doubted him now. Doubted everything they had ever told her, and yet she still desperately hoped that she was just being paranoid. That her imagination was running away with her.

Years on the job did that to you, Cate thought. It heightened your senses and made you ready to take on anything. It also made you see things that weren’t really there. Full-blown figures where in reality only shadows existed.

Please let there be only shadows.

Cate took a deep breath and braced herself. It was time to test her bravery again. Time to cross another line in the sand. God knew she didn’t want to. But she had to.

“Mom, what was Doc Ed talking about just now?” To her own ear, her voice trembled slightly. She fisted her hands harder, dug her nails into her palms more deeply. “Why is our blood type incompatible?”

The smile on Julia’s lips was thin, weary, and yet somehow still just as warm now as it had been when Cate had been a little girl of eight. Back then, thunderstorms would frighten her, causing her to crawl into the shelter of her mother’s arms, begging to hear stories that would distract her. Her mother always obliged.

She wasn’t eight anymore, Cate thought sadly.

“You’re a smart girl, Catie.” Julia’s voice was thin, reedy. “You know why.”

Yes, Cate thought, she knew in her soul. But until she heard the actual words, she would remain in denial. She needed that kick in the butt to make her stop playing games with herself.

Cate pressed her lips together, hating this. “Tell me.”

Julia sighed. Passing a hand over her eyes, she willed her tears back. A couple seeped out, anyway. Because she was tethered to an IV, her movement was restricted. With another bracing sigh, Julia dropped her hand to the bed. It fell as if it was too heavy to hold up.

God, how she wished Teddy had listened to her. She’d told him that it was wrong to keep this from Catie. But he’d begged. It was one of the very few times he’d asked anything of her and she couldn’t deny him, even though she knew it was wrong. Teddy had been and always would remain her childhood sweetheart, the man with the key to her heart.

With effort, Julia forced words past her lips, trying not to let the very act exhaust her. “Your father and I loved you from the moment we saw you.”

“Tell me, Mama.”

And so Julia said the words she’d promised her husband never to say. But he wasn’t here now, and if Teddy was looking down, she told herself he’d understand. “You were adopted, Catie.” She channeled every last bit of strength into her voice, determined to make Cate understand. And forgive. “You came into our lives when you were just a week old, but you were always part of us.”

In her heart, she begged Cate not to be angry at the grave omission that had been made. Julia fisted one frail hand and placed it against her breast.

“I didn’t get to carry you beneath my heart, the way your birth mother did. But I held you there when you cried because the other kids made fun of you, or when that boy you liked so much asked another girl out. I held you to my heart when your father died—and he was your father. Just as you are my daughter, Catie. In love, in spirit and in fact. In every way but the mechanics of birth.” Pushing a button on the hospital bed, Julia drew herself up as best she could, a pale shadow of the vivacious woman she’d once been. “No one could have loved you more than your father and I did. No one,” she underscored as fiercely as she could.

“It’s okay, Mama, it’s okay.”

On legs that were less than solid, Cate crossed to the lone bed in the room and took her mother’s hand. She didn’t want her to become agitated and waste what precious little strength she still had left.

Even as Cate held her mother’s hand, she could feel everything around her cracking, breaking. Shattering and raining down around her like tiny shards of glass. Cate struggled to understand why her parents would keep this from her. Were they ashamed of her, of how she had come into their lives?

Julia wrapped her fingers tightly around Cate’s, afraid to let go. Afraid that the young woman she’d loved for the past twenty-seven years would walk out the door and never come back.

But that isn’t my Catie. Catie would never leave.

“But why didn’t you ever tell me?” Cate asked.

A ragged sigh escaped Julia’s lips. “That was your father’s decision. He was afraid to let you know. When I tried to argue him out of it, he made me promise that I would never tell you.” Julia tried to read her daughter’s expression, but Cate had on what she’d once teased was her special agent face, the one that gave nothing away. Julia proceeded cautiously, as if every step on the tightrope might be her last. “Your father loved you so much, he said it would kill him if someday you wanted to go away to find your real parents.”

Digging her elbows into the mattress, Julia struggled to sit up. Shifting pillows, Cate propped her up. Julia offered her a weary smile of thanks. “We were your real parents, your father and I.”

“I know.” Cate said the words because her mother expected them. Because up until a few minutes ago, they had been true. But they weren’t now. There was a hollowness opening up inside of her, a hollowness that threatened to swallow her whole. It took everything she had not to let it register on her face.

Doggedly, Cate pressed as much as she dared. “But after Daddy died…?” She paused, searching for words. Trying desperately to absolve the woman she’d thought of as her mother. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

A helpless look entered the hazel eyes. “You were fifteen and I didn’t know how to tell you. I did try, though, several times. But every time an occasion opened up, I realized that, like your father, I was afraid, too. You have to understand, after he died, you were all I had. I didn’t want to lose you.”

After her father died, she and her mother had grown closer. So close that when it came time for her to go away to college, she opted to go to the University of San Francisco instead of a school back east the way she’d originally planned. She didn’t want to be far from her mother in case she was needed.

They’d taught her that family was everything.

How could they have said that to her, knowing what they’d known?

Cate battled back the bitter anger as she lightly squeezed her mother’s hand. Trying to remember only the good times. “You wouldn’t have lost me, Mama.”

The look in Julia’s eyes said she knew better. “I’ve lost you now.”

She couldn’t allow her to think like that. If Julia was going to get well, she needed only positive energy in her life. Cate was determined to provide it. She knew she owed it to the other woman.

“Shh, don’t talk nonsense. I’m here and I’m always going to be here.” Cate took the once robust woman into her arms. Julia felt as if she weighed next to nothing and it broke her heart. “You just make sure that you do the same, understand?”

“I’m trying, Catie,” Julia whispered hoarsely. “I’m trying.”

“Yes, Mama, I know you are.”

The problem was, Cate thought, she was afraid that it just wasn’t enough. A cold fear gripped her heart once again.

Chapter 4

When her mother fell asleep, Cate slipped out into the parking lot and drove the five miles over to Doc Ed’s office.

Rhonda, the nurse who had been with him for the past ten years, looked somewhat surprised to see her and even more surprised when she asked to speak with the doctor. The nurse obligingly sandwiched her in between patients.

Cate ignored the exasperated look the woman in the waiting room gave her as she walked by and went into the inner office.

The doctor’s terrain was as familiar as the back of her own hand. Three exam rooms huddled together, with Doc Ed’s personal office at the end of the tiny hall. All three charts were in the slots that hung on the outside of the doors. It reminded her of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, except that she was in search of something far more important than porridge and comfortable sleeping accommodations.

She knocked once on Doc Ed’s door and let herself in before he gave his permission. If he was surprised to see her, he hid it well.

Cate struggled to hold in her hurt and anger. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Doc Ed put down the file he was reviewing and indicated that she should take the chair that was before his scarred desk. Old-fashioned in his methods, he put the patient before the fee and there was no computer on his desk, challenging his mind and his time. He liked only what he could put his hands on, like the files that littered every flat surface within his office.

“Yes,” he told her, scrutinizing her reaction, “I knew.”

Somehow, that seemed like the ultimate betrayal to her. Had no one in her life been honest with her? “For how long?”

“From the beginning. I was the one who put them in touch with the private agency.”

Cate reminded herself that she was first and foremost a special agent with the FBI. That meant she had to conduct herself professionally. She was supposed to be able to gather information under the worst situations, and heaven knew, this one qualified. “What was the name of it?”

Doc Ed shook his head. “Angels From Heaven,” he told her. “But it’s long gone.” He saw the protest rise to her lips, as if she thought he was lying. “From what I’d heard, the lawyer handling all the private adoptions was killed in a freak accident. Stepped off a curb and right in front of a bus. Died instantly.”

That sounded like the punchline of a bad joke. “When?”

Doc Ed thought for a moment, trying to pin down a year. He remembered reading the story in the paper and wondering what was going to happen to all the files of the babies who had changed hands. He’d even gone so far as to try to find out. But the address on the card the lawyer had given him turned out to belong to a dry cleaner’s now. All trace of the dead man’s small office was gone.

“Twelve, fifteen years ago. Without him, there was no agency.”

She watched the doctor’s eyes for signs of nervousness. Seeing none still didn’t convince her. He could just be a convincing liar. After all, he’d allowed her to believe a lie all these years. “You’re sure?”

Doc Ed spread his hands wide. “I have no reason to lie to you, Catherine.”

“You had no reason to keep my adoption from me, either,” she pointed out.

“Not my call, Catherine.” He leaned back in his chair, an old leather chair that had long since assumed his shape. It creaked slightly as he studied her. She was a strong-willed girl, she always had been. She would get through this, but not easily. “For what it’s worth, I thought your father was wrong, keeping this from you.” He laughed softly to himself. “Big Ted was absolutely fearless, but you were his Achilles heel.”

Her eyebrows drew together. That didn’t make any sense to her. Achilles heels signified a weakness. She’d never held Big Ted back. “I don’t understand.”

“If you had wanted to call someone else ‘Dad,’ it would have killed Big Ted. You were the sun and the moon and stars to him.”

How could her father have even thought that she’d turn her back on him and all their time together? Turn her back on the man who’d taught her how to ride a dirt bike, how to play baseball, how to fish. She’d been the best boy she could be for her father, and all the while the relationship she’d believed in didn’t even exist.

“But he didn’t trust me.”

The accusation surprised Doc Ed. “What?”

“He didn’t trust me,” she repeated. “My father didn’t trust me not to leave him, not to think of him differently once I knew that I didn’t have his genes in my body.” She leaned forward, trying to make Doc Ed understand what she was still trying to grapple with herself. “Don’t you see, if my father had told me I was adopted, it would have been no big deal. I knew a couple of kids in school who were adopted and they were okay.

“But he didn’t tell me. Neither of them did, and that made it a big deal. That they couldn’t tell me the truth. And the truth I knew was a lie.” Restless, she ran her hand through her hair. “Now I’m not really sure about anything anymore, least of all who I am.”

Doc Ed reached for her hand and forced her to look at him. “You’re still Catherine Kowalski,” he told her firmly. “You can call yourself Watermelon, it makes no difference. You’re still Cate.”

Despite herself, her mouth quirked in a half smile. “Watermelon, huh?”

“Watermelon,” he repeated.

Her smile faded and she shook her head. “It’s not the name that matters, Doc. It’s the truth that makes a difference. And the truth is that someone else gave birth to me, that there are genes inside of me that didn’t come from the people who, until a couple of hours ago, I’d thought of as Mom and Dad. The truth is, I thought there was no secret in my family and there is. And it’s a whopper.”

Doc Ed folded his hands on the desk and looked at her over his glasses. “So what are you going to do? All the records that might have given you a clue are long gone.”

Maybe not, she thought. Maybe someone had claimed them, stored them. Something. But she wasn’t going to deal with that now.

“For the time being, I’m going to stay where I’ll do the most good, right here with my mother.” She noted how he smiled when she still referred to Julia as her mother. “I’m putting in for a leave of absence so I can be with her for as long as I can. After she gets well, we’ll see.”

Unlike his colleagues, he believed in dispensing hope if there was even so much as a shred to be had. But even he couldn’t find it within his heart to allow her to deceive herself like this. “Cate, you know that she might not get well.”

Cate squared her shoulders, the look in her eyes forbidding him to say anything more. “Please,” she whispered the word quietly, “I’m dealing with one truth at a time.”

Two and a half weeks later, Cate found herself standing at her mother’s gravesite. It was raining, which seemed somehow fitting. She’d been angry at the sun for daring to shine the day of her father’s funeral so many years ago.

She was only vaguely aware that her partner, James Wong, was holding an umbrella over her head, keeping her dry. Vaguely aware of the world in general. She felt as if she was walking along on the outside of a huge circle, looking in.

She’d refused the Valium Doc Ed had offered her just before the ceremony. She didn’t want to be any more numb than she already was. Numb from the loss of a woman she’d loved with all her heart and had thought of as her mother to the very end, despite everything.

Numb from the realization that she’d been lied to for the past twenty-seven years of her life.

Numb because there were no foundations beneath her feet, no walls around her to protect her. She was bare and exposed. Completely and utterly adrift in dark waters. And for the first time in her life, she had no sense of identity. She had no idea who she was, or who she might have been meant to be.

She wouldn’t know anything until she found the answers to the questions that had been battering her brain for the past two and a half weeks.

Ever since that day in her mother’s hospital room.

Just before the end, her mother had begged her to forgive her and of course she had. She bore no malice toward the people who had done everything in their power to make her feel loved and secure. But it didn’t negate her desire to discover her birth parents and, with them, her roots.

Cate realized that the priest had stopped talking. The ceremony was almost over. Someone handed her a white rose. She went through the motions, kissing a petal and then throwing the flower onto the deep-mahogany casket that lay nestled in the freshly dug grave.

As she looked down, she felt her heart tightening within her chest.

Julia Kowalski had died three days ago. And now she and Big Ted were together again.

And she was alone. Completely alone. With no family to fall back on.

Neither one of her parents had had any siblings. Cate had always thought of herself as the only child of only children. Now she no longer knew what to think, what to feel.

Except for alone.

Everyone gathered at her parents’ house after the funeral. Betsy Keller, her mother’s best and oldest friend, had taken over and handled all the arrangements. Had insisted on it.

“You have enough to deal with, poor thing,” she’d clucked sympathetically several times during the past three days.

The mother of six and grandmother of nine, Betsy took to traffic control easily. Rather than call in a caterer, she’d summoned the collective resources of all of Julia’s friends. The women had brought over casseroles, pies, cakes and enough food to feed two armies.

“You’ve got to eat something,” Betsy insisted. She paused to deliver the same entreaty every time their paths crossed within the crammed house filled with people who had loved Julia and Ted.

And each time, Cate would respond the same way. “Maybe later.”

Betsy would peer at her through her red-rimmed glasses. “All right, but I’ll be watching you.”

Cate forced a smile to her lips. She tried to cheer herself up with the fact that her mother had been well loved by a great many people. Both her parents had been. And she was going to miss them terribly, but it was going to take her some time to get over the fact that they had deceived her. That they hadn’t had enough faith in her to know that she wasn’t about to pick up and go searching for her birth parents the moment she knew of their existence.

She wouldn’t have then. But, she had to now. Now that she had no roots. No family to call her own. Maybe it was a failing, she thought, but she needed to feel part of something. Something other than the bureau.

She made eye contact with James, who was there with his wife and oldest son. Her partner started to come over, but she shook her head and James faded back, giving her space.

As she stood, looking at people exchanging pleasantries, catching up on one another’s lives, she became aware that someone had come up to join her. She began to move away but felt something being slipped into her hand.

“What’s this?” Cate looked down at the brown manila envelope Doc Ed had just given her.

“Everything that I know about your adoption. It’s not much, but it might give you a start.” Slipping his arm around her slim shoulders, he said, “I know you people at the bureau have ways of finding things out as long as you have some kind of starting point.”

The envelope was light. It couldn’t contain much. “We don’t use government resources for personal ends.”

His gray eyes twinkled for the first time in three days. He gave her a fatherly squeeze. “Yeah, and I’m sure there are ways around that, too, Catherine. Now, eat something before I have you strapped down to a gurney and fed intravenously.”

She looked down at the manila envelope again. The smile that rose to her lips was only slightly forced, far less than what she’d been displaying all day as well-wishers pumped her hand, gave their condolences and told her stories about her parents.

“Yes, sir.”

He took hold of her arm and steered her toward one of the two tables laden down with food. “If you think I’m going to be taken in by that, then you don’t really know me, either.”

She appreciated the irony he’d tossed her way.