The Blue Zone. Andrew Gross

      The following afternoon two people from the U.S. Marshals Service showed up at the house.

      One was a tall, heavyset man with salt-and-pepper hair, named Phil Cavetti. The other, a pleasant, attractive woman of about forty named Margaret Seymour, whom they all immediately liked, said she’d be their case handler. She told them to call her “Maggie.”

      They were from WITSEC. The Witness Protection Program.

      At first Kate assumed they were merely there to explain the program to everybody. What lay ahead. But after talking to them for a few minutes, it became clear what was actually going on.

      They were here to take her family into custody today.

      They told everyone to pack a single suitcase. The rest, they said, including the furniture and personal belongings, would come along in a few weeks. Come along where?

      Justin stuffed his iPod and his Sony PlayStation into a knapsack. Em mechanically collected her squash racquets and goggles, a poster of Third Eye Blind, and some snapshots of her closest friends.

      Sharon was a wreck. She couldn’t believe the parts of her life she couldn’t take, that she was having to leave behind. Her mother. Her family albums. Her wedding china. All her precious things.

      Their lives.

      Kate tried her best to help. “Take these,” Sharon said, pressing folders filled with old photos into Kate’s hands. “They’re of my mother and father, and their families.…” Sharon picked up a small vase that contained the ashes of their old schnauzer, Fritz. She looked at Kate, her composure starting to fracture. How can I just leave these behind?

      When their bags were packed, everyone came down to the living room. Ben was in a blazer and an open plaid shirt, not saying much to anyone. Sharon was dressed in jeans and a blazer, her hair pulled back. Like she was headed on a trip or something. They all sat down silently.

      Phil Cavetti started to lay out what would take place.

      “Your husband will be delivered to the U.S. Attorney later today,” he said to Sharon. “He’ll begin serving a prison sentence in a secure location until the trial. That could be eight, ten months. Under his agreement, he will have to be a witness at additional trials as they come up.

      “The rest of you will be in protective custody until a final location is determined. Under no circumstance can you divulge to anyone where that location is.” He looked at Em and Justin. “That means not even an e-mail to your best friend. Or a text message. This is only for your own protection—do you understand?”

      They nodded tentatively. “Not even to Kate?” Em looked over at her sister.

      “Not even to Kate, I’m afraid.” Phil Cavetti shook his head. “Once you’re settled, we can arrange a few calls and you’ll be able to e-mail through a WITSEC clearing site. A couple of times a year, we can arrange visits with family at a neutral location under our supervision.”

      “A couple of times a year,” Sharon gasped, taking hold of Kate’s hand.

      “That’s it. You’ll be given new identities. New drivers’ licenses, Social Security numbers. As far as anyone will be concerned, all this did not exist. You understand that this is only for your own protection? Your father is doing something that will make him very unpopular with the people he’s testifying against. And you’ve already seen firsthand what these people will do. Agent Seymour and I have handled several similar cases. Even people within the Mercado family itself. If you follow the rules, you’ll be okay. We’ve never had a case that was detected yet.”