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“She disappeared. Forever. Her family had no idea what happened to her, whether she lived…or not.”

What was I supposed to say? Horrified, I stared at Kira, wondering what had prompted her to reveal such personal and tragic information about her family. I’d told them about my father, but only because it mattered operationally.

Kira seemed to sense my confusion. “I told you this, Angel, because my father has never forgiven himself for what happened to her. He blames himself. Even after he met my mother, married her, and had me and my brother, Anatoly, he’sneverforgiven himself. It’s haunted him all his life. I’ve seen the pain in his eyes, and the guilt that still eats at him because he put her in that situation and couldn’t save her.”

She looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly on the table. “Now I’m the spy, following in my father’s footsteps. I’ve been given a chance to help save someone else. It won’t change what happened to my father or his fiancée, but it does set a precedent for me and how I intend to operate as an agent. I won’t walk away from this and let something happen to your mom when I might be able to help save her. My dad might not have been able to save his fiancée, but I’m going to do everything in my power to help get your mom back and punish those who kidnapped her. That’s my promise to you, Angel, danger or not.”

I swallowed hard. Surprising even myself, I reached out and touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Thanks, Kira. That means a lot to me.”

Hala leaned forward in her chair and placed her elbows on the table. “Angel, my dad is the director of the FBI in Boston. I know you don’t want to tell anyone, but I promise, you can trust him to help you. He’s trained to handle situations like these.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Hala. I can’t. I need to follow my dad’s instructions exactly. I can’t risk my mom’s life at this point.” I knew I’d put her in an impossible situation where she had to choose between her father and me. I hated to do that to her, but there was no choice. “But if you want to withdraw from this situation, I won’t try to stop you. I can only ask that you keep all this in confidence. I know my methods may seem unorthodox, but I truly believe it’s what we need to do to save her.”

Hala exchanged a knowing glance with Kira. “I told you,” Kira said, lifting her hands. “She’s trusting her father on this. She has to. Do you blame her?”

Hala sighed and shook her head. “No, I don’t, because it’s what I would do if I were in her position.” She rubbed her forehead with one hand. “Angel, I said I’m in, and I’m in. I love my father and he’s my hero, but this is your operation and your mom. I respect that. I’m staying, and I’ll honor your request not to say anything to him.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. “Thank you, Hala. I’m grateful for your support.” I didn’t know what else to say. How did I properly express gratitude to someone who’d offered to put their future, and possibly their life, into my hands? There weren’t enough words for that.

“It’s all about fathers tonight, isn’t it?” Kira held up her Styrofoam cup. “Let’s toast to them and hope we exceed their expectations of us in all the ways that matter.”

Even though I didn’t really know my father, I couldn’t think of a reason why I shouldn’t toast to that sentiment, so I lifted my cup of milk. Hala raised hers, and we tapped them together.

“To fathers,” we said in unison.

As we finished off the last of the milk in our cups, I found it interesting how deeply our fathers had influenced us, and how their experiences had shaped us by extension.

The only difference was that Kira’s and Hala’s experiences had come from actually knowing their fathers.

Mine had come from trying to discover if he was even alive.

CANDACE KIM

Candace pressed the Send button on her email and leaned back in the chair in her home office, looking out at her meticulously manicured backyard. There were no longer leaves on the trees to shield her from her neighbor’s view. The early-morning sun glinted off the windows of the Andersons’ house positioned behind her.

She wondered what a typical Saturday morning looked like at their house. They had two teenage daughters who liked to kick a soccer ball around in the backyard, but it was too early this morning to expect teenagers to be out and about. She imagined them around the breakfast table, laughing and eating pancakes without the slightest idea that their neighbor was embroiled in a dangerous investigation of a government organization that was supposed to be protecting them.

Sighing, she rose from her chair, tightening the belt of the silk robe she wore. By sending the email to Ethan Sinclair, she’d officially entered the chess game. Now, it was up to him to decide whether she could play or not.

She had no idea how long it would take before he replied, so she wandered down to the kitchen, where she fixed herself avocado toast and a glass of apricot juice. Carrying the plate, juice, and a fresh mug of coffee, she returned to her office. No email had come in while she was gone, but she did have a text message on her cell, which she’d left beside her laptop.

“Well, that was fast, Ethan,” she murmured, setting the plate and mug down and picking up her phone. The text was short.

I agree with your conclusion.

She read the response twice and then typed out her reply.

That highly placed members at the NSA may be involved in J.P.’s death and remain a threat to you and your family?

Yes.

As much as she wanted to help him, she had to proceed with clarity, honesty, and transparency. That meant she had to keep it real.

It doesn’t matter what I conclude. I can’t move forward without proof, especially given the prominence of the potential individuals involved. If you have evidence, if you have names, you have to pass them on to me.

The moment of truth. He didn’t respond immediately, so Candace took a sip of coffee and nibbled on one corner of the toast before he answered.

I’m not sure I trust you.