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“Orientation center? This isn’t like you’re sending me off to college!”

“No, but there are a lot of things to be done. Routine exams by medical, dental, and psychiatric professionals, choosing a location for your new life, choosing a new last name, and getting your paperwork and identification documents. You’ll remain inthe building at all times. Other families will also be there, but no one will see you or speak to you except your designated team.”

If I’m being helpful, how come I’m going to something that sounds eerily like prison? “How many days does that take?”

“Oh, not long. Six weeks, tops. Sometimes as few as four.”

“Six weeks!?” I screech.

Reggie is back at my side in a flash. “What’s wrong, honey?”

If I wasn’t so pissed, I’d love the affectionate, protective tone in his voice as he kneels next to me. “Wait, if Delgado is put in this program, would he be there at the same time?”

A split-second pause. “Of course not.”

Reggie taps my shoulder. “He’s lying,” he mouths.

My stomach drops. I recall what Reggie said about how he knows when to trust people. His gut has seen him through some pretty tense situations, so if he trusts it, I decide I will too. “Did you lie to me?” I grip the phone hard, muscles rigid as I try to keep my shit together.

“No.”

Reggie shakes his head and holds up two fingers. Powell lied. Twice.

“Isn’t it conceivable,” I push, “that if I have to be there for six weeks, the end of my time might coincide with the beginning of his?”

The pause is longer. “Like I said, you’ll see no one but your team, so the other tenants are of no consequence.”

“Truth.” Reggie nods, eyes dark and dangerous.

Suddenly, this charade is too much. Six weeks in isolation (well, something like it) seems like too much. What will life without my family and friends be like? And if Matteo is walking around free—what’s to stop him from turning on me and then giving up more people to get away with my murder?

“Mrs. Gray?”

“I’m... I’m having some second thoughts about this.”

“I understand. It’s very frightening and overwhelming,” Powell’s voice is soft and soothing.

My head turns to Reggie. His face is neutral. I guess there’s no lie to be detected there. “If you let a murderer go, what’s to stop him from murdering me? Because he’ll know I’m the witness after this ‘discovery.’ And if he gives you lots of information, there’s no guarantee that he won’t have some in reserve and some connections who are loyal to him. Loyal connections who might want to hurt me.” My fingers feel cold, and my head feels light. I stand up. I have to walk or I’ll faint. That doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t have to make sense.

“Well, we’ll keep you safe. We’ll check in on you frequently, and then after you’re settled, you can check in when you want, as long as you contact us at least once a year. We’ll be keeping tabs on Delgado, too. He won’t be near you.”

“But his old buddies might be.”

“Activities with ‘old buddies’ would get him removed from the program.”

But there are buddies you can’t see! Monsters right under your noses that you don’t even notice!I want to scream.

Reggie takes my cold hand in his, head shaking, free hand weaving back and forth.

A partial truth. Which part? I can’t really ask right now. “What about my family? They think I’m still hopping around Europe and New York City as the gay divorceé.”

“You can write to them, and they can write to you. You can call them on special lines that we’ve established. You won’t be allowed to keep each other’s letters. The U.S. Marshal Service will take them and dispose of them.”

Reggie nods firmly.

“What you might want to consider, Mrs. Gray—Therese, is what could happen if you decide to go this alone. There’s no guarantee of safety or monitoring unless you’re in the WITSECprogram. Your fears about Delgado might prevent you from testifying—but the evidence on your flash drive is enough to ensure that Delgado is connected to the terrorist organization. What he does next may allow him to make a deal, regardless of whether you’re in the program or not. Now, doesn’t it seem safer to be protected?”

I don’t feel very safe with my government handlers right now. “I guess. Uh. Dinner is burning.”