She was within sight of the building when she took the first sip of her matcha and shuddered. Had the new barista used skim milk instead of almond milk? It was truly terrible. She set it in the drink holder.
A text dinged on her phone, and she fumbled in her purse. It dinged a second time before she managed to close her fingers around the phone. The message was from her mother.
Bestemor has had a heart attack and is critical. Come home now.
Katrina's breath squeezed from her chest. Her grandmother meant everything to her. Her health had been rocky for months. Her beloved bestemor was her rock, her mentor, and so much more. Hands shaking, she punched in, On my way.
A second message came through, this one from her best friend and Talk's chief technology officer, Liv Tompkins. I can't find David and the bank isn't returning my calls. I need you here now. The elusive CEO who was Liv's boyfriend had vanished three days ago.
The messages reflected Katrina's past year in a nutshell. Both the grandmother she adored and the company she'd poured everything into had begun an inexorable slide down-hill. She'd tried without success to be in two places at once, but she'd been utterly helpless to change either situation. Just a year ago she was a rising star in Talk, Inc., the AI chatbot start-up everyone was talking about. She was married to the best man in the world, and they'd been living the life of their dreams for three wonderful years. Her life had slowly spiraled out of control starting with Jason's death in a car accident just over a year ago, and most days, she felt like she was drowning.
She parked and opened the Talk app. Jason's smiling face appeared with the text Hi, honey, how's it going?
Her hands trembled as she texted him. Terrible. Bestemor's dying and so is Talk. I can't fix it, Jason. What do I do?
She knew a chatbot imitating her husband couldn't advise her, but somehow it always helped. Relying on it wasn't healthy, but it was all she had right now. Every day she blessed Liv for talking Katrina into letting her upload all Jason's social media messages and texts so they could try out the bot. She told herself it was only because the bot needed testing before it hit the market, but little by little she depended on it more and more. The AI app filled one chink in the mortar holding her sanity together.
His reply came. Trust yourself, Katrina. You're stronger and smarter than you know. Take it one step at a time and do that one thing in front of you. I know you can do it. You're my superhero.
The weird thing was the words streaming from the bot always sounded like Jason. In her mind she could see his warm brown eyes and his tender smile. She could almost catch the scent of his patchouli soap and Tom Ford cologne. When she ended a session with the bot, she felt as if she'd been in his presence, as if his arms had surrounded her. It was a little spooky sometimes, but such a comfort.
Thanks, she typed back. That's good advice.
She'd try to put out whatever fire Liv was battling, then head to North Haven. Her decision made, she hurried toward the building looming ahead in the bright blue California sky. As she neared, she spotted Talk's employees milling around the doors. Some were on their phones, some were crying, and others were taking pictures. Had there been a shooting? A fire? Possibilities swarmed her thoughts.
Katrina spotted her law intern, Clare. "What's going on?" Clare turned a tearstained face toward her. "The FBI has taken over Talk! The media is here." She grabbed Katrina's arm.
The FBI? Katrina wanted to run herself. This was the beginning of the end. Something catastrophic had to have triggered the FBI to step in. Was that why the CEO was nowhere to be found? Liv must be going out of her mind. They'd be lucky if they had an engineer left by evening. It was the end of any venture capital money, and Talk, Inc. was doomed.
She turned at the sound of Liv's voice and saw her struggling to hold on to a laptop as an FBI agent tried to tug it away from her. Katrina rushed to help. "What's going on here? I'd like to see your warrant. I'm general counsel for Talk."
He eyed her. "You're Katrina Foster? We've been looking for you."
"I am. What's this all about?" He handed her the warrant. As she read it, her dreams went up in smoke as acrid as a trash fire. The FBI had authority to seize anything related to the finances of either Talk or its CEO, David Liang. The warrant also mentioned Talk's chief financial officer, David's cousin John—who Katrina realized was also nowhere to be seen.
