She looked at the laptop in Liv's hands. It was David's. "I'm sorry, Liv. They have a warrant for that. You're technically obstructing justice by not giving it to them."
Liv reluctantly released her grip on the machine. The agent nodded his thanks and walked away with it. Katrina tugged Liv away from the melee. It was her job to make sure the FBI didn't overstep the four corners of the warrant, but Liv needed some comfort and Katrina needed information. "There's nothing we can do, Liv. You still can't reach David?"
Liv shook her head, and fresh tears slid down her cheeks. Her windblown dark hair and helpless manner were out of character for her. As chief technology officer she was usually a whirlwind of activity and determination. She towered over Katrina's five-foot-five height by five inches, but she seemed lost in the face of this unexpected blow.
Katrina slipped her arms around Liv and held her in a tight hug. "We shouldn't be so surprised. Things haven't been good, Liv, but we'll land on our feet." Liv mumbled something incoherent. "What was that?"
Liv pulled away. "I'm pregnant, Katrina. It's David's baby." Her expression crumpled again. "He left me here to face all of this alone."
A baby. The thought of a new life when everything seemed so dark brought tears to Katrina's eyes. "Aw, Liv. I'm so sorry!" She hugged her tighter. "But you're not alone—you have me." Their casual friendship had begun when Katrina first started at Talk five years ago, but it had deepened when Jason died. Liv had walked beside her through that dark valley, and Katrina would be forever grateful. "We'll get through this together.
Maybe he'll answer your calls."
Liv shook her head. "I—I installed a tracking app on his phone the other night. Yesterday he was at the airport, and then he disappeared off the app. I think he took a plane home to Shanghai."
"And left us all to handle the fallout. That snake." Katrina spotted an FBI agent motioning to her. "We'll talk more later. I have to oversee the search, and I need to get home to North Haven."
"Is it Bestemor?"
"She's had another heart attack and is critical. I hope I make it in time." Katrina walked over to the FBI agents. She couldn't let herself see Liv's sympathy or she'd never get through the hard hours ahead.
Four hours later, she escorted the FBI out of the building and headed for her Tesla. She took a swig of her terrible—and
now cold—coffee. Another message came through from her mother.
Bestemor is gone, Katrina. I'm so sorry you didn't make it in time.
"No!" Katrina pounded the steering wheel with her hands. "I can't lose Bestemor too." She crossed her arms over her stomach and sobbed.
* * *
Seb Wallace surveyed The Beacon and checked his watch. He needed to hit the road, but he couldn't leave quite yet. A restaurant during dinner rush was like the ocean: you could never turn your back on it. Especially if you owned the place.
By eight thirty there was no longer a line at reception. Muted conversation echoed from The Beacon's vaulted ceiling, which Seb kept when he converted the old lighthouse into a world-class restaurant. He'd preserved the redwood flooring laid a century and a half ago and the Victorian lightkeeper's house. He'd also restored the beacon, which guided the way to North Haven's snug harbor on dark and foggy nights. Oceangoing yachts lined the piers closest to The Beacon, which was a popular dinner spot with the seafaring set. Seb had wanted to create a unique ambience to go with his unique menu—and he'd succeeded, at least according to the reviews. Michelin gave The Beacon a rare three-star rating, praising the "authentic gold rush-era ambience" and the "eclectic menu drawn
from at least a dozen countries scattered over four continents."
Seb slipped through the swinging double doors into the kitchen, a room of white tile, stainless steel, and constant activity. He wove his way among the hurrying staff, checking for potential problems as he went. He saw none. He made his way to the chef de cuisine, Thor Thorsen, an enormous Norwegian who absolutely fit his name. He stood at a strategic spot near the office, monitoring the room with glacial-blue eyes.
Seb looked up at Thor, who stood at least five inches taller than Seb's five feet eleven inches. "Alt bra?"
Thor nodded and gave a thumbs-up without taking his gaze off the busy room.