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“The building is secure. No other intruders were found. The second man entered the water, but the search team hasn’t located him.”

“He could still be on the property,” Ben says.

“Thermal cameras are searching the shoreline. Additional personnel are arriving.”

“What about my sisters?” I ask.

“They remain at the beach house. We won’t move them until the route and secured housing have been checked again.”

Willow’s frustration comes through the phone.

“We’ve been packed for hours.”

“You’re also safe,” Keating replies. “That is all I care about tonight.”

The door opens, and a federal agent wearing a dark jacket enters.

She’s in her early forties, with black hair pulled into a low ponytail and an expression that says she has no patience for nonsense.

“Commander Keating?”

“Yes.”

“Special Agent Elena Marquez. I took custody of the evidence recovered from Willow Sinclair’s restaurant.”

Her gaze moves around the damaged room.

“I see you’ve had a busy evening.”

“We have Donald Cross in custody.”

For the first time, her expression changes.

“You’re sure it’s Cross?”

“Thomas Whitaker identified him.”

Marquez looks at Thomas. “Donald Cross died in 2006.”

“Apparently no one told him,” Thomas replies.

“I want his fingerprints run immediately.”

“They’re being processed.”

Marquez places a locked evidence case on the table.

“Willow’s pocket watch is inside. We X-rayed it before transport.”

“And?” Willow asks.

Marquez notices the phone.

“The watch contains a curved piece of glass beneath the rear plate.”

Willow exhales.

“It’s still there.”