Page 75 of Hidden Tide

“You won’t be opening tomorrow.”

“I own the restaurant.”

“And someone broke into your office.”

“I can’t disappear without telling anyone.”

“You can call your manager after you’re secure. You’ll say there’s a family emergency. You won’t disclose your location.”

Willow releases a frustrated breath.

I understand why she’s angry. Her restaurant is more than a business. She built it from the ground up, creating menus, training her kitchen staff and working until the place became one of the hardest reservations to get in San Francisco.

Whoever entered her office violated the life she created for herself.

“What did the evidence team find?” I ask.

Keating checks his messages. “They’re searching the restaurant now.”

“My watch was in the locked drawer beneath the old menus,” Willow says. “Inside a wooden box.”

“Did anyone know you kept it there?” Ben asks.

“My sisters. A few employees may have seen it.”

“What about the rest of you?” Keating asks. “Who knew about Calle’s compass, Storm’s sextant, Ivy’s telescope and Hazel’s music box?”

“I photographed the telescope once,” Ivy says.

“When?” I ask.

“About two years ago. I was experimenting with reflections for a gallery show. I put the photograph on my website.”

“Is it still there?” Keating asks.

“I don’t know. The photograph wasn’t included in the show, but it may still be in my online archive.”

Nathan searches Ivy’s name on his phone.

It takes less than a minute for him to find it.

He places the phone on the table.

The photograph fills the screen.

Ivy turned Grandpa’s telescope into art. It stands near the window of her San Francisco studio with the city blurred behind it. Light passes through its brass barrel and casts a narrow blue streak across a white wall.

My breath catches.

“Blue light,” I say.

“The piece of the Fresnel lens was still inside it,” Ivy whispers.

Below the image is a title.

THE EYE REMEMBERS.

Keating looks at Thomas. “Did James use that phrase?”