“Marcus,” he answered quietly. “What’s happened?”
“The FBI contacted me this morning,” Marcus said without preamble. “Dave’s visit to Sapphire Bay raised some red flags.”
Frank pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you, he was just fishing for information.”
“Maybe, but they’re taking it seriously. Sterling’s legal team filed a motion yesterday to suppress all evidence from whistleblower sources, citing ‘improper handling of confidential materials.’”
“That’s ridiculous,” Frank muttered. “Everything I provided was obtained legally.”
“The FBI agrees, but they’re concerned about potential intimidation tactics. Agent Ramirez asked specifically where you are right now.”
Frank felt a chill that had nothing to do with the morning breeze. “What did you tell him?”
“That you’re safe but understandably cautious. He wants you to stay where you are—his exact words. If you’re worried about your safety, he’ll send a special agent to look after you until the trial.”
Frank glanced back at Tommy. He was trying to untangle a knot in his fishing line. The thought of federal agents appearingin Sapphire Bay, of bringing any hint of danger closer to his grandson, made his stomach turn.
“I told him we’re fine last week,” Frank said firmly. “Tommy doesn’t need a reminder of what we left behind.”
Marcus sighed. “Frank, if Sterling’s getting desperate enough to send Dave after you?—”
“Dave’s gone,” Frank interrupted. “And he didn’t find what he was looking for.”
“Just be careful, okay?” Marcus warned. “Keep the emergency number I gave you on speed dial. And maybe consider letting Ramirez send someone, just as a precaution. They could be discreet.”
Frank watched a boat glide across the lake, its wake spreading gentle ripples toward the shore. “I’ll think about it,” he conceded, though they both knew he wouldn’t.
Frank ended the call a few minutes later after discussing the upcoming court dates and the latest filings from Sterling’s attorneys.
“Grandpa! I think I’ve got something!” Tommy’s excited shout pulled Frank back to the present.
He hurried over, watching as Tommy’s rod bent with the weight of what was clearly a substantial fish. They were completely absorbed for the next few minutes, and all thoughts of Sterling Industries was temporarily forgotten.
“It’s a big one!” Tommy exclaimed as Frank helped him net a respectable-sized brown trout.
“That’s definitely dinner,” Frank agreed, feeling a surge of pride at Tommy’s beaming face.
As they packed up their gear, Frank made a sudden decision. “Hey buddy, what do you think about taking a detour before heading home? We could stop by Henderson’s Books.”
Tommy’s eyes lit up. “To see Isabel? Is she working today?”
“Today’s the settlement date,” Frank explained, securing the tackle box. “It’s officially her bookstore now.”
“That’s so cool!” Tommy carefully placed their catch in the cooler. “Can we bring her something to celebrate?”
Frank smiled at his grandson’s thoughtfulness. “That’s a great idea. How about we stop at the diner and pick up lunch for everyone?”
As they loaded their fishing gear into the truck, Frank relaxed. A few minutes at the bookstore was exactly what they both needed—a reminder of the good things in Sapphire Bay, the connections they’d made, and the life they were building here.
And seeing Isabel’s face when she realized she was officially a bookstore owner would be a welcome distraction.
The drive into town was filled with Tommy’s chatter about what books he hoped to find and which treats from the diner Isabel might like best. It was so normal that Frank relaxed, pushing all thoughts of Marcus and the FBI to the back of his mind.
They parked outside Bernie’s Diner, and Frank placed an order for a selection of sandwiches, salads, and Bernie’s famous apple turnovers. While they waited, Tommy spotted a small “Congratulations” balloon at the gift shop next door and insisted they buy it.
“She needs something special for her first day,” Tommy explained with the unwavering certainty of an eight-year-old.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of the bookstore. The “Closed” sign still hung on the door, but through the window, he could see Isabel and Mrs. Henderson at the front counter, their heads bent together in conversation.
