My fingers were trembling against the cold plastic casing.

“Yes,” I said. “Just tired.”

He sat down across from me at the heavy oak conference table.

The room smelled of stale coffee and damp paper from the file boxes.

“We’re making progress on the warrants for Victoria’s bank records,” Harris said.

He laid the blue folder flat on the table.

“But we still need a direct link to the physical ledger.”

I leaned back, resting my hands on my swollen stomach.

The baby kicked, a sharp, sudden movement that made me catch my breath.

“I just spoke to Julian,” I said.

Harris stopped shuffling his papers.

His eyes locked onto mine, his hand freezing over the folder.

“The husband,” Harris said. “The imposter. Where is he?”

“He’s running,” I said. “He thinks Chloe is going to kill him at the harbor.”

I watched Harris’s hand move slowly toward his notepad.

“He wants a deal,” I continued.

“Immunity and access to the eighty-million-dollar trust before Victoria locks it.”

Harris let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“He’s a federal fugitive, Natalie. He doesn’t get to dictate terms.”