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He yanked open the door to his closet. Something lurched at him from inside in a blur of yellow eyes and rows of wicked teeth. Ellie’s throat closed with panic as she recognized the form of a bizarrely upright crocodile.

Bates’s hand flashed out and caught the beast by its chest. He pushed it back into the closet automatically, still rifling through the hangers.

With a blink of surprise, Ellie amended her impression. The crocodile was stuffed.

Bates emerged with a sturdy, weathered leather belt. He wrapped it around his waist with an easy, practiced motion as he kicked the dead reptile back into place and shut the closet door.

Ellie recognized the handle of his enormous knife protruding from a sheath attached to the belt. The sight of it made her stomach drop a bit further.

What was she getting herself into?

“Probably best if we avoid going back to your room,” Bates pointed out. “And we’ll need to travel light. Is there anything you absolutely can’t do without?”

The question startled her. Ellie’s heart pattered uncomfortably at the suddenrealnessof what was happening.

She flashed her gaze to the equipment hanging from the nails driven into the walls: levels, stakes, theodolites, and spools of masonry string. She had meant to acquire a pick, screen, brush, and shovel in case she decided to dig a small test pit on the site, but as she faced the reality of carrying those items across an unknown span of rainforest, she realized how foolish that had been.

Ellie forced herself to take a breath. This was a preliminary expedition. There was only one thing she needed in order for it to be a success.

“Do you have a blank notebook?” she asked.

Bates’s hand moved unerringly to a thin, leatherbound volume that lay among the piles of papers on his desk. He flipped through it quickly and shrugged.

“Mostly blank,” he offered as he held it out to her. “Will that do?”

“Yes,” Ellie said, looking down at the unassuming book.

She was overwhelmed by the sense of what those ordinary pages meant.

They were potential. They were hope.

Bates held out the rucksack.

“Add it to the kit,” he said.

Ellie let the notebook slide from her hands into the bag—then quickly darted out to grab a pencil from the desk and throw it in as well.

“Have you a sharpener?” she asked.

He answered her with a grin.

“Sure. It’s right here.”

He tapped the place where the enormous knife hung at his belt.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he paused to eye her figure, eyes roving carefully from her tousled hair to her somewhat dirt-smudged cotton shirtwaist, and finally her feet.

“Those leather boots?” he asked.

“What?” Ellie returned as she lifted the footwear in question. “Er—yes?”

“No heels,” Bates commented approvingly. “New laces. How long have you had ‘em?”

“About a year?” Ellie returned, confused by the question.

“Do much walking?”

“I do a very great deal of it,” she replied as she crossed her arms over her chest and fought a rising note of irritation. “May I ask why it matters?”