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Cole rose early and checked the perimeter of the large house that had the outward appearance of a rustic cabin but inside was well equipped with all the necessary modern equipment.

Hawk and Remi had spoken with Evelyn Monroe, who’d been able to secure the place from one of her many connections in the region.

The house rested on the opposite end of Hidden Bay from Cedar Trails Lodge and sat on a ledge overlooking the ocean, so he only had to worry about three sides.

The place was isolated, and the long drive could only be entered via a coded gate a quarter of a mile through the woods.

Security cameras were strategically located.

He hadn’t been told any details about the owner who’d lent the house for use as a safe house.

As for their videoconference with the cold case unit detective in Michigan, he’d had to reschedule with Detective Wilson for ten o’clock this morning.

In the end, to solve the mystery behind her mother’s death, Cole and Jo might have to travel to Michigan.

He couldn’t leave her here alone while he was in protection mode, and definitely not until the danger her father had brought ended.

Cole was juggling two investigations and a protective detail. All good. He loved a challenge.

But this was all so much more than a job. This was personal to him.

I won’t fail you , Jo.

He was alive because of her.

Cole stepped onto the west-facing deck that jutted out over the water, fully exposing him to the wind and rain.

He took in the view of the waves crashing on the jagged rocks below.

To the left, looking south, the crescent-shaped Hidden Bay stretched before him, sheltering the calmer waters within the inlet.

At the far end of the bay, he spotted the cliff’s edge where the Cedar Trails Lodge stood, but he couldn’t see the lodge itself or the steps down to the beach.

But it was the view to the right that drew his attention.

Here, at the very edge of the north side of the bay, the force of the raw, untamed power of the ocean was on full display as towering waves crashed into the rocks and white spray shot high into the air.

A glance at his watch told him it was time to make sure Jo was up so she would have time to wake up and get her required coffee.

They’d arrived at the home well after midnight.

Remi and Hawk had gone out of their way to prepare the place, stocking it with food and making sure Jo had a few clothes to replace those she’d lost in the explosion—at least for now—a mix of items Jo kept at the lodge and things left behind by guests.

After learning that Jo’s sketches had been lost in the explosion, Remi had even thought to bring the set of sketch pads and art pencils Jo kept at Cedar Trails.

While he appreciated her thoughtfulness, Cole almost wished Remi hadn’t because Jo refused to go to bed until she’d redrawn some of what she’d lost. Maybe the art was therapeutic for her.

The eyes from the ferry.

Faces from her time in Michigan.

The decommissioned bridge in the woods.

He opened the sliding glass door and headed to the kitchen to grab the poppy seed bagels from the cabinet and the strawberry cream cheese from the fridge and set them out.

An alarm sounded from down the hall. A few minutes passed, and then Jo emerged from the hallway.

Wearing a T-shirt and sweats, she stretched and yawned.

“Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake.” Ack. Could he sound cornier?

But he wasn’t sure she’d even heard him as she shuffled toward the coffee with a sleep-dazed expression.

Last night had been grueling for them both, but especially for Jo.

If it weren’t for the teleconference call with the detective, Cole would have insisted she slept in.

He poured her a mug before she got to it because, despite Jo being a mechanical genius artist, she was the clumsiest person he’d ever met.

Wrapping both hands around the tall sixteen-ounce mug, she guzzled with her eyes closed, not even flinching from the heat. Her long brown hair fell in tangles around her shoulders. He tried to ignore the way his heart was swinging back and forth.

Finally, she opened her golden-brown eyes and blinked up at him. “Thank you.”

“You went to bed late. Are you sure you’re up for the videoconference call with the detective at ten? Do you need me to reschedule?”

“No. I’ll be ready.” Her eyes brightened as she moved to the counter. “What have we here?” She grabbed a bagel and started spreading the cream cheese all over. “How do you do it, Cole?”

“Do what?”

“You stayed up late too, watching me sketch. How are you up and making coffee and breakfast, I’m guessing, hours before me?” She bit into the bagel and chewed.

Instead of answering, he just watched her. She didn’t seem to mind. Cole averted his gaze.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re a highly skilled military man.” Jo moved to the sofa with her plate and coffee. He moved in behind her and caught the bagel before it slid off.

“Oops. Sorry.” She gave him a bashful look. “I mean, thanks for catching that.”

Cole was beginning to rethink this entire setup.

This place was upscale, and Jo sat on a plush white sofa with a cup of coffee.

He hoped they would leave this place in as good a condition as they found it.

He was too busy making sure Jo didn’t spill her coffee to bother drinking his own as he sank into the much-too-comfortable sofa.

“The sketches are incredible, by the way. They look the same,” he said.

“They’re not,” she said around a mouthful of bagel.

“On purpose?” Dumb question.

“No, by accident.” She grinned at him. “I’d been wanting to re-sketch them anyway, to change the shadows and the angles.”

“Why? The difference isn’t enough to, well ... make a difference.”

“Oh, it is. Trust me.”

“I don’t get it,” he said.

“You will.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I hope you will. I plan to show the sketch of the face to the Michigan detective. He could recognize him with the changes. Put the face in the database. Something. I know you already sent the image to Allison, but you could send my rework to her. Have you heard from her?”

“Just a quick text update that she had nothing on the face yet ... or your father.”

Cole wished he understood more about the forensic art process or about Jo’s specific artist process. “So, the bridge. Why’d you re-sketch that?”

“I’m not finished with it,” she said.

“What more could you add?”

She stared out the window, drinking her coffee. “More detail.”

He scratched a place under his eye. She’d been so exhausted, and still she needed to sketch? “What about the bridge needs more detail?”

She set her mug on the glass coffee table. “I was thinking about what Allison said about Advanced Technologies wanting engineers. She suggested maybe Pop was applying for a job or went there for an interview.”

“And that has to do with the bridge how?” he asked. She’d taken Cole out to the decommissioned bridge once, not too far from her home and about a mile up from where the river emptied into the ocean.

“Pop and I went on long walks in the woods. He couldn’t get enough of nature, but he always gravitated to that bridge.

We’d sit on a boulder overlooking the river, but we never walked out onto the bridge.

He told me all about how bridges are built and why this one was decommissioned.

He talked about some formula. Strength is greater than or equal to the load times the factor of safety. ”

Jo held his gaze.

She was onto something.

“When Pop explained it, the whole thing sounded reasonable and made sense. I’m going to butcher it, but basically, the point is to design a bridge—or anything, really—to be only as strong as it needs to be to satisfy whatever the factor of safety is.”

“So it’s cost-effective and efficient,” he said.

“He said to picture a big log, the heaviest, thickest tree trunk that someone puts across a ridge like the one this bridge crosses. An engineer can figure out the very best tree trunk, the smallest one, to get the job done safely. I mean, he kind of talked above my head. That was him simplifying it for me.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Cole, who designs bridges?”

Cole waited for her answer.

“Engineers. As I think back on that, I can see it so clearly now. What if he was an engineer? Those skills could lend themselves to his mechanic work at the R&D too. He was just a natural. Is a natural.”

“Okay, I didn’t see that coming. That’s a great observation. I’ll text Allison and give her this new information. It could help the search for his true identity. Maybe he was a civil engineer before.”

“I’d like to know if he knew my mother when he was an engineer or if they met when he had switched to being a mechanic.”

“All good questions.” He sent Allison the information about Dodge and his knowledge of bridges. “What was the formula again? Strength—”

“Is greater than or equal to the load times the factor of safety. That’s all I got. It’s a basic engineering equation. Don’t ask me more because I don’t know. I’m an artist.”

“Don’t kid yourself, you’re a natural mechanic.”

“So I can fix a few things. I’d better get ready for our call.” She stood, grabbed her mug and plate, and took them to the kitchen.

“I’ll clean it up. Just stick it on the counter.”

“Okay, thanks.” Jo left to dress for the videoconference.

Cole rinsed the dish and mug and placed them in the rack, then set up his laptop in the office.

The house had full cell service and internet, thanks to a satellite, as opposed to the Cedar Trails Lodge, which had none of that and boasted getting back to nature for hard-core nature enthusiasts who still wanted to stay in a cabin rather than sleep out under the stars.

He was glad they were here and not there.

Before he got into the videoconference, he grabbed his notebook and skimmed through his notes and potential questions. An email had just come through from Allison regarding Jo’s father.

Jo knocked on the doorjamb. “Can I come in?”

“Yep.” He waved her in. “You’re a key part of this discussion.”

She entered and sat in the chair he offered. With Jo here now, Cole didn’t want to read the email Allison had sent. He wanted to look at it first before revealing the contents of whatever Allison had learned about her father.

Jo swiped her hands down her jeans.

Nervous? “Are you ready?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter.” Tension rolled from her. She sighed multiple times. “I left Michigan, left the danger, and now it feels like I’m finally going back and facing it.”

“From a distance. You aren’t in Michigan.” Though it remained to be seen if they would need to go there at some point.

“It’s okay. This is what I wanted all along—for the police to take me seriously and investigate Mom’s murder.”

Cole clicked on the videoconferencing link.

And waited.