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As the county vehicle approached the safe house, Jo’s chest tightened with her rising panic. She might have fallen asleep from exhaustion along the drive that took almost three hours.

But now she was wide awake. A couple of outdoor lights illuminated the house along the coast.

What was she going to say to Hawk? I let your brother run after the killer. I left Seattle , left him behind...

She closed her eyes and tried not to berate herself—because really, what could she have done to stop him?

It wasn’t like he asked her opinion before he jumped out the window and chased after the guy.

Cole had made his own decision. He’d made his choice.

Still, his determination to stop Merrick revolved around protecting Jo.

She hadn’t heard anything yet about Cole—had he survived, or was he ... gone? She tried not to think the worst.

Please come back to me , Cole.

As if she had any right to him.

Sanders steered up to the house and parked behind Hawk’s vehicle. Hawk rushed from the house.

“Anything on Cole?” he asked.

Detective Sanders shook his head. Hawk pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead and turned his back on them. Sanders escorted Jo inside the house.

A few lights were on as she dropped her bag on the sofa.

The place felt ... empty ... without Cole.

Sanders proceeded to tell Hawk about the events.

He wasn’t there inside the library with them, but Jo had told him what she and Cole had learned.

They believed they understood the event that had tied her mother and father and Mason together.

Sanders had contacted the Michigan detective about identifying the skull and confirming the identity—Helen Martin.

Pieces of the investigative puzzle were coming together, and yet Jo still had so many questions.

She left Detective Sanders and Hawk to talk and make calls in their search for Cole as well as answers.

Jo moved to the windows. Dusk would soon turn everything obscure.

She could hear the waves crashing but would have to step out onto the porch to see them. Clouds billowed and raced across the sky. The weather in Seattle was no match for the raw and terrible beauty here. The glorious and yet painful experience.

She stepped outside onto the deck, shutting the door behind her.

Who knew if either of the two men would discover she’d left the house? Or maybe they would and give her space—that’s what Cole would do. Then eventually, he would join her outside. Stand next to her as if bearing the burden with her.

She spoke to the wind and rain. The storm and the sea.

But mostly to God.

“Lord, I’ve lost so much already. I’m still gutted from what happened to Mom.

I’ve had two fathers leave me. Just walk out on me.

Now I can’t lose Cole too. I just can’t.

Please keep him safe and ... bring him back to me.

He doesn’t belong to me, I know he doesn’t, so maybe if you can’t bring him back to me, take him somewhere safe.

If I never see him again but I know that he’s safe, that’s okay.

That’s fine. Just ... whatever part of him I held on to for myself, Lord, I give that over to you. Please ... just keep him safe.”

She said the words out loud, though only God could hear them over the storm. She thought back to the beach around this time last year, when she’d rescued a dying Cole from the rocky shores during a king tide ... the riptides almost took him. Had they taken him this time for real?

Where are you?

Because if he was alive, if he was okay, he would have called Hawk. She couldn’t keep thinking this way and had to ignore the fear gripping her, the ache in her chest ... God , please keep him safe.

If he’s even still alive.

She almost dreaded the moment that Hawk would let her know he’d heard something. She feared it wouldn’t be good.

“Jo,” Hawk said.

And here he was, to tell her the news.

“You need to get back inside,” he said. “It’s too cold.”

Hawk pressed an arm around Jo and tugged her from the rail, then led her back inside. Soaking wet. She hated dripping all over the floor.

“Cole will have my hide if I let anything happen to you.”

She lifted her gaze, hopeful.

He smiled. “Yes, I heard from Cole. He’s okay.”

She sagged. Almost leaned into Hawk, but she kept her composure. “Where is he?”

“He’s on his way. Cole says you’re in danger, so we’re going to move again when he gets here. Sanders left to get a new safe house ready.”

“I’ve always been in danger. I don’t even know why.”

The way Hawk looked at her, she suspected he might know.

“Well?”

“Cole learned some things, though I don’t know what it all means. It sounds like your father might know.”

Yeah, of course he did. “And someone is after me to get to him. Is that what you’re saying?”

“It’s possible.”

“And likely.” Tired. She was just so tired. “I’m just ... I’m going to change.”

His expression one of relief, he nodded. “Pack up all your stuff so we can be ready to leave here for good. I can help you pack up the art, or Remi and I can come back to get it later.”

“And go where? This is a safe house, isn’t it?”

“Just be ready. I’ll warm up the soup Remi sent.”

Jo headed for her room, and in the bathroom, she took a long, hot shower to warm up.

Then, after thick and creamy homemade chicken noodle soup—compliments of Brad at the Cedar Trails kitchen—Jo needed time alone. Wasn’t like she could sleep, but she didn’t want to sit in the big spacious living room with Hawk. He was pacing. Calling people. On his laptop.

What was taking Cole so long?

So she moved to the office to wait.

She sat in the office and listened to the waves and just sketched whatever came to mind, but her heart was so heavy, all the images were morbid.

Still, she could put the puzzle pieces together.

She sketched the various faces she’d seen today in the images, along with the space shuttle.

Drew great streaks across the page to depict the orbiter traveling through space.

Jo set that aside, then opened up her tablet and searched on the man in charge of Resonant’s space shuttle team— Liberty .

Along with her father, he was the only one in the photograph still surviving.

The only one, along with her father, who had not been murdered.

Pop , why didn’t you just tell me? That would have been so much easier.

Maybe she and Cole needed to pay Troy Martin a visit and ask him the hard questions.

The house shuddered. Jo got up to look out the window. Darkness had settled in. No stars lit up the sky. She heard the ocean’s turmoil as the wind gusted so hard an eerie wail blew through the walls.

Jo imagined she was in a gothic novel, sans the romance. She’d given up romance. All she cared about was Cole returning from his attempt to stop a bad guy who’d come after her.

While she waited for him, she could do her part, though, and so she continued to research, intending to read about Martin’s role at Resonant and his new role in a high-level position at another aerospace company.

His mug was in a few pictures, and it was like looking at age-progression photographs.

He looked familiar. She might have even seen him before.

That fact gnawed at the back of her mind.

She’d seen so many faces, though, she could be mixing them all up.

But then she quickly got sucked into reading about the other space shuttle tragedies—the Challenger and Columbia —and the investigations surrounding them.

In the case of the Challenger , engineers had tried to warn those in charge of giving the go-ahead to launch.

In fact, one engineer in particular had feared for his life.

His testimony as a whistleblower would be damaging to those in power.

Jo’s heart pounded. Could that be it?

Mom and Pop ... had been whistleblowers? Or at least they’d tried. Or maybe they’d felt too threatened to even come forward. She didn’t know. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions, but this sounded reasonable.

She set her tablet aside. She had to tell someone. Plus, she could ask Hawk if he’d heard anything more from Cole, who was supposed to be on his way. Jo bolted from the chair and opened the door, padded down the hallway to an empty living room. Hawk’s laptop sat open on the table.

“Hawk?” Where’d you go?

A door was banging somewhere.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

She crept through the house and found the door to the garage open. Cold air rushed inside.

Chills crawled over Jo. She backstepped. I need to get my gun.

The power went out. Jo froze, then hearing a noise, she tugged her cell from her pocket and lifted it to shine the flashlight in the face of an intruder who stepped through the open doorway.

She instantly recognized him—the face she’d been working on since Michigan.

“You.”