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In the cold, dark space of Pop’s office at the R&D, Jo tried to escape the ties on her wrists and legs. She’d suffered so much already. Why did I let him take me?

When he’d walked through the door at the safe house, she instantly recognized him as someone she’d seen in Michigan.

A random guy on the sidewalk. Someone who hadn’t registered in her mind as anyone but a stranger.

She’d sketched an image of him. Troy Martin had aged more than she could have imagined from that original picture of him with her parents, Mason Hyde, and his wife—Helen Martin.

He most certainly was the one to send Mom the skull. That he had the skull was enough to confirm to Jo he was the one to both murder his wife and hide her body. Helen had gone missing and had never been found. But this man had known exactly where her body was.

Jo should not underestimate how far this man would go.

He was holding Jo, waiting for Pop. He wanted to trade her for her father.

How did he think he could get away with this?

What if her father just called the police?

Then again, she had a feeling that her father had already experienced just how nasty this man could be, and a call to the cops would risk Jo’s life.

He would probably make the trade. Still, what if her father showed up to trade himself for her?

Then what? Like Martin would let her live.

She knew too much. Right. Finally, she knew something.

Footfalls alerted her that he’d come back from wherever he’d gone. She’d hoped to get out of these ties and escape before he returned. But she had made zero progress.

“The secret’s out, you know. You can’t get away with this.” Why did she bother? This guy was some sort of rocket scientist and thought bringing her here was a good idea.

He paced the greasy, exhaust-filled space. Growled, then scraped all the model cars off the shelf. And stomped on them. The space shuttle and rocket were missing.

He was losing it. Really losing it. And Jo shouldn’t antagonize him, but man, she really wanted to. She wished she had her wrench, Little Jo.

“So, what was with the skull you sent to my mom?” Though she knew, might as well get the whole story if she could. “That was your wife . Did you kill your own wife?”

He turned and walked toward her, anger and fear twisting his face, then he relaxed.

Composed himself and looked at her like he knew what she was trying to do and he wasn’t falling for it.

He wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted to know.

Wasn’t going to monologue like the villain in every superhero movie.

She said nothing more. What could she say?

His pacing picked up.

Pacing, pacing, pacing.

He growled again. Dug through Pop’s drawers and found duct tape.

Great. She’d done it now. She’d asked one question. Okay, maybe two. He tore off a piece and then grabbed her cheeks, pinching hard to make her cry out—but she refused to give him that satisfaction—then he plastered the tape across her closed mouth.

I will not cry.

But she really wanted to. She was ready for this to end and wished it had never started. She should have fought, but he claimed that all he had to do was press a button and Hawk would die. He might have been bluffing, but the risk was too great. She would find another way out of this.

Except ... well, Hawk. That button—real or not—remained a risk.

Jo held on to hope that Cole had arrived at the safe house by now and had already found Hawk alive and well somewhere. He could be looking for her even now. But how would he find her? This place was probably not on his radar and would be the last place he would think to look.

“He’s not coming.” The man kicked the desk, then her chair.

“I’m here.” Her father emerged from the front of the shop.

“Pop!” But the word was indiscernible with duct tape covering her mouth. Tears streamed from her eyes. Her father had shown up. Now they could both die together. He should have stayed away. She twisted and turned, fighting the ties.

Her father stepped into his old office, looking like his old self—the one she’d known anyway.

He was in coveralls. He looked like he’d been working on building something all day.

Where had he been after she’d seen him earlier in Seattle?

All these questions she wanted to ask him, but she had been silenced.

Could this Martin jerk give her a few moments with her father?

There was still so much more she wanted to say to him before they were both silenced forever. She forgave him the instant she saw him, believing with all her heart that all could be explained. He’d done it for her. He’d left for her sake. She knew that now.

“You wanted me. You have me. Now let her go.”

“I want you, but you know what else I want. Now, where is it? Give it to me now.”

Pop stepped forward. He never looked at her but kept his gaze pinned on Martin. He looked haggard—more worn-down than she’d ever seen him—and at the same time intimidating.

“Once she’s free.”

“You don’t hold any cards, Driscoll. You never did.

Give it to me now, and I’ll let her walk out.

But refuse me, and I’ll set the bomb off.

It’s under her chair.” Martin showed the trigger device.

The same device he’d shown to her, threatening to kill Hawk.

He was bluffing. There was no bomb under her.

I mean , I don’t think there is.

Oh , I hope there isn’t a bomb.

“You wouldn’t blow yourself up,” Pop said.

“You killed your own wife to keep the secret that you were using substandard materials that could not hold up under the pressure, the forces of acceleration, eventually killing people. The Liberty blew up because of you. I warned you it would happen. Helen tried to talk you down, and you killed her.”

Pop looked at Jo. “I knew that your mother was next, Jo. If Martin lost the NASA contract due to his ineptitude, he lost the company. He lost everything. He was willing to kill anyone who stood in his way. Your mother and I had no choice but to disappear. I wish I would have stayed and fought. But Martin owned the town, and he owned the chief of police, his brother.”

“And you were just a lowly engineer,” Martin said. “If you had stayed, you’d be dead, and I wouldn’t have to be here now. But here we are.”

“Yes, here we are. You’re not going to blow yourself up after all the trouble you’ve gone to.”

“You called my bluff. But I will shoot her in the head.” Martin produced a gun, whipped it out faster than Jo could have imagined. And pointed it at her temple.

Jo half wished her father was a sniper rather than an engineer so he could just take this man out from a distance and be done with it. No one else was going to do it. No one else would save them because there was simply no place to perch and see inside this space.

Pop tossed the model space shuttle to Martin, and he caught it. “What’s this?”

“Everything’s inside.”

All this time, the space shuttle must have had a small data card in it.

Martin smiled. “Smart man. Now, walk with me.” Pointing his pistol at Pop, he gestured for him to step outside into the back.

“We had a deal. Let her go.”

“Oh, I’m setting her free. And then you’ll be so distraught that she died in a fire that you throw yourself off the bridge. I call that poetic justice. I should have left you to pursue your interest in infrastructures.”

Pop looked at her, his face twisted in anguish. “Remember what I told you—”

“You don’t get to stall.” Martin fired the gun in Jo’s direction. He missed, but she thought that might have been intentional.

She tried to scream against the tape on her mouth, even though she hadn’t wanted to give Martin that satisfaction. Pop sent her a hard stare, looking as if he was trying to communicate with her through his eyes, then disappeared out the door with Martin.

What? What had he been going to say? “Remember what I told you.” What did he tell me?

A small explosion resounded at the back of the office. So Martin had set up a bomb after all. One intended to burn the place down. Fire quickly spread up the walls.

I’m not going to die. I cannot die here. God , I don’t want to die.

Jo hopped the chair toward the door. Even if she had to hop outside in this chair, she’d do it. In the early hours of the morning, surely someone would call the fire department, and they’d have this out in no time. They’d put it out before she got burned up, if she couldn’t escape.

Right. This place would burn fast. She couldn’t wait on anyone to save her.

God , help me!

The chair tipped over. Not good. This would take her longer.

She pushed and tried to slide toward an escape while at the same time trying to break free of her ties.

If she could break part of the chair, she could escape.

Why hadn’t her father, whom she knew to be supersmart, come up with a better plan?

One that couldn’t so easily leave them both vulnerable.

Of course Troy Martin, a man who would kill his wife, had no plans to leave either of them alive.

“Remember what I told you.” Well, obviously Pop couldn’t just speak plainly in front of Martin, so he must have sent a cryptic message that could somehow help her out of this situation.

What was it? Time was ticking. Fire was spreading, and she hadn’t gotten free yet.

The flames spread fast and the smoke thickened. The door was only a few yards away. It might as well have been ten miles.