After Chloe returned the first aid supplies to her duffel bag, she dropped her head back onto the headrest and stared out the SUV’s windows. She tried to escape the unbearable images of the last hour by studying the landscape as she’d done on her way to the cave, but sunset had come. Dark was descending, and the limestone cliffs flew by like hulking, prehistoric beasts. The SUV quickly left Qumran behind.

Surreal. There was no other way to describe the events of the day.

She glanced at the driver. Chief of security, he’d said. Steven “Ridge” Ridgeway. He couldn’t be very good at what he did, could he? After all, he now had one employee dead and the other shot and bleeding next to her on the back seat. Who knew what might have happened to anything found in the cave? And what about the archaeologists? Were they safe?

She was about to ask when a high-pitched whine caught her attention.

“What’s that?” she asked.

Seconds later, what could only be another bullet shattered the rear window and lodged into the back of the front passenger seat. Chloe cried in terror.

“Get down!” Ridge yelled. “We’ve got to outrun them!”

The SUV careened over the desert landscape. A rain of bullets assaulted the vehicle.

Yitzhak groaned and pushed himself up off the floor where he’d slid at Ridge’s first twist of the steering wheel. He hadn’t put the seatbelt back on after Chloe had finished with his shoulder. As soon as he sat at her side again, he grabbed the gun from her hand then turned to look out the rear window.

Chloe bit back another scream. “Stay down, Yitzhak. Please!”

Ignoring her plea, he knelt on the seat, crouching and with his chest pressed against the back cushion. Using the headrest to brace his good hand, he aimed and kept his gaze fixed on the motorcycle closest to them. “Keep going,” he said to Ridge. “Ari’s gun is loaded. I can give us space.”

Another swerve. “Not my first choice to stress your body any further,” Ridge said, “but if you think you can, do your best. As long as you don’t make your shoulder any worse.”

Chloe couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Panic mounted. “We have to get out of here! Where are you taking us? Who are they? Why are they shooting at us? Where’s the police?”

“Aim for the tires,” Ridge told Yitzhak, ignoring Chloe’s questions. “Small targets, I know, but if you pop one, he can’t follow us.”

“Where are we going?” she asked again, unable to control her fear.

“For help.” Ridge tossed his phone over his shoulder. It hit her right arm she grabbed it like the lifeline it represented. “Here. Redial the last number I called. Tell Max we’re under fire, to call for help, to make sure they meet us at the museum.”

Chloe’s fingers shook so hard that she dropped the phone twice. In frustration, she fisted it and then, with a fierce jab, punched the redial icon. Moments later, a deep voice answered.

“I’m on my way,” he said. “The police, too. Plus, I notified the embassy. They need to know what’s happened where a whole team of American archaeologists—”

“Wait!”

Max went silent.

“Listen to me!” she cried, her voice gaining strength with every word. “Ridge had me call. Maniacs with guns are chasing us across the desert. On motorcycles! Motorcycles on the desert. Please help us. Yitzhak is hurt. Ridge is insane behind the wheel, and these guys on the motorcycles keep on coming!”

Another pause followed her blast of words. Then a laugh. “Are you the reporter?”

“Who cares? They’re shooting. At us! Help!”

“She’s right, Max,” Ridge called out. “Two on bikes are shooting at the SUV. With AK-47s. Call museum security. We’re on our way there. Right now. And, yes. She’s the reporter.”

The SUV banked left, hard. Chloe lost her balance. The phone flew out of her hand then slid under the driver’s seat. “No…!”

“What happened?” Ridge asked.

“I lost the phone.”

“Doesn’t matter. Max has this.”

She scrambled up on her knees to look back at the shooters. The motorcycles had pulled closer.

Ridge yelled. “Get down!”

“Down, Miss Williams!” Yitzhak echoed then called over his shoulder. “Turn right, Ridge. That one’s closest. I can hit his bike.”

This couldn’t be happening. She was on assignment, not in a James Bond movie. “But—”

“Go—”

The blast deafened her. Contrary to the men’s orders, she bobbed up to glance out the back. A dark cloud mushroomed up from the desert floor as they kept going, orange flames lighting up the heart of the darkness. The motorcycle whine pierced through the ringing in her ears, but she could see only one bike now. Yitzhak’s bullet had found its target.

“Hang on!” Ridge warned.

The car swerved to the left, tipped up on two tires, crashed down on all four again to straighten out, and then sped even more. “We’re almost at the museum.”

Ridge’s attempt at reassurance didn’t help.

Chloe tried to settle her galloping heartbeat with a couple of long, deep breaths. They didn’t do much.

“The museum?” she said, collapsing onto the seat, spent energy leaving her muscles jelly-like. “Really? It feels as though we left the cave days ago.” The events of the day had left her with a ferocious headache. She ran a hand through her hair, dislodging the last few pins left where she’d pinned it into a knot while still on the plane. “Well, no. Maybe only a few seconds ago. I can’t keep track of time. It feels as though they’ve been shooting at us for ages.”

At her side, Yitzhak cradled the gun in his lap. “Adrenaline rush, miss. It can make time seem slow or fast. We’re not out of danger yet, but one shooter is better than two.”

“I suppose.” Heart pounding, she went to glance out behind them again, but Yitzhak used his bad hand to caution her. The effort he expended got through to her. His good hand never left the gun.

“You’ll be safer if you stay down, miss—”

“Call me Chloe.”

He nodded. “We’ll be there soon, Chloe.”

“Hear, hear!” Ridge added.

Chloe groaned. “Not soon enough.”

To Chloe’s dismay, Ridge wouldn’t let her out of the car when they reached the museum. He gave her another of those razor-sharp stares, and said he’d be right back.

“It’s better for us to stay in the car,” Yitzhak said, leaning against the car door. Exhaustion had etched deep lines on his shadowed features. In spite of the pain, he still held the gun clasped against his thigh. “For protection,” he added.

Chloe couldn’t see how staying in the car would offer any more protection than going inside the museum, since she doubted the other motorcycle rider was the kind who’d give up easily. She knew Yitzhak would do his best to protect her, but the man was in no shape to do battle. Although his wound wasn’t fatal, he had lost a decent amount of blood, and it would have worn him out. She knew. Over the years, Chloe had taken numerous advanced first aid courses, only too aware how basic medical knowledge might come in handy on an assignment. Like it had on this one.

When Ridge came back out, a frown lined his brow. He opened Yitzhak’s door to help the injured man from the car. “Dr. Cohn isn’t at Ein Gedi today. The museum’s staff nurse is still here, though, and she can help you with your shoulder. Museum security wants an interview with you. I figure police will come, too.” He shrugged.

“Fine,” Yitzhak said.

Ridge went on. “Max will make sure you get home once the authorities are done with your statement.” He turned to Chloe. “You and I are going straight to Jerusalem. I need to report to the archeology team, come up with a plan for going forward, and I’m sure you want to get back to your hotel. At some point, maybe even tonight, the U.S. Consulate will want to talk to us.”

Chloe closed her eyes in relief. “Thank you.” She turned to Yitzhak. “I hope to see you back at full speed soon.”

He thanked her, and Ridge helped him into the museum building. A short while later, as the sky shone dark and starry, he pulled the SUV onto the highway back to Jerusalem. For a while, silence filled the car.

Then Ridge glanced sideways. “What made you take this assignment?”

“Qumran. I couldn’t pass it up.”

“You must have known it’d be tough out here.”

“Tough? Of course. But running from assassins is something totally different. No writer in her right mind would think anything like that when offered an assignment outside of a combat zone.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his shrug, conceding her point. But then, he added, “Some would say the West Bank is a combat zone.”

She knew what he meant, but decided to continue answering his question. “When my editor called last week, I jumped at the chance. I really wanted to cover the finds at this cave.” No, she needed to cover them, but he didn’t have to know that. “I’d been hearing about them since earlier in the year.”

“Okay. But I hear nothing’s turned up like the earlier scrolls. I know those included the Book of Isaiah, all those psalms…”

“True. I believe they’ve already found all the large scrolls they’re likely to find—back in the 40s and 50s, I mean. But that doesn’t mean nothing significant will ever show up again.”

He turned her way momentarily, but she couldn’t read his expression in the dark. He probably thought she was insane. And maybe she was. “I suppose every reporter has a healthy helping of crazy in them.”

He barked a laugh at her. “Hey, I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to. I could tell what you were thinking.” She felt again a spark of the excitement the conversation with Maureen had ignited. “I realize they’ve only found small scraps of manuscript in this new cave, but rumors have been making the archeology rounds that some of these fragments contain substantial supportive material. They could prove significant to history. And I keep hearing it. From reputable sources, you understand.”

“You’re just dying to get your eyes on what they’ve found.”

It wasn’t a question. “Well, of course! I can’t wait to see the manuscripts, photograph them. And I want to interview the experts. It all should make for a fascinating article, and that’s what I’ve been hired to write. Just imagine how hard I’ve had to fight my imagination. It hasn’t been easy. My thoughts keep flying back to the original scrolls to play ‘what if?’”

“What can you expect to learn from these fragments?”

His skepticism challenged her to present her best case. His skepticism, though, gave her momentary pause. And the dread of ridicule. For some reason, she didn’t want this man thinking she really was all kinds of crazy. “You’re the one who’s been out there on site. Don’t tell me you haven’t talked to any of the team members.”

“I tend to stay busy and out of their way.”

The memory of the motorcycles rushed back. Chloe shuddered. “I suppose you do. The men on the motorcycles…were they after the pieces found at the dig?”

He paused. Then, “I can’t be sure. But if you’re right, and the findings are that major, who knows who might want them. I don’t need to tell you there’s a huge black market in antiquities.”

He didn’t know. She hesitated, then drew a bracing breath. “These wouldn’t just be antiquities.”

“Oh?”

Chloe still wasn’t certain how much to trust this man, but she had seen signs of compassion in him. He couldn’t be all bad. And she usually was a decent judge of character. He had made sure both his employees were taken care of, he hadn’t harmed her yet, nor had he let anyone else hurt her.

She took the plunge. “This cave came as a complete surprise to everyone. Experts suspect there are still more to find, but nothing like the first eleven. Now twelve.”

He only nodded, his gaze on the empty road ahead.

Chloe continued. “At first, it appeared to be only the one main chamber. But when the Israeli Antiquities Authority found another opening in an adjacent cliff, they realized it led to an unknown room. Then they noticed they were connected. Essentially, it’s one cave with two rooms. They got the necessary permits, excavated, and found a cache of pottery, mostly broken and for all practical purposes empty. But, just like in the earlier finds, there were fragments of manuscript left behind inside the jars.”

“So far, you haven’t told me anything to explain the killers or your insistence on the importance of this cave.”

Time to speak up. “Those pieces of manuscript are said to date to the first century, shortly after the Crucifixion of Jesus.”

By the light of a streetlight, she caught the surprise in his expression. “Those would be rare. Are you talking about New Testament Scripture?”

“No…” She drew out the syllable, then forged ahead. “Someone wrote those manuscripts. If the fragments of parchment are parts of first century writings, then there’s an interesting potential scenario. Either the residents brought contemporary writings with them or there were scribes among them. I’ve hear rumblings about possible Josephus-like accounts, only earlier even than his.”

She heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Are you talking eyewitness accounts?”

Chloe didn’t answer, but instead let him draw his own conclusions.

“I suppose…” he continued, “that the question is what was witnessed. Right?”

“Exactly.”

After a few minutes of silence, as the traffic picked up on their approach to Jerusalem, Chloe could no longer contain her excitement. “The possibility exists of parchments that contain eyewitness accounts to the man Jesus. Not only to his ministry, but evidence of his divinity. And of his resurrected days. Beyond what his disciples said, that is. What makes these fragments so intriguing is that they may have been written by a Jewish skeptic, not a follower of Christ. If this kind of eyewitness account to the truth of the Lord’s identity really exists, then I want to be part of the discovery, of the moment.”

She had to be.

Truth mattered.

“You’re a Christian,” he commented.

“My whole life.”

And because of her faith, she felt her trip to Qumran was more a mission than a job. Too much of life was saturated with falsehood and deceit. When her father was caught embezzling corporate funds and her mother’s multiple infidelities were uncovered, her youth had imploded into nothing more than a sham façade. Chloe had determined at that moment to pursue truth, truth that would stand the test of time. The truth of God, the only One who’d remained true when her life had collapsed.

Her hatred of lies and deception compelled her to present proof in her work to as many people as possible. But even though she was able to share what she knew about the potential in the cave, she wasn’t ready to reveal that much of herself to Ridge. “Truth matters. Early records matter,” she said instead. “And I want to be the one to write about them.”

“Is it all about the ‘scoop’?”

“Not at all. The material in the ‘scoop’ is much more important than being the first to report.”

They fell silent again, and even though she wouldn’t have believed it possible, she relaxed. A short time later, a necklace of bright street lights made her open her eyes again.

“Sorry I can’t call it a good morning yet,” Ridge said, “but even that short rest will have done you good.” He rounded a corner far more smoothly in traffic than when he’d driven to outmaneuver the motorcycles in the desert. “You’d better prepare yourself,” he added. “Law enforcement is waiting for us. Their questioning won’t be fun.”

Chloe stretched her arms over her head, trying to ease out the achy kinks she felt all over her body. “So far, nothing about this assignment has been fun. I’m working, so fun wasn’t going to be the focus of my trip from the start. But I do wish it were. I’d love to get to know this land much better.”

“You can always return after you’ve finished your piece for the magazine.”

“Sure. But the next job is always waiting around the corner.”

“I’m self-employed, too. I know how that goes.

They arrived at the hotel lobby, where they were met by Richard Hobbes from the U.S. Consulate and two Israeli detectives. The three men wore matching grim expressions.

Even though she’d done nothing wrong, Chloe knew Ridge had been right. She glanced at him.

He shrugged as if to say, I warned you.

Nothing about the questioning was going to be even remotely pleasant. Certainly not fun.

What a trip this was turning out to be.

But she had to keep her mind on the goal.

Truth. God’s truth.

What would the parchments reveal?

“I have to give her credit,” Ridge admitted to Max as they watched the Jerusalem police detectives still questioning Chloe Williams hours after they’d finished with him. “She’s had a rotten welcome to Israel.”

Max arched a brow. “You weren’t that generous earlier. You didn’t like her questions, and she sure set you off when she wondered if she could trust you.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “When killers are tailing your car, the last thing you want to deal with is a stubborn reporter. Especially one who questions your every move. Questions you, even.”

The best sniper C/O.P.S. had on staff crossed massive arms over his chest. “Did she really do that, boss? Can’t you see where she was coming from?”

Ridge fought to not squirm. “Okay, yeah, but she didn’t make it easy to protect her.” He shrugged. “Still, you do have a point. She has held up pretty well, even through all this questioning.”

Max turned to watch Chloe gesture in response to a question, intensity on her features. “I guess that if you ask her, she feels more like the suspect than the witness. And, seriously, she was a potential victim, Ridge. You don’t think the shooter would have left her alive if he’d had the chance, do you?”

“You’re right. I can’t be sure what might have happened if I hadn’t reached her when I did.”

“Sometimes,” Max said, “you’re too focused on one aspect of a mission to see the overall picture. As if you’re the only one who can do anything to reach the goal. But we’re all a team. Remember that.”

Sure. He was a bit of a control freak, but the cliché applied to him. The buck did stop with him. He was responsible for his men, the firm, the assignments they took on, and their eventual outcome. But he couldn’t always control everything. Today was a vivid example of that.

As he watched Chloe respond to question after question, he noticed the faint lines of exhaustion around her eyes. A pair of creases had etched themselves down either side of her mouth over the last few hours. Anxiety darkened her green eyes, dimming the sparkle he’d noticed every time she’d challenged him earlier. Still, the determination he’d noticed from the start still shone there.

The overhead chandelier in the small hotel ballroom spilled bright glints over her red hair. Ridge smiled. She lived up to the conventional image of a redhead: fiery, stubborn, opinionated, and evidently far more self-reliant than her slender frame and delicate features might otherwise indicate. Despite her exhaustion, Chloe glowed in the light that cast the planes of her features as ivory and cream. Her beauty, hidden for most of the day by the green scarf and then the shadows in the car, shone in the elegant hall. An ethereal monarch from times gone by.

Oh, man!

He was a fool, thinking along those lines. He couldn’t let himself fixate on a pretty face, one whose safety was his responsibility. The time had come to intervene.

“Gentlemen,” he said, his voice polite but firm. “Miss Williams looks like she needs a break.” Her gratitude made him smile. He’d finally raised her opinion of him. “I imagine she hasn’t had any decent sleep since before she boarded her flight in the U.S. She’s not going anywhere, and if you have more questions, I’m sure she’ll be happy to oblige tomorrow or the day after.”

Her opinion plummeted again. She’d been on his side until he’d offered the cops another crack at her. That earned him one more green glare.

At his side, Max laughed. “Have your hands full, don’t you?”

Ridge slipped his hands in his pockets. “We all do. She’s part of the firm’s assignment. In fact, I’m sending you out to the site with her tomorrow.”

Max laughed and raised his hands to shoulder height, palms out, slowly backing away. “No, sir! Yitzhak’s her bodyguard, and I’m all about behind-the-scenes operations. That’s the way we always execute. Besides, you’re the boss. You get to watch her until Yitzhak’s better. You, my man, are stuck with the stubborn redhead. I’m on my way now to see Sarah. I need to break the news about her husband.”

“No! That’s my responsibility—”

“There you go again, trying to rely only on yourself. You’re needed here, with Chloe. I can deal with Sarah. Don’t forget, Ari was my friend, too.”

Sadness threatened to swamp Ridge, but he had to fight off. There’d be time to mourn after this assignment was completed. Max was making sense, but he didn’t have to like it. And as Yitzhak’s boss, he was ultimately responsible for Chloe’s safety from this point on.

To tell the truth, he didn’t know if he would have been able to truly turn her over to Max’s care. And he didn’t know what to think about that. But he had to stay, care for her.

Ridge had known it all along, but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. Problem was, the moment he’d laid eyes on Chloe, he’d recognized she’d be nothing but all kinds of trouble. And she had since proven that first impression true. He could only hope that today might have scared her into a greater measure of cooperation.

But something in the tilt of her head and the set of her shoulders as she walked toward him and Max told him they’d be negotiating her cooperation every step of the way. On the other hand, it also meant he had a fighter on his hands. Only a fighter stood a chance against the killers at the site.

After knowing Chloe Williams hours less than one day, he knew no logical argument would convince her she should head back to the safety of home.

Laughing.

The two muscle-bound tough guys were laughing at her. Chloe, who’d never had a single aggressive tendency, felt so cranky and out-of-sorts that she had to fight the urge to go smack them both. There was nothing funny about her situation.

“From what the police just told me,” she said, crossing the room, “I’m stuck with one of you from now on. I never realized Yitzhak was my bodyguard—I thought he was my driver. I never even knew I needed a bodyguard. It would have been nice to know that bit of data.”

“When do you think I should have presented it to you?” Ridge asked. “When I knocked you down to take a bullet for you or while I drove to get away from the terrorist determined to kill you?”

All of Chloe’s bravado fled. Her suddenly weak hand dropped her duffel bag. Shudders like the ones that had overcome her out on the cliff in Qumran started again. “Terrorist?” she asked in a whisper. “To…kill me?”

“Let’s see. You’re American”—he ticked up a finger—“a woman”—two fingers—“an infidel”—three fingers—“and a reporter.” He waggled all four fingers. “Four strikes against you in the eyes of Muslim extremists. They especially hate reporters. They consider you propagandists for the ‘Great Satan’. They weren’t chasing us to serve you afternoon tea with the queen.”

Icy fear numbed her to the core. “Muslim extremists?”

“Again, Qumran’s in the West Bank. It’s only a few miles from the caves to Palestinian controlled territory. Take your pick. You have the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank, Hamas is only sixty some miles away in Gaza, and arrests of ISIS members are up all across the region. The dig site needs our kind of security for more reasons than just treasure hunters.”

Chloe had always been aware of the instability in the Middle East, but in spite of the past Intifadas she’d always considered Israel a relatively safe place. “You know, this assignment is so meaningful to me that I didn’t think of much but the new discoveries. I should have given safety and all the risks more consideration, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

The harsh lines of his rugged face softened. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s enough for you to understand that when I tell you to do something, I’m speaking for your benefit. I may not have time to explain my reasons. I promise, I’m not really such a big jerk.”

She smiled at his attempt at humor, but his tall black friend laughed and nodded slowly. “This is going to be one interesting ride,” Max said. “I’ll see you both soon.”

Chloe waved a silent goodbye as she tried to collect her thoughts. How could she have been so blind? Of course, she knew the potential dangers when covering the Middle East. And she also knew that any archaeological dig run by smart professionals would hire security. Everyone knew that ancient artifacts held enormous value for collectors world-wide.

When Max had gone, Ridge crossed to her side.

She blushed. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” He picked up her duffel. “Please. Come with me. Let’s get you to your room. That way you can get a fresh start in the morning.”

“Will I be able to go back to the site tomorrow?”

In front of the bank of elevators, he shrugged and stepped aside to let her push the call button. “I doubt the Antiquities Authority is going to shut it down. They’ll probably just send us back-up.”

“Police?”

“Army, I expect.”

Chloe stepped into the elevator, and sent it up toward her floor. But a question in the back of her mind needed an answer. “Were they really trying to kill me?”

“I don’t think it was a personal thing,” Ridge answered, wearing a frown. “Now that you’ve told me about the possibility of such a major discovery, and that word has spread about it, I’d have to guess they want what’s been found. And they probably want to make sure nothing more is found.”

“I’m afraid that would make sense. The rumors out there are about scroll fragments with religious significance. Like I told you, there’s a chance they support the claims of Christianity. With religious undercurrents being what they are in this part of the world, I can see where extremists would object to any further proof.”

“Right there you have one good reason for us to be hired.”

“But unless the site is completely shut down, attacks will continue.” A prospect that didn’t ease her anxiety. “Anyone involved with the dig will also become a target. They’re eyewitnesses to the material.”

Ridge nodded. “It’s been in the news how ISIS members destroyed religious sites in their path that don’t agree with their version of faith. Cultural sites, too. They don’t care whether they’re Christian, Muslim or pagan.”

“Such incredible losses.”

He went on. “Fragments of parchment that so far haven’t shown any important writings sound like nothing more than dusty museum material.”

“When I said the finds could be significant, I meant it. Different experts believe various groups inhabited Qumran at different times. Most of those groups included scribes. They would have written manuscripts about their current events. They would have been the reporters of their time. While most of Qumran’s residents were deeply devout Jews, there’s enough evidence to suggest at least some of the residents were later arrivals. And some may even have been believers in Jesus.”

The elevator came to a stop. They stepped out into the silent hallway and headed toward her room. It struck Chloe how late it was—or early in the morning.

She was beyond exhausted, getting a bizarre second—maybe third—wind, and babbling. She couldn’t stop herself. This mattered too much. “There are experts who think those early believers might be responsible for fragments—”

Ridge spun in front of her, cutting her off. “Is this your room?” he asked, blocking the door.

That was when she noticed the door cracked ajar. A sick sensation in her stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten since the plane. Bile burned into her throat.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Wait here.”

But as he walked in, she followed. It was her room, where she’d left her suitcase and her laptop. She had wanted Yitzhak to drive her to the caves right away because she hadn’t wanted to wait to see the legendary site. But all that trip had gained her was fear and danger.

Ridge crouched, looking like a coiled cobra, pressed against the wall, gun in hand. He darted piercing looks around the dark room, like something out of a movie.

Chloe glanced around, too. Right away, she saw the open balcony doors. The silhouette of a man, all in black, slid over the railing as she stepped further into the room. “The balcony—”

But before she’d finished, Ridge followed the shadow. He straddled the solid half-wall, about to go over after the intruder. “Lock yourself in and check to see if anything’s missing. Don’t leave. Wait for me!”

Everything in her wanted to stop him, to keep him close. He’d impressed her with his quick, clear-minded decision-making, and in spite of what she’d said earlier in the day, she did feel safer around him. She no longer questioned whether he knew what he was doing. She now suspected he was the brains of the operation. His men showed him respect. All of them also seemed good friends. Those relationships spoke volumes.

And, once again, fear was sending her thoughts down a useless rabbit trail. A habit she turned to when she couldn’t deal with a disturbing reality. Ridge had told her to check the room to see if the intruder had taken anything, and that made sense, if for no better reason than to settle her nerves with something concrete to do. It wouldn’t take much doing, either. She’d only left two things behind.

Sure enough, one was missing. The most important one. “My laptop!”

All her research. All the supporting material she’d downloaded. All the preparation she’d done before the trip.

Gone.

“You’d better find it, Ridge!” she muttered, anger growing greater than her legitimate fear. She could handle mad. She had a harder time with scared.

“Oh, Father!” she prayed. “Did I make the greatest mistake of my life by coming? What am I going to do now?”