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the same mettle her mother had.

But thinking about her fears wouldn’t help her investigation, so she set her cell phone on the side table and concentrated on her laptop.

Time to research. Savvier computer techs could dive deeper than Terra was able to, including finding their way around the dark web, but in her last go-around with illegal archaeological digs and trafficking, the criminals had sold items online on the “legal” Internet. Given the current climate of crackdowns on artifact trafficking, one would think those seeking to sell illegal items online would be few and far between, but the reverse was true. Most pieces found online were either fake—not an artifact at all—or had been looted.

Terra started on eBay, but experienced traffickers would know better. The first items to pop up on her screen were labeled as Mayan artifacts, supposedly “ancient and authentic” with paperwork obtained legally by the original owner declaring a provenance through an estate sale. Terra scratched her head.

Could be true.

Probably wasn’t.

The laws were decidedly complex, and the potential to sell illegal items online was dangerous but infinite. Terra had been told there had been an increase in this kind of activity on the web, with as many as, if not more than, a hundred thousand antiquities being sold online.

Snatching up her cell from the side table, she stared at her contacts. Besides Jeremy Brand, she had other connections. She could pay a visit to Joey DeMarco, who was still serving time in prison in Colorado. She doubted he would be willing to talk to her, much less give her additional information or names—but the guy was in deep. He’d been willing to negotiate, give up more names in return for a lighter sentence, even though the sentence was light to begin with. That was the downside of trafficking—the money was often worth the risk and a few months or years in jail.

But Terra had a plan. She’d befriended Joey’s mother, who was heartbroken to learn what Joey had been doing right under her nose in her own home. The woman had been suffering with a debilitating disease, and Joey had cared for her. Mrs. DeMarco would want her son to cooperate.

She had thought her son was a simple collector of modern art. He attended antique shows and made his connections that way.

That was just it—Jim wasn’t only a collector or he would have displayed items in his home. But she had seen no art in his home. Instead, he had wanted to keep this part of his life a secret.

And that secret had killed him.

Who were you working with, Jim?

The credits for the movie she hadn’t watched scrolled across the TV. A couple of hours of searching online auction houses and the like hadn’t led her to the Native American headdress she’d seen at the cabin. She was going about this all wrong—but she had to try. Terra’s eyelids finally grew heavy, and she closed her laptop.

She stood, ignoring the sensation of being watched. It had to be because of the eyes belonging to her great-greats in that old photograph. Time to turn off the lights and TV and go to bed.

Terra reached for the remote. Before she touched it, the television screen turned black. Lights flickered off, shrouding her in darkness.

NINETEEN

Jack knew that Terra would never have agreed to this. Better to sit outside and watch over the house and Terra. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Maybe he was overreacting. Watching over her wasn’t his job. She was a trained law officer.

Jack had tried to ignore his gut, so he’d gone home to check on Aunt Nadine. She was safe and sound. Maybe Terra didn’t need his help, but he couldn’t sleep with the sense that something was wrong gnawing at the back of his mind.

So, he’d parked his vehicle off the beaten path to watch over her. He could see anyone coming and going, that is, if they used the remote drive into the small valley. And now he was glad he’d listened to his instincts.

The security light had gone off at the same time as the lights in the house.

Darkness engulfed him. Clouds hid the moon at the moment.

Jack shifted in his seat.

He texted Terra.

Are you okay? Saw the lights go out.

Then he grabbed a flashlight and his 9mm and climbed from his vehicle. He wouldn’t wait for her response to take action.

God, please let her respond. Please let his gut be completely wrong. He’d prefer paranoia to actually being right.

He flipped on his flashlight so he could see where he was going as he continued toward the house. In the distance, horses whinnied from inside the stables. Outside the stables, the security lights were on. Unfortunately, Jack’s cell didn’t buzz with a reply from Terra. The muscles in his shoulders grew taut.

At the front door he rang the bell and pounded. “Terra, it’s me! Are you okay in there?”

Sweat bloomed on his hands. How long should he wait for her to answer? She could be in real trouble. Instead of waiting, he opted to check the perimeter. Someone could have disabled the alarm and found a way in. He hoped she wouldn’t think he was the intruder and shoot him.

He sloshed through mud along the bushes next to the house. That sixth sense that had warned him something was wrong grew stronger.

God, please let Terra be okay. Let her be aware and alert.

He couldn’t handle something happening to her.

At the back of the house, he continued to check the windows and looked for irregularities. He needed to work quickly. After Terra had spent years trying to persuade him to do so, her grandfather installed a security camera. He grew up in a time when no one needed to lock their doors, especially living in the country in Montana, much less install security alarms.

Why had someone followed Terra tonight to begin with? Did it have to do with their investigation, or was it something entirely different?

He crept around where

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