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stabilized for a moment and then went out altogether.

The thief cursed.

She heard a second voice at the doorway. “Come on. We got to hurry.”

“My flashlight went out, man.” The voice was Mr. Knife’s.

“Never mind. I have mine. Forget about those two for now. Let’s keep looking. We got to get out of here as soon as there is a break in the storm.”

“What if they have it already?”

After a long pause, Mr. Gun spoke up. “We’ll find them soon enough and deal with them whether they have the merchandise or not.”

Mr. Knife let out a heavy breath that sounded more like a groan. “Yeah, they’ll get what’s coming to them. No one horns in on our sweet deal.”

The words chilled Isabel to the bone. She remained still until she could no longer hear their footsteps. Jason had already rolled out from underneath the bench.

Her eyes had adjusted more to the darkness, and she could see actual plants, vegetables and orchids instead of just shadows and outlines. Her eyes landed on a book placed on a waist-high bench, probably a book about gardening. Why else would it be in here?

A memory clicked in her head. Books...out of place. “I picked up some books that were by the entryway table and put them back in the library on the fourth floor.” When she’d first arrived, she’d whirred through the house picking up, throwing away and straightening.

“That would be a good place to hide a bookmark,” he said. “Lead the way.”

They’d have to go through the house and take the main stairway to get to it.

As though he’d read her mind, Jason said, “Maybe I should lead the way.”

“Good idea.”

“Stay low and close to the wall,” he said.

They slipped out of the greenhouse and into the shadows. Isabel pressed close to Jason and listened for the sound of approaching assassins.

Jason scanned the open area on the main floor and then searched the darker corners for movement. He hated putting Isabel at risk like this, but the last time he’d left her alone, the man with the knife had taken her. The safest place for her in a house with armed men bent on killing them was right by his side.

It made sense that the bookmark was in some books on the entryway table. Hiding things in plain sight was the strategy of the courier who dropped off the stolen treasure.

Jason had taken footage through a window of a painting stolen from a European art gallery. The drop-off man had hung it among the much more amateur efforts of the homeowner. This information helped the FBI understand the mind of the man or woman who was engineering the smuggling. There had to be easier ways to smuggle valuables into the country. There must be a reason why the mastermind chose vacation homes.

The whole investigation was quite involved. Several other private investigators had been hired to watch unoccupied houses for activity. Usually, the Bureau would get wind of items being stolen in different parts of the world from US Customs or foreign governments, and then within a week or so, activity would pick up in Silver Strike.

Jason and Isabel hurried toward the stairs with Isabel taking the lead since she knew the layout of the house.

Light flashed at the end of the hallway.

Jason pressed against the wall and held out a protective hand toward Isabel. She stood close enough for her soft hair to brush under his chin. Her hand cupped his arm just above the elbow. Her touch sent a charge of electricity through him.

She was afraid, but brave enough to keep her cool.

The light disappeared into a room.

Isabel tugged on Jason’s sleeve and turned to take the stairs that led to the second floor.

The thieves had to know the bookmark was in a book. They must have found the library by now but clearly hadn’t found the bookmark. He hoped they weren’t walking into a trap.

He glanced over his shoulder. The light bobbed at the end of the hallway but didn’t reach them.

They raced up to the second-story landing, which was almost completely dark. They had only a short stairway to get up to the dome.

The pounding of footfalls behind them reached Jason’s ear. Then the cool metal of a knife blade pressed into his neck. He steeled himself against the attack, ready to fight back.

“Go,” he said to the darkness, hoping that Isabel would understand.

He could handle this guy but he didn’t want her hurt.

“Where is it?” said the thief. “We looked in the library.”

Jason elbowed the man in the stomach. The man backed away. In the darkness, Jason had to rely on his other senses to figure out where his opponent was. He was grateful for the years he’d spent studying martial arts.

He swung at the air, colliding with flesh. A hand gripped his wrist and yanked him around. His head rammed against a wall. Stunned, he whirled around and landed a blow that made the man groan. He hit the man’s back with a karate chop. The thief fell to the floor, making a cracking sound followed by another thud.

Jason braced himself for the man to jump to his feet and lay into him again, but he didn’t move. Jason kicked him. He must have hit his head against the banister. Jason leaned over. The man was still breathing but out cold.

He felt around for the knife but couldn’t find it, and he couldn’t waste any more time. The noise of the fight might have alerted the other man on the floor below and that guy had a flashlight and a gun.

Jason hurried down the hallway in the direction he’d heard Isabel’s footsteps retreating. When he felt for his phone in his shirt pocket it was gone. It must have fallen out in the fight. There was no time to search for it now. He reached out a hand to the textured wall to orient himself. Up ahead he saw light.

The whiteness of the overcast sky provided some illumination

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