After a sleepless night, Maggie stared at the laptop Jackson had placed on her kitchen counter. He sat on a bar stool next to her. She barely finished making morning coffee when he asked her to take a look at it.

  Hardly the thing she wanted to do before her first cup of coffee. She especially didn’t want to watch it over and over again for the last thirty minutes when Jackson kept hitting play, but she did want Scott’s killer found. Not only because his father deserved closure and the killer would be behind bars, but selfishly, it meant Jackson would return to Cold Harbor.

  Jackson. What was she going to do about him while he was still here?

  When she woke up and remembered he was on the couch, she peeked out just to be sure she hadn’t imagined him spending the night.

  He’d stood there staring out her picture window, his back to her. He wore a T-shirt that stretched across his wide shoulders, and without a belt, his pants hung low on his hips. He turned to look at her, issued a sleepy good morning, and ran a lazy gaze over her. Her heart started galloping like a champion racehorse, and she mumbled good morning before ducking behind the door to catch her breath.

  She knew she shouldn’t be responding to him. Shouldn’t be interested in him. And yet, before bed last night, she’d looked up Cold Harbor on the Internet and learned that it was located on the southern Oregon coast. A small city, it wasn’t the kind of place where she envisioned Jackson settling down. But time changed people, and he must be far different than the younger guy who wanted to travel the world.

  He still had the same smile, though. The same way of looking at her. The same draw. The same amazing body. She saw that firsthand this morning.

  Argh. Stop already. Focus on the video.

  “Let’s look at this one more time.” He stretched out his long index finger and tapped the play button, his arm brushing her side

  She jerked away, earning a surprised look from him. She ignored it and squarely focused on the short clip. It was odd to watch herself pull open the door, the strap to her briefcase slung over her shoulder. She bumped into a man, his head down, hood up, even though the video was filmed in June. She couldn’t make out his features, but she paused to stare after him and say something. His only response was to keep on moving.

  “Do you remember what you were saying there?” Jackson asked.

  She shook her head. “I was probably telling him his manners were appalling.”

  Jackson grinned. “I could totally see you doing that.”

  “You could?”

  “Yeah, I mean you had the best manners. Probably still do. Just like your dad. He was so polite. Proper. I felt like a big bozo around him.”

  “You never said anything.”

  “It was my problem, not his or yours. You are who you are. I am who I am. I just wished at times I was more like your dad. If so I wouldn’t have…” He shook his head. “Sorry, you don’t want to talk about our past.”

  Honestly, in less than a day she was leaning toward wanting to discuss it with him. “Even if I don’t, your team should be here any minute, and you don’t want to get into that now.”

  “True that.” He stopped the video. “Okay, so we know this guy is the correct build for the man you talked to at Summit last night.”

  “Yes, though honestly, everything is so average about that guy, a lot of other guys will fit his build, too.”

  “We’re not concerned about other guys, just the person in this video.”

  “It still seems like the odds of finding him are pretty low.”

  “If you can get a good sketch made this morning that will go a long way in helping.”

  She didn’t like the incredible pressure that put on her, but she would do her best.

  The doorbell rang, and she jumped.

  He patted her hand. “Relax. Like you said, it’s the team.”

  He closed the computer and headed for the entry. She got up and prepared herself to meet this group. Jackson told her enough about them this morning that she felt as if she already knew them. Still, she wasn’t prepared for their entrance. They swept into the kitchen like hurricane force winds, and Jackson quickly introduced the trio.

  Riley, Eryn, and Alex were physically strong. Intense. Intimidating. Even Eryn, who was two inches shorter than Maggie, could obviously take her down in a flash. A good thing for her job, Maggie supposed, but when Jackson had told her one of the team members was a woman, Maggie hoped she’d have something in common with her, and it would make the whole bodyguard thing more palatable. But she was already intimidated by the woman’s obvious physical strength.

  “Anyone want breakfast?” she asked, needing to get out from under their intense scrutiny. “I’d be glad to scramble some eggs.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Alex gave her a big grin.

  “I’m in,” Riley said.

  Eryn smiled, her chocolate brown eyes creasing. “I could eat.”

  Jackson eyed Maggie. He knew she was running from them, but she didn’t care if he figured it out. She felt compelled to do something, so she busied herself at the stove and sink. First she squeezed fresh orange juice and placed the pitcher along with glasses on the island where the team settled onto stools.

  Jackson picked up the pitcher and started pouring. “Maggie’s like this amazing cook. We better put this investigation to bed soon, or we’re all going to gain weight.”

  Maggie wanted to comment on the way he talked about her in such a personal way, but she wasn’t about to bring that up in front of the team. Instead, as they discussed her protection, she made toast and alternated with sloshing the eggs around in the pan and putting out silverware, napkins, butter, and homemade raspberry jelly.

  When the eggs were fluffy and perfect, she plated them, then added toast. She turned to distribute the plates and found Jackson behind her holding out his hands. She let him take the plates, and he passed them to Eryn and Alex. Maggie handed another one to Riley and jabbed one in Jackson’s hand, pushing at him and encouraging him to go sit on the far side of the island. He didn’t take the hint but set the plate down nearby. He, along with the three amigos—as she was choosing to think of Jackson’s teammates—prayed and dug right in.

  “I appreciate the food.” Eryn held a fork filled with egg near her mouth. “But don’t think you need to feed us while we’re here.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Alex smiled as he spread jelly on his toast.

  Maggie returned his smile. She only had to listen in on the team’s conversation while she cooked to figure out that he loved to joke around. Eryn seemed to be the one who listened carefully and made sure everyone’s point of view was heard. Maggie hadn’t gotten a good read on Riley yet.

  And Jackson? He was still blunt and told the truth even when it was hard to hear. Case in point, last night when much of what they discussed was difficult to bring up. That seemed to be the baton he carried with the group, too.

  She gestured again for Jackson to join his teammates, but he remained by her side. She had to admit she was still succumbing to that attraction. It might even be stronger because of the years away from him, but she wouldn’t give into her feelings, and that meant putting distance between them at all times.

  She took her plate and coffee cup and sat next to Riley. He smiled at her, his slate blue eyes lighting up. Why couldn’t she feel some sort of attraction to him? Or to Alex? Maybe then she could forget about Jackson’s gaze that remained pointedly locked on her.

  He glanced at his watch. “Sketch artist should be here soon.”

  Maggie nodded, her mind going to the task. She would have to recall in detail the man who likely attacked her, and now her breakfast felt like a hockey puck in her stomach.

  “While you work with him, we’ll have a look around the exterior of your house to formulate a security plan,” Jackson continued, not seeming to notice her rising anxiety.

  This was her home he was talking about. Her sanctuary. The place she was born and raised in. Her roots. She really didn’t want to think that she wasn’t safe in her own home.

  Riley took a long sip of his coffee. “After that, you’ll be heading to the morgue, right?”

  She nodded.

  Alex looked at Jackson. “You want help on that trip?”

  Jackson shook his head. “I’d rather have the three of you assess the Summit neighborhood before Maggie goes back there.”

  Eryn set down her slice of toast and met Maggie’s gaze. “How late in the day do you plan to work at Summit?”

  “As long as there’s daylight.”

  Jackson dropped his fork to his plate with a clank. “Any way I can convince you to leave before the sun sets?”

  She stared at him pointedly. “I’m already losing precious time on the sketch and the morgue trip. I hate to waste even more of the day and drag out this recovery. Not with families waiting for news.”

  “It would be far easier for us to protect you if you would cut out a bit early,” Eryn added.

  Maggie wanted to stick to her guns, but she couldn’t very well do so now. Not when she could make things easier for these people who were voluntarily making sure she didn’t come to any harm. “What say we leave a half hour before sunset. Will that work?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Eryn smiled. Her face came alive with it, lifting high cheekbones that most women would love to have. She possessed this amazing strength, and yet her long, silky black hair and riveting dark eyes, gave her a feminine look at the same time

  The doorbell rang, and Maggie got up to answer.

  Jackson held up his hand. “Let me get the door.”

  “It’s probably just the sketch artist.”

  “I know, but we have to be cautious.”

  Jackson headed for the door. On the way, he nodded at Riley who got up and went to the entrance. He wore a gun in a holster at his side. All the team members did, but Riley snapped off a safety strap and planted his feet wide as if he were a human shield.

  Alex and Eryn remained seated but swiveled to face the door. Their intensity ratcheted up—if that was even possible—and left Maggie feeling breathless. Her anxiety rising, she couldn’t just sit there. She started to get up to put a beef roast in the crock-pot so there’d be barbequed beef for sandwiches when they got home for dinner.

  Eryn shook her head. “Stay put, please.”

  These guys were serious, very serious, and Maggie’s heart started hammering as she dropped back onto the stool and kept her focus on the entryway. She heard the door open, Jackson talking, and a man responding. Footsteps came their way. She knew in her heart that Jackson wouldn’t lead her attacker in her direction, and this must indeed be the sketch artist, but now her heart was beating so hard she couldn’t relax at all.

  Jackson rounded the corner. A thin guy with a bald head wearing jeans and a navy T-shirt followed behind. He carried a leather satchel and small wooden easel.

  “This is Bobby Evers,” Jackson said and introduced everyone.

  Bobby’s focus zoned in on Maggie. “Where would you like to set up?”

  “The family room, I guess.” She pushed off the stool and wasn’t surprised her leg muscles were wobbly. “Would you like some coffee or juice?”

  He patted his bag. “Brought my morning shake with me.”

  “Then follow me.” She led the way to the family room and dropped onto the sofa before anyone noticed how unsteady the scare had left her. If she was going to survive this ordeal with a minimum of stress, she had to figure out a way to control her emotions.

  Once upon a time, trusting God had helped. But since losing Alison, her talks with God were more about questions that she received no answers for, than about trusting Him to protect and help her.

  Too many things had gone wrong in the past few years, and she lost the faith like a child that she once possessed. She didn’t want to admit to this failure of faith, but there it was, and she couldn’t deny it any longer.

  Bobby unfolded his easel consisting of two boards hinged together with metal clips. It looked more like a wooden portfolio than an easel. He clipped a sheet of filmy paper on the right side, but nothing on the left. He selected a few pencils from his bag, grabbed a dark green sludge-looking drink, and sat across from her, resting the board on his lap.

  He took a sip of the green glop. “Go ahead and describe this man.”

  As memories came flooding back, she fidgeted with her fingers. “He was…I don’t…I mean…”

  “Relax.” Bobby’s smile widened, and he set down the drink. “Try to forget what this man did to you. Just isolate his face in your mind and give me the details. It might help to close your eyes.”

  Right. Easy for him to say. Still, she let her lids close and concentrated on last night’s conversation.

  “What nationality was he?”

  “Um…Caucasian, I think.”

  “What shape is his face? Bobby asked.

  “Round. And he had a beard. It was thick.”

  “Color?”

  “Dark brown. Almost black. Neatly trimmed. Maybe an inch long.” She heard his pencil scratching over the paper and paused to let him catch up.

  “What about his eyes?” he asked.

  “He wore glasses. Wire rimmed. Oval. He had a professor kind of vibe or maybe a serious student.”

  “Good. Good.” His pencil scratched frantically. “What color were his eyes?”

  “I don’t know. It was too dark. The same for his hair. The hood of his sweatshirt was up.” She sighed and opened her eyes. “I trusted him. Not at first, but when he explained who he was.” She shook her head. “How dumb was that? I was like out in nowhere. A strange man approached me, and I trusted him. If I hadn’t, maybe I could have protected myself. Called 911. Done something so he wasn’t still out there wanting to hurt me.”

  The thought of him coming to her house, maybe to the morgue or the neighborhood again, sent a tremor snaking through her body.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you.” Bobby’s pencil stilled, and he looked up. “Try to clear that from your mind, though. Just focus on the physical features. Like you’re simply standing back and observing someone. Maybe you can describe his nose.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes again. Clear everything out. Check. Focus on that face so he can be caught. Check. She let her mind go and recounted every detail she could remember.

  Mentally exhausted, she lay back against the sofa and stared at the wood ceiling. She wished her dad was here. She missed him so badly. Her mom had been gone since Maggie’s high school years, but the ache in her heart never went away, the pain so reminiscent of losing Alison.

  Tears pricked Maggie’s eyes. She willed them away and curled her fingers into a tight ball.

  “Done,” Bobby announced. “Take a look at this and let me know if it’s accurate.”

  She sat forward, and he held out the paper.

  She took a quick look. “No. No. That’s not him.”

  “No worries.” He smiled. “It’s rare to get it right the first time. What seems to be wrong?”

  “The shape of his eyes, I think.”

  Bobby took a booklet from his backpack, flipped it open, and handed it to her. “This is the FBI's Facial Identification Catalog. Try to find similar eyes in one of these pictures.”

  She studied the many faces on each page and finally saw a pair of eyes very like her attacker’s. She pointed at the picture. “But his were a bit narrower. And so is his nose. Narrower than the picture you drew, that is.”

  Bobby erased and started sketching again. Maggie waited patiently and felt a yawn coming on. Despite the overwhelming fatigue from the adrenaline crash as Jackson predicted last night, she didn’t sleep much. And recalling the man who’d attacked her was emotionally taxing, adding to her tiredness. She had important work to do today and couldn’t let the weariness get to her. On top of that, she needed to be alert for danger, too.

  Man, that was just crazy. Someone wanted to kill her. Really kill her.

  “Okay, look at this.” Bobby turned the board around.

  She took one look at the paper, and her breath whooshed from her body. “Yes. That’s him. That’s the man from last night. My attacker.”

  Jackson stretched to work out the kinks in his muscles from sleeping on a too-small sofa and took a long look around Maggie’s front yard. As he suspected last night, the pines were grouped as thick as a forest, providing far too many spots for an attacker to take cover. The trees also lined the drive winding up the mountain. Normally, Jackson would expect that the aerial view of the property that Riley was recording with their drone would help them formulate a strong plan. But in this case, Jackson thought aerial footage would simply display a forest encircling the small clearing holding Maggie’s house.

  That meant his visual inspection was more important than ever. He looked up at Maggie’s front porch.

  “I don’t much like the overgrown shrubs around the foundation,” he said to Alex.

  He turned to face Jackson. “You still in love with her?”

  Jackson shot him a look. “Who said I ever was?”

  “C’mon, man. It’s as plain as that ugly nose on your face.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “Not something I’m going to talk about.”

  “When did the two of you date?”

  “Said I wasn’t going to talk about it.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t say I’d quit asking.” Alex grinned and ran a hand through his hair. Of all the team members, he was the one who cared most about his looks. He had naturally curly hair, but used gel to tame it into submission and wore it spiked in the middle.

  Jackson continued walking the perimeter and hoped that Alex would give up, but he was like a pit bull, and barring something else gaining his interest, he would keep trying to get details. They rounded the far corner of the house to discover a view overlooking the smoky valley covered in tall pines.

  He headed for the back edge of the property, ambling down the incline that led to a large level back yard. A contemporary metal-and-wire cable fence sat at the rear of the property where the ground dropped off sharply. A large seating area with plush chairs was located near the fence. He stepped across the pavers and checked out the steep cliff.