Jack ate a few bites of his omelet. “And since the forest and cabin are ash now, we’re not going to find more answers there.”

He poured more coffee from the carafe the waitress had left.

“That could be why he set it on fire.” Terra set the donut aside after only a couple of bites, then started in on the eggs and bacon. “I still need to pay a visit to the museum. I read through the interview reports your people gathered. Have you learned anything else?”

“I think there’s a possible connection here that we’re overlooking,” he said.

“What’s that?”

He hesitated. Should he bring it up? Or wait for her to think of it on her own? He saw in her eyes that she had already thought of it, but she wasn’t willing to put that on the table. Should he just bide his time and only bring it up if it came to that? “Never mind.”

Terra’s hand shot across the table to grab his again, and he savored the softness of her skin. “Don’t do that. I want to know what you’re thinking. Don’t hold out on me.”

He sensed the desperation in her. The fear of losing the connection they’d found. “I’m not holding out, Terra.” He squeezed her hand. “You are.”

“What . . . what are you talking about?” She eased her hand from his grip.

He wanted to snatch it back. Instead, he toyed with his napkin and blew out a breath. They’d been walking a fine line—growing closer, maybe reaching across the distance their tumultuous past had created—and crossing that professional line in the midst of what was becoming a high-profile investigation.

Jack couldn’t deny he had feelings for this woman.

But this conversation could serve as the detonator to a possible future with her. Still, he wouldn’t hold back. “We both know what I’m talking about. I’m trying to catch a murderer here. Those murders are somehow linked to artifact trafficking. Unless we’re off track. I’m willing to look at all the possibilities. Are you?”

Terra closed her eyes for a few breaths, then opened them. “You’re talking about my brother who served in the Army in a Middle Eastern country. And his friend Leif. There are a lot of soldiers from Montana, a lot of veterans who make their home here, Jack. But I . . .”

“Yes?”

“Well, Saturday night I browsed through a few photographs. Not digital. Actual photographs that Owen had left out. Leif was in the photos with him.”

Terra shut her eyes again. When she opened them, she stared right through him. “Leif was wearing a nose ring in the picture.”

“You mean like the small black wire in Jim’s hand?”

“Exactly like it,” she said.