I take a deep breath of the wood-scented air, the smell I associate with my dad, who hasn’t been home in months. His trips take him around the world, and he’s usually gone for long stretches of time, but it never gets any easier not having him here. Absently, I touch the writing on my shirt that says SHALOM IS WHERE THE HEART IS. It’s one of the many he’s brought me back over the years, and wearing them makes me feel closer to him.

I circle around to the desk, where my dad’s computer sits. Colin peers into the reflective glass of a small mirror pinned between two gold posts etched with Hebrew letters, then at a metallic replica of a pocket dragon, down to the iridescent scales.

It winks at him.

“I don’t even know how to begin searching for this,” I say, pulling out the drawing I did and entering my dad’s password (KUGEL, all caps). I try several searches in Google, starting by describing the pieces of the drawing, such as, “circle, specks, Jo C,” but it just spits back random results.

Colin joins me. “Maybe we need to figure out what the circle and dots are first?” he suggests. “Try Jo C tire repair.”

I do, and get an auto shop in downtown Wick, which I’m pretty sure is actually a front for a magical speakeasy with drinks that create illusions, if Kara is to be believed. Which honestly, she’s really not. But their logo doesn’t match the drawing at all.

“Jo C sprinklers?” he suggests.

On and on we go, trying every word we can think of to describe the dash marks and the loop, but nothing comes up to match the logo or name.

“I’m sorry, Colin,” I say when he leans defeatedly against the desk. “We’ll figure it out, but I have some other chores I have to do.”

“Maybe a break will help,” he says. “I might remember more of the logo.”

We leave my father’s office behind, joining the exodus of guests from the ballroom as brunch comes to a close.

“Are you still hungry after that?”

I look up at Mr. and Mrs. Andrade, both of whom are eyeing the drawing in my hand. When Colin and I only stare at them, Mrs. Andrade explains in her airy voice, “That’s the JoDoCo symbol. Jo’s Donut Company? They used to be a few doors down from the shelter, but they moved about a year ago.”

Colin and I exchange looks, and a shiver trickles down my spine. This means one of the men who killed Colin’s family was from Wick, which can’t be a coincidence.

Something bigger is at play here.

Chapter 7: Anna

“Was JoDoCo a magical shop?” I ask the Andrades once my mind stops spinning.

Mr. Andrade shakes his head. “All human, as far as I’m aware.”