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put the box under her arm and went down the corridor toward the exit. Halfway there, she glanced to the left corridor where the Mitchell tube was located. If only Peter would agree to helping them shore it up and search there.
    She set the box on the floor and stepped into the branching corridor. The floor was uneven and damp. Rock crumbled from the sides. She knew it was unsafe, but she had a hunch about this tube. She walked alongthe narrowing tunnel as far as she could, though she began to feel claustrophobic as the ceiling lowered and the walls grew narrower. She heard a sound and froze. “Hello?” There was nothing to be frightened of. It was likely a worker who had forgotten something, or maybe even James.
    â€œPop? Are you there?” When there was no answer, she began to move again. She touched the dank walls at the dead end. Time to go back. Her dream was as boxed off as the end of this tunnel where the last rockfall had taken place two years ago.
    As she reached the main corridor, she heard another sound and started to turn. Something hit her out of nowhere. She saw a bright flash of stars, then darkness claimed her.
    Â 
    Jake bade farewell to the reporters then drove back out to the mine. He glowered at Cameron as he passed the other man in town. Cameron smiled back, a smirk that made Jake want to stop his SUV and pounce on him again. But he set his lips in a firm line and drove on. Cameron would lose the battle.
    Once in the parking lot of the Turtle Mine, he grabbed his cell phone and fished out his address book from his satchel in the tent. Kimball Washington should be done with classes by now. He punched in the number and pressed Send.
    Kimball’s gravelly voice answered. “Washington here.”
    â€œHey, Kimball, it’s Jake Baxter.”
    â€œJake! What are you up to these days? Great work you did on your last dig. I’ve been looking over your notes.”
    â€œI have something even more important I need you to help me with.”
    The African-American professor of paleontology had been Jake’s mentor ever since he took Kimball’s class his freshmen year at the University of Chicago. Jake relied on him in more ways than he could count. He explained the problem, and Kimball promised to come up to the island and have a look.
    Jake clicked off his phone with a decisive punch of his index finger. Take that, Cameron Reynolds . The media wouldn’t be able to ignore his find once the highly respected Kimball Washington had his say.
    If he could just find his missing eggs.
    Jake scowled again at the thought of Cameron’s perfidy. Those eggs were priceless. Where could he have stashed them?
    He went to his SUV, smiling as he noticed Skye’s truck. She was always so carefully put together, it seemed strange to think of her driving that dilapidated vehicle. She was a bundle of contradictions. Just like today when she’d jumped to his defense in spite of her own opposition to having the dig expanded.
    He should thank her.
    Jake paused at the door to his SUV, then shrugged and went to the mine entrance. The doorknob turned easily. She really should keep it locked when she was in there alone. While crime wasn’t a major problem onthe island, she was a young, beautiful woman alone in a remote place.
    He stepped into the mine. Lights had been strung up along the corridor, but the illumination didn’t push the gloom back very far. His throat closed. He didn’t like it here. It was too close, too tight.
    He’d gotten lost in some caves when he was ten, and he still didn’t like them. Luckily, most of his digs didn’t involve caves. He’d get back under the stars once he did his duty. “Skye? Where are you?”
    The steady drip of water nearby was the only sound in the shadowy corridor. It felt as if his nerves were on fire. Places like this made him clench his teeth and force himself not to run.
    Beginning to sweat in spite of the dank