Max stared at her, his face sad. “I followed you to Australia, Callie. But you’d already left Sydney by the time I got there, and I couldn’t track you after that.”

“You followed me?” Shock held her immobile for several seconds. “Why?” she finally demanded.

“Because there are things I need to know, stuff we have to talk about.” His lips tightened to a thin, angry line at the shake of her head. “What?”

“I don’t want to talk about the past. Not ever again.” She turned away but his words stopped her.

“Well, I do. I need to know the truth, Callie. And you’re going to tell it to me. When I’m satisfied I know everything, then and only then will I send you off with those divorce papers you’re so anxious to file.”

Despite the blazing September sun and the protection of the cabin, Callie felt an icy breeze across her nerves.

Max could never know the truth. Never.

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LOIS RICHER

Sneaking a flashlight under the blankets, hiding in a thicket of Caragana bushes where no one could see, pushing books into socks to take to camp—those are just some of the things Lois Richer freely admits to in her pursuit of the written word. “I’m a bookaholic. I can’t do without stories,” she confesses. “It’s always been that way.”

Lois Richer
Identity:
Undercover

You have seen me tossing and turning through the night. You have collected all my tears and preserved them in a bottle! You have recorded every one in your book…This one thing I know: God is for me!

—Psalms 56:8, 9b

This book is gratefully dedicated to those who

keep our countries safe, who stand at the entrance

of freedom and say, “I will lay down my life to

preserve you.” May we never fail them.

Dear Reader,

Hello there! Welcome back to Finders, Inc.

Secrets are funny things, aren’t they? Some are good—like Christmas secrets. And some can really drag you down, prevent you from living a full, rich life that shows the world your true colors. Callie’s secret forced her to live in fear and shame for many years, until she realized that God had already forgiven her. But that forgiveness wasn’t effective until she finally forgave herself.

I hope you’ll trust the God who loves you with your secret. I pray you’ll dig until you find His perfect peace, His joy unspeakable, His hope for you. Most of all, I pray you’ll experience His love—beyond measure, beyond understanding, beyond description.

Blessings to you, friend.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

PROLOGUE

This above all—to thine own self be true.

—William Shakespeare

Ten years ago

The courtroom brimmed with reporters, all present to record every sordid detail they could glean about the ambassador’s daughter and her sad little tale.

Callie Merton took a deep breath, forced herself to walk calmly to the front of the room. Marie Antoinette going to the guillotine, that’s who she’d pretend to be.

She took the oath, sat down, faced straight ahead. Using every morsel of control she could scrounge, she answered the questions clearly and concisely, remembering the prosecutor’s advice to keep it short and simple.

“The man who gave you the drugs—do you see him in the courtroom today?”

“Yes.”

“Would you point to that person?”

She lifted her hand, aimed one finger. “That’s him.”

A rumble of whispers rippled through the audience.

“Let the record show that the witness has identified the defendant.”

There were more questions. Lots of them. Horrible, probing questions that left no tawdry point hidden. Clinging to her icy mantle of aloofness, Callie refused to be swayed.

At last she was released. Holding her head high, she stepped down, toward the man she’d accused. Every nerve in her body pulled taut in tense anticipation as she neared the place where he sat, the place she had to pass to get out of this room, away from the prying eyes.

She’d almost passed him when his voice, whisper-soft but brimming with menace, reached her.

“You’ll pay for this. No matter how long it takes, you’ll pay.”

Callie kept walking, down the long aisle, past the photographers with their whirring cameras, out of the building. Fifteen granite steps got her to the street level. From there it was a short dash to her car. Only when she was inside with the doors locked did she fill her lungs with a deep breath.

Then Callie drove as far and as fast as she dared. When she finally stopped running, she was on a ferry that would take her to the city of Victoria, British Columbia.

By then she’d left Marie Antoinette far behind, had turned into someone else, a gutsy young woman who didn’t live in fear but took on the next phase of her life with dignity and pride. One who accepted challenges as a way to prove she’d changed.

But that woman was a charade.

And every so often a voice from the past would whisper through her head reminding her that the real Callie Merton had gone undercover.

ONE

Present Day

“We have a mission for you, Callie.”

The owner of Finders Inc. had a reputation for directness. Callie met Shelby Kincaid-Austen’s scrutiny head-on and forced herself not to flinch at the flicker of compassion she glimpsed in the other woman’s eyes.

“Great. I was hoping you’d have something for me.” Since Shelby didn’t ask about the time she’d taken off, Callie allowed herself to relax just a little.

“I’m assuming you have no preference about location?”

“As long as it’s not Australia again. I’m really tired of the Outback, mate.”

“I’m sorry that one took so long.” Shelby nodded, but her face remained neutral. “I only agreed to assign it to you because you said you needed something that would keep you out of the country for a while.”

Callie noted Shelby’s pause, meant to allow her the opportunity to discuss what had happened to cause that request. Callie remained silent, unmoving. After a moment Shelby shrugged, continued.

“You’re one of the best locators we have so this assignment shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“None of them start out that way.” Callie leaned forward. “What should I know?”

“Finders Inc. has been hired to locate a man named Josiah Harpnell as quickly as we can. He’s the recipient of a substantial legacy. There are certain papers that require his signature—legal technicalities but necessary nonetheless. Though several messages have been forwarded to Mr. Harpnell’s last known address, he has not responded to any of them.”

“Messages—so you didn’t talk to him? I’m guessing that means he has no access to a phone. Any idea where he is now?”

“Alaska.”

“Well, that’s pinpointing it.” Callie grimaced. “From the front burner of the Outback to the freezer of Alaska. What more could a girl want?”

Quite a lot, actually. But since it was highly unlikely she’d ever get back the one thing she longed for, Callie focused on business and Shelby.

“I know it’s not much to go on. It’s a big area and our Intel is sketchy at best.”

“I’m listening.”

Shelby leaned her elbows on her desk, tented her fingers.

“From what we understand, Mr. Harpnell lives in the wilds, off the land—by choice. The last mailing address we had for him is in Ketchikan but his current physical location isn’t certain and you may need to change destinations along the way. If you can be ready in two days, I’ll arrange passage for you. A friend of mine is cruising up the coast and has agreed to take you.”

“Sail?” That was new.

“I’ll explain in a minute but let me say now that your journey north will give us time to update our information. Tomorrow you can visit the estate, learn exactly what’s at stake.”

Late September hardly seemed the time to sail north, though Callie suddenly remembered Max had once said sailing the Inside Passage in the fall was—

Like a shutter she clicked those thoughts out of her mind.

“What else?”

“I can’t tell you much more until research has finished their part. Once you’re in Ketchikan, you’ll be in a better position to decide the next step for yourself. The important thing is to find this man and get his signature on the documents.”

It sounded fairly straightforward. Callie nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“You may need some kind of cover story. I’d thought perhaps you could start out as if you’re a tourist, maybe an Aussie backpacker. You’ve picked up the accent like a native, better than anyone I’ve ever seen, so you should be able to ask a lot of questions about the area without being suspect.”

“If this Harpnell fellow isn’t there, you want me to keep following the trail, right?”

“It’s urgent that we locate him, Callie, and soon. If something should happen to him before the papers are signed, since he has no legal heir, the government will take over his estate. A lot of historical artifacts in that house will be sold off for a pittance.”

“Okay.”

Shelby stared at the file in her hand, then lifted her gaze to center on Callie.

“Understand that Harpnell doesn’t have to come back. Once the paperwork is in place, he can assign someone to look after things or dispose of them as he wishes. Apparently that’s what his half brother intended. He’s the one who left him the place and everything in it.”

“Is there a Mrs. Harpnell?”

“Josiah was married briefly many years ago but they divorced a year later. She had a child from an earlier marriage but Josiah never adopted him so the child has no legal standing with the courts as far as we know.”

“Okay.” Callie rose, grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “I’ll get down to the briefing room and take a look at the file. The estate info is in it?”

“All the details we have are there. There’s just one more thing.” Shelby’s voice brimmed with warning. “We have reason to believe that someone else knows about this inheritance and that they will make an attempt to somehow acquire it. You could experience some danger. Briefing will relate the problems two other agencies have experienced so far, but I’ll tell you this, there have been several unusual occurrences.”

Callie understood what she meant. Someone was trying to upset the apple cart. Money did that to people.

“That’s why you want your friend to get me up there via sailboat, I’m assuming.”

“Yes.” Shelby nodded, her expression serious. “Ordinarily we’d attempt to get his signature by mail, but that’s already been tried—and failed. Miserably. These problems are the reason we need you to hand carry the necessary documents and bring them back. As a notary you’re licensed to witness Mr. Harpnell’s signature, which will satisfy the legal requirements. That’s another reason why I chose you.”

“Okay.”

“We want those documents back here as soon as possible so we can file them with the court, Callie.”

“Why the rush?” she mused aloud. “There’s no time limit is there?”

Daniel McCullough, CEO of Finders Inc., shoved open Shelby’s door and stepped into the room, his smile huge.

“About time you got back to this country, kiddo.” He wrapped Callie in a bear hug, then tapped the end of her nose before grinning at Shelby. “I heard the last question—let me answer.” He turned back to Callie.

“Before the case was brought to our attention, the lawyers tried several other locators—with no success. In fact, several people were hurt in the process. They came to us because of our reputation for completing every case, and because time is running out. We must have the papers signed within two weeks, or the government becomes the administrator of the estate to dispose of at its discretion.”

“And you don’t think they’re up to it or what?” The inflection in Daniel’s voice told Callie the story was not complete.

“Let us just say we’ve learned that the person who would be handling this estate as the government’s representative has been approached to disperse the historical and very rare artifacts to purchasers who have no interest in preserving our country’s heritage.”

“Not only would that be a great loss,” Shelby added, “but it goes against everything the owner of the estate wanted, and that’s not even mentioning that the money would be wasted. The estate is quite large as you’ll see when you visit it. Management fees would eat it up.”

“Okay, then. Good to know.” Callie turned to leave. “I’ll get to work on Josiah’s background.”

“In a minute.”

The worry threading through Shelby’s voice drew her attention. She faced the other woman, schooling her features to conceal any emotion. She was good at that.

“I’m worried about you, Callie. You’re so thin and pale. You’re sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure. And I’m fine. See you.” Callie walked out of Shelby’s office and found Daniel had followed her. He matched his step to hers.

“I wouldn’t say you look good, Callie, but you look better than the last time you were in.”

“So do you.” She tilted her head, winked. “Three months of marriage must agree with you. I hear Samantha turned down a promotion. She’s got to be really happy being your wife to willingly give up her dream job.”

“I hope she’s happy.” Daniel’s cheeks darkened in embarrassment. “But turning down that promotion was totally her choice. I won’t say I’m not glad, though. We never expected to start a family so soon after we married—we especially didn’t expect to parent twins—but we’re both glad about it.”

“Twins?” Callie grinned, delighted that the couple had been so blessed, though a little hidden nerve in her heart renewed its persistent throb.

“Sam says she’s had enough fieldwork for a while. She comes into the office to help with training but that will probably end in a few months. She’s already finding the pregnancy very tiring.” He paused, stopped Callie from entering the elevator by placing his hand on her wrist. His eyes darkened, grew sad. “I’m sorry if I’m hurting you by telling you this, Callie.”

“Of course you’re not hurting me. I’m happy for you both.” She smiled to show she meant it, shielding the ache she was afraid would never go away.

“Thank you.” But the question remained in his eyes.

“Look, Daniel, things happen, change. That’s the way life is. I really am happy for both of you.” She met his stare and held it, knowing he’d see beyond her mask if she let him. “Bad things happened, but I have to get on with living. This case will give me the perfect opportunity to start over.”

“I guess. If that’s what you want.” His amber eyes peered through the black-rimmed glasses, a reprimand lurking in their depths. “You do know Max has contacted me. Several times. I told him what you said, but I felt like a heel doing it.” He touched her arm. “You have to talk to him yourself, Callie.”

“We did talk. Too much.” She shook her head. “I don’t have anything to say that Max Chambers wants to hear. Anyway, it’s too late for talking. The past is over, finished.”

“Who are you trying to convince, sweetie? Me, or you?” Daniel bent, brushed her cheek with a brotherly kiss. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Keep depending on God. He’ll work it out.”

“Yeah.” Like God had done so much for her already. Callie reached up and hugged him. “That’s for you to pass on to Sam. Tell her—tell her to take care. And that I love her.”

“I will.” He stood watching as she stepped into the elevator, a frown disturbing his handsome features.

Well, why wouldn’t he frown? He and Max had been good friends. And she’d come between them.

Memories of that painful era threatened to burst through Callie’s fragile defenses and explode her thinly held self-control. Her defenses weren’t quite as strong as she wanted. Yet.

Determined no one would see her weaken, she stepped out of the elevator and slipped into a nearby ladies’ room where she splashed cold water on her face until she’d regained her composure. Once she was centered and in control again she made her way to the briefing room.

After absorbing a minutiae of details about Josiah Harpnell, Callie glanced up from her file, found Daniel lounging in the doorway, watching her.

“Well?”

“About what I expected. The estate is massive. Less detail on Josiah than usual, but then this case is different for Finders Inc., isn’t it?”

“Every case is different, but we usually have more to go on than what we’ve been able to give you.” He sank down onto a stool opposite her. “Callie, I have to tell Max something. He’s just called again, desperate to get in touch with you.”

And she knew exactly why.

“Maybe you don’t believe me but he’s out of his mind with worry, Callie. He cares about you.”

She couldn’t say anything, simply sat staring at her hands, waiting.

“He’s my friend, honey. Max is the closest thing I’ve had to a brother since Grant died.” His voice begged her to reconsider. “I can’t be your go-between anymore. I’ve got to tell him the truth. The two of you need to talk this out.”

Daniel didn’t know it but there was nothing for them to talk about. He wouldn’t understand that Max was only trying to do the right thing, to adhere to those principles he clung to so strongly. Daniel wouldn’t understand that she couldn’t bear to go back, to look into those eyes and see what lay there—the condemnation he never spoke of.

“Please, Callie. Just see him, let him know you’re all right.”

It was unavoidable and she knew it. The one last thing she had to do before the past was finally over, irrevocably finished.

“When do I ship out?” she whispered.

“Day after tomorrow, 7:00 a.m.”

“Fine. I’ll check out Josiah Harpnell’s estate tomorrow. You tell Max I’ll meet him at the Harbor Café at six-thirty the following morning.”

“I’ll tell him right away.” Daniel’s face beamed. “Thank you, Callie. I promise you won’t regret it.” He rose, turned to leave.

“There’s just one catch.”

Daniel froze, twisted to stare at her, a frown marring his thin face.

“After that it’s over. No more phone calls, no more contacting you about me, nothing.”

Daniel opened his mouth to protest but Callie held up a hand.

“I appreciate all you’ve tried to do, Daniel, but my marriage to Max is over. Those are my terms. If he’s there, I’ll know he accepts them. If he’s not, fine. The choice is up to him.”

While Daniel was still speechless, she gathered up her things, shoved them into her backpack and left the room, the building, to return to the small bleak square that now served as home base.

It was a good thing Shelby had assigned this mission. Otherwise Callie knew there would be little point to the rest of her life.

Someone was watching her.

Callie could feel the burn right through her windbreaker to the back of her neck. But no matter how closely she scrutinized the area, it was impossible to see exactly who it was.

The same thing had happened the day before when she’d visited the estate Josiah would inherit. Whoever it was knew how to keep a low profile.

Truthfully, she’d expected someone to take an interest in her appearance there. Finders already knew someone didn’t want Josiah gaining control of the estate. What they didn’t know was why.

But she’d find out. She always did. And maybe in the meantime she’d discover why they had followed her.

Callie glanced at her watch for the thousandth time and finally admitted what her brain didn’t want to accept.

Max wasn’t coming.

The knowledge burned a hole straight to her heart, but she ignored the pain, paid for her coffee and left the restaurant. As she rounded the corner and moved toward the craft that would transport her to Ketchikan, she had to sidestep a crowd.

Callie wove her way among the group of curious bystanders and fought to get a better look through the throng of shoulders and heads. What she saw made her gasp: four trim, elegant offshore cruisers still tied to the dock lay listing to the west, badly damaged and taking on water faster than it could be bailed out.

“What happened?” she asked the person beside her.

“Problems with the ferry,” he said. “Should never have come near those boats. Must have been something mechanical that made it veer so close. The captain did some very snappy maneuvering to get it docked but not before it scraped those four beauties. The repair bills are going to be astronomical.”

He was right. Even from this distance she could see that repairs to The Marguerite, her ride, were going to take a lot longer than a few hours. Farther down the dock one of the B.C. ferries lay battered and bruised, but securely tied in place.

Callie pulled out her cell phone to tell Shelby she was going to take the ferry to Ketchikan, but paused in the middle of dialing as she caught a fragment of the conversation nearby.

“The ferry’s out of service till the investigation’s complete,” she heard someone behind her grumble. “They say they can’t get a replacement here till late tonight.”

Callie snapped her phone closed, walked away from the mess as she tried to figure out her next move.

“Callie?”

It wasn’t the hand on her arm that made her freeze, it was the voice. Totally devoid of all the assurance Max Chambers’s firm tones had once boasted, his low utterance now sounded hesitant, unsure, as if he was afraid to talk to her. She turned, faced him, and wondered if it had been his eyes she’d felt watching her.

“You’re late.”

It wasn’t the best thing she could have said, but Callie was furious that he’d shown up now, after she’d shoved away hope and the past and begun to concentrate on her job.

“I’m sorry. There’s road construction everywhere. I got caught in a detour. I couldn’t help it.” His eyes—shimmers of dark green with flecks of seafoam, held hers for just an instant before he took in the scene. “What happened here?”

“A ferry hit some boats.” She moved her arm so his hand fell away. “I can’t talk to you now, Max. I’m on assignment. I’ve got to get up north.” She turned away, checked with operations at Finders, learned that flights into Ketchikan were sold out. Now what?

“Wherever you’re going, Callie, I’ll take you.”

“I’m sure you’ve got to go to work.”

“Nope.” He shook his head, his smile faintly mocking. “I sold the business, remember?”

“You sold Chambers and Son?” She could hardly believe it. “But it was the family business. It was your dream.”

He shook his head. “It was never mine. For a while I thought it was my job to keep the family business going but eventually Dad convinced me I needed to live my own dream.”

“Doing what?”

“Designing boats.” He grinned at her. “In a way I was already doing that, suggesting alterations and special orders for the clients. Now I plan it all into the original design. My design. Somebody else builds them.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” This was a side of him she’d never seen. He looked at peace about his decision, relaxed, but in a different way than he’d looked at the publicity launches of his company’s sailboats. “I—I’ve been away.”

“I know. I’ve tried to reach you a hundred times to talk to you.” His face tightened. “I didn’t expect that when you finally contacted me it would be with divorce papers.”

Trust Max to get to the root of the problem without wasting time.

“We both know it’s over. Why prolong things? I spent a lot of time thinking about us on my last assignment.” She faced him, chin thrust out, shoulders back. “I’m not what you need or want, Max. I never liked posing for the cameras, being your photo-op partner. I ruin things, spoil your image. You yourself said I was bad for business.”

He winced at the reminder.

“I was mad. That hull cost—no!” He bit his lip, shook his head. “No. I’m not doing this again, Callie. I promised myself that when I finally got to talk to you it would not be about the past. Whatever was, was. We can’t change it. I’m more interested in the future.”

“We don’t have a future. That’s why I had those papers sent.” She glanced at her watch, grimaced. “This isn’t the place nor the time. I’ve got to find some way to get out of here.”

“I told you, I’ll take you.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his perfectly pressed khaki pants. His white shirt lay open at the throat, displaying his tanned neck. Max was always tanned. He wore his navy jacket half-zipped in that usual carelessly elegant way that suited him so well. The hesitancy she’d thought she’d glimpsed at first was gone now. Everything about him screamed self-assured confidence.

Beside him Callie felt as she always had—underdressed, out of place, a mess. “You don’t know where I’m going,” she blurted out.

“Somewhere north,” he guessed. “I always sail north in the fall. You know that. I’ll drop you wherever you need to be.”

She said nothing, silently calculating her options—which took about two seconds.

“I’ll have to okay it with Daniel,” she told him.

Maybe she could ask for a replacement while she was at it, because she did not, under any circumstances, want to be stuck for hours on end, on a sailboat with Max Chambers—even one as deluxe as his Freedom. It was too dangerous.

“Finders doesn’t like exceptions to the rules. Daniel may not go for it.”

“I think he’ll approve of this.”

Implying that Max was the exception to Daniel’s rules. Hadn’t he always been?

“Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

Callie dialed, explained the situation, then cut short Daniel’s expressions of delight that she and Max would have time to talk on the voyage north.

“I’m just accepting passage,” she told him in a whisper. “There’s nothing more to it.” She clicked the phone closed.

If Max heard her, he gave no sign, simply stood waiting, watching.

“I supposed Freedom’s berthed in the usual place?” she asked, wishing they didn’t have to waste time driving to his marina.

“Freedom’s in dry dock. Repairs,” he said, answering her question before she could ask it. He pointed to a slip several hundred feet in the opposite direction. “That’s Hope. She’s fully loaded and ready for passage, if you are. I moor her here because it’s nearer the condo.”

That condo—it had been at the core of many of their disputes. Callie wanted to ask him what had happened to the house—the beautiful house she’d once called home, but she didn’t dare. The memories were too raw.

“Is there anything you need to do before we leave?” Max asked politely as they walked toward the sparkling white craft.

“No. I’m ready to go.” She followed him to the boat, waited while he boarded, then handed over her backpack before stepping onto the glossy deck.

“Welcome aboard.”

“She’s very beautiful, Max,” she murmured, taking in the highly polished wood, the lazy loungers, a table and chairs at the bow where two could share dinner under the stars. “When did you get her?”

“She was finished a month ago.” He began preparations for casting off. “Entirely my design.”

Callie had sailed with him enough to know the procedures but she’d never been any good at figuring out what he wanted her to do next so she sat at the front and waited for instructions.

None came. He probably figured she’d mess up or worse, ruin his perfect creation. That’s what Max loved most—perfection. It was also what she’d never been able to achieve.

While she sat remembering past days she’d spent sailing with him, the boat slipped from its berth and moved out of the harbor. The motor picked up speed as they began gliding over the water, following the coastline in an in-and-out pattern that Callie didn’t understand. But she had full confidence in Max. He’d grown up exploring these waters and even though the sails on this boat remained tied down, she knew he’d be gauging the wind, the current, the tides, choosing the perfect path to get them on their way.

Suddenly she realized that she hadn’t told him their destination. Callie rose, gingerly made her way up to the captain’s deck where Max stood, the wind dragging the walnut-colored strands of his hair off his face. His joy in the day was apparent.

“We’re heading for Ketchikan,” she told him.

“I know. Daniel told me.”

She couldn’t believe it.

“I forced it out of him when I talked to him yesterday,” Max admitted. “I couldn’t take not knowing anymore.”

“Why should you know?” Anger, icy and hot at the same time, rolled through her. “This is my job. I don’t know everything about your life.”

“You could. I’d gladly tell you anything you want to know if you’d ever ask.” He stared at her, his face sad. “I followed you to Australia, Callie. But you’d already left Sydney by the time I got there and I couldn’t track you after that.”

“You followed me?” Shock held her immobile for several seconds. “Why?” she finally demanded.

“Because there are things I need to know, stuff we have to talk about.” His lips tightened to a thin, angry line at the shake of her head. “What?”

“I don’t want to talk about the past, Max. Not ever again.” She turned away but his words stopped her.

“Well I do. And for as long as I’ve got you on my boat, we’re going to talk about it. I need to know the truth, Callie. And you’re going to tell it to me. When I’m satisfied I know everything, then and only then will I send you off with those divorce papers you’re so anxious to file.”

Despite the blazing September sun and the protection of the cabin, an icy-cold breeze tap-danced over Callie’s nerves.

Max couldn’t know the truth.

Not ever.

TWO

Max pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head and stared at the coastline as his forefinger massaged his temple.

“Callie? Can you come here for a minute? Please?”

He wouldn’t blame her if she ignored him completely. He’d been a total jerk to act as he had, to make her feel as if he’d deliberately cornered her onboard to force her to explain.

Though it wasn’t an excuse, the way he’d been served those papers—the fact that he had been served them at all, made him see red. When she refused to talk to him he’d completely lost all perspective.

Callie responded, but not quickly. He watched her carefully store away the papers she’d been studying. She tucked them into her backpack and stowed it under the seat before she moved toward him.

Max realized how badly he’d fooled himself into believing that all Callie needed was time, that eventually she’d come home and they could start over. He’d never imagined, never let himself even consider that what she really wanted was to escape him.

“You bellowed?” Callie stood poised on the top step, curls dancing in the wind, eyes shadowed by the dark glasses she wore.

“Sorry. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve got to take a break. I’ve got a killer headache.” He pointed ahead. “There’s a little cove there that we can pull into. Is that okay with you?”

“I guess.” She pulled her glasses off to study him. Her blue eyes darkened with uncertainty. “Do you want me to take the wheel?”

“No.” A surge of frustration bubbled inside his heart when she glanced at her watch then frowned. The words burst out before he could check them. “Don’t worry. I won’t hold up your mission. I just need a break.”

“Fine. We’ll take a break. Do you want something to drink?”

“Coffee would be nice.” And some tape on my mouth to hold it shut so I won’t say anything else stupid.

“Fine. Coffee it is.” She turned, walked down the steps. A few minutes later he heard the rattle of the coffee pot. Every so often the rich aroma of percolating grounds caught on the breeze and filled his nostrils, hailing reminders of other sailing days when life with Callie had seemed good, right. Forever.

Long ago days.

Max edged his way into the bay, dropped anchor and climbed down from his perch. Callie had an umbrella set up over one of the loungers. Two steaming cups sat on the side table, one of them filled with a rich mocha-colored liquid.

Strong and creamy. At least she remembered that much.

“Thank you,” he murmured, sinking into the chaise. He took a sip of the smooth, creamed coffee, then let his head tip back against the chair as the pounding took over. He pretended he couldn’t feel her watching him.

“I suppose I should be able to take over the helm but I’ll be just as happy if I don’t have to. I guess that doesn’t make me a very good sailing partner.” The words died away.

After a moment she spoke again, her voice brimming with hesitancy and something else—shame?

“But then I never was a very good partner, period.”

He hated her saying that, hated that he’d obviously made her so unhappy.

“Callie?” Max reached out, grasped her wrist before she could move away. Though he could tell she didn’t like his grip, she remained still. “Could we please just let the past lie for a while? You don’t want to talk about what happened between us. Fine. I’ll try to abide by that. But could we at least make an attempt to enjoy this trip?”

“While I’m a prisoner, you mean?” She did slide her hand away then. Her jaw thrust forward in defiance, letting him know she wouldn’t forgive him so easily.

“Come on, Cal,” Max chided, almost smiling at her stubborn tip-tilted chin. “You’re not a prisoner and you know it. Anytime you ask, I’ll drop you off at the nearest town.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“I know.” He took another sip and decided it was long past time for the truth. “Those papers made me mad, Callie and I reacted badly. We don’t see each other for ages, I can’t get hold of you, don’t know whether you’re alive or dead, and suddenly some man I’ve never even seen before serves me with divorce papers in front of a crowd of people I’m trying to persuade to buy one of my designs.”

“So I embarrassed you with my bad timing. Again.” She winced. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t the timing, Callie.”

“Whatever it was, then. I’m still sorry. I’m always sorry. But it doesn’t seem to help much.” She flopped down opposite him, sipped her own coffee.

Max shook his head, sought for the right words.

“After the ba—when you left, you said you were taking another job because you had to get away, to think things over. Then you wrote you needed more time to get past…”

He swallowed hard, tiptoed around that subject.

“I agreed because I figured some space might be good for both of us. But I’ve hardly heard from you, I never know where you are. You certainly never once said anything about divorce in those cryptic little notes Finders Inc. forwarded to me.”

“Again—I’m sorry,” she whispered but she didn’t look at him.

Max was heartily sick of hearing that word, but at the moment there seemed little else either of them could say. He was sorry, too. He’d made his own mistakes, pushed when he should have just been there for her.

As he studied her, Max suddenly realized that this woman was not the Callie Merton he’d married. Body and mind were there. But her soul, the essence that made Callie who she was, now hid in a mask of protection that prevented him from reading her real emotions. She seemed as confident as always, but was it real or simply a front—something to keep him from getting too close?

Callie lifted her cup and he noticed her hand was shaking. He took a second, more deliberate survey of his wife, sans sunglasses and hat. The sight stunned him. There were dark rings around her eyes, she was far too thin, her cheekbones too pronounced even for a fashion model. Physically she looked like she was at the end of her rope. That wouldn’t affect her job, of course. She still projected the same confidence she’d always had in her work. The cause of her frailty must lie elsewhere. It had stolen the joy from her eyes.

Daniel’s warning that Callie had changed rang true. The more Max studied her, the more he realized that she was forcing herself to sit here, to talk to him. She seemed unusually nervous about it and he couldn’t help wondering if maybe seeing him again had helped twig old memories for her, too. Maybe she was rethinking the divorce.

Maybe he still had a chance.

Until now he’d thought only of his own hurt, anger, disappointment. He’d seen himself as the wronged party. But it was clear Callie wasn’t at peace despite her decision to cut herself off from him.

“Can you tell me anything about this mission?” Maybe the reason God had brought them together was for him to help her somehow. “What’s supposed to happen when you get to Ketchikan?”

In the past Max had helped out Finders Inc. several times and as a result Daniel had granted him a certain security clearance. Surely Callie remembered that and wouldn’t try to block his questions, because if she did he’d phone Daniel and get the truth. And while Max had the CEO on the phone, he’d ask him a few hard questions about her latest physical.

“I have to find a man, get him to sign some papers. Piece of cake.”

“Can I know the name of the man?”

She looked at him, raised one eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

She lay back on the lounger, kicked off her deck shoes and stretched her toes in the sun. “Josiah Harpnell. Ring any bells for you?”

Max nodded. “As a matter of fact it does. He published some research on the grazing paths of caribou and elk herds when they migrate north in the summer. Once the environmentalists got hold of it in Washington, there were fireworks. I think that was about two years ago.”

“You were considering entering politics then.”

She said it with a certain resignation that made Max remember how much she’d hated his constant political glad-handing, the unending meetings, phone calls, game playing. It was one reason she gave for continuing her killer schedule at Finders Inc. One of many reasons. It was also the argument she’d used against starting the family he thought they’d both wanted.

“I was on a committee to investigate some of Harpnell’s claims,” he mused, dredging up the information. “There was concern that the old migration routes would be disturbed by plans to dig for oil in a protected area.” To ease the throbbing at the back of his neck, Max attempted to massage away the pain. “I’m glad I realized that political life wasn’t for me.”

“To give you more time to focus on your business interests, you said.”

That had been the reason he’d given her, but even back then, Max had known something was wrong between them, that Callie was using his political leanings as an excuse to stay busy and away from him. He’d assumed that cutting back on his schedule would fix whatever wasn’t working with them. He’d been wrong.

“This spring I resigned from a lot of the committees I’m on,” he explained. “Chamber of Commerce, City Council, all of it. Except for the church. I’m still a member there.”

“Ah, yes. The church.” Her voice brimmed with scathing and he recalled how uncomfortable she’d always seemed in the church he’d attended since he was a child.

“My church is important to me.”

“I know.” She watched him through narrowed eyes.

Max leaned back, tried not to wince at the increased pounding. Now of all times he didn’t want to look weak—but Callie already knew about his killer headaches. Her narrowed scrutiny wouldn’t miss a thing. He closed his eyes, feigned sleep.

“Look at me, Max.” She grasped his chin, forced him to look at her. “Is it a migraine? Because you don’t have to go with me you know. I can manage on my own. I always do.”

As if she hadn’t told him that a thousand times before. “It’s just a headache.”

“You’re sure?” Callie’s fingers dropped from his face, wrapped around his wrist.

She was taking his pulse, he realized suddenly. The feel of her skin brought back a thousand memories…He yanked his hand away.

“I don’t need your first aid, Callie. I know Finders equips you to handle anything, but I’m fine. I’ll rest for a bit and it will go away.”

“That’s what you always said—right before it turned into a whopper.” She leaned closer to check his pupils.

Max caught the lemony scent of her favorite shampoo and shifted away from temptation. Callie glared at him.

“Why didn’t you mention you had a headache? You can hardly expect it to go away while you’re squinting into the sun.” Her voice lowered, sounded almost friendly. “I’ve got some medication. Do you want a tablet?”

“Sure.” Anything to ease the band of pain that was making his eyes blur and weakening his ability to remain angry at her.

A few moments later he swallowed the medication she offered then forced himself to lie prone on the lounger as the gentle lap of the waves lulled him into a dreamy floating state. It reminded him of the second honeymoon he’d thought about surprising her with many times in the past. Somehow he’d never gotten around to planning it. What had he been doing that was so important?

“I could man the helm for a while if you want,” Callie offered after a long silence.

“Thanks anyway, but I’d like to keep this boat in its present condition.”

Max bit his tongue, opened one eye to see how she’d taken his rude and unnecessary rebuff.

“Yeah, sure. I guess sailing was like a lot of other things in our marriage. I never did get the hang of it,” she mumbled, her face bright red.

He ignored the last part, tried to make a joke of her ineptness at steering a craft.

“Your problem with direction while sailing is rather strange when you consider the job you do, isn’t it?” Whatever she’d given him was working fast. Max felt the bolts of pain that gripped his brain loosening. His whole body was relaxing inch by inch. “Daniel said you’re one of the best locators Finders has.”

“Daniel’s a very nice man.”

“Daniel doesn’t exaggerate.” He stared at her and wished Callie would open up and just talk, let the words flow without checking every sentence, without censoring every word. Once he’d thought it was shyness, thought she’d get over it. He knew better than that now. Callie kept a tight rein on herself all the time, but now the rein was choking her. “How can you locate a thing or a person if you don’t know your directions?”

“I don’t get my directions confused on land, Maxwell. Just when I’m on the water, when I don’t have any reference points. On good old terra firma I know exactly where I’m going. It’s a land sense, I guess. Something I was born with. As opposed to sea sense.”

Better. At least she was talking.

“What were you doing in Australia?”

“Locating a creep.” She made a face. “Worst assignment I ever had.”

“Why?” Immediately his radar went up.

“Nothing horrible. It was just busywork once I located him, tailing him to make sure he didn’t disappear.” She gave him a sideways look while considering her answer. “The guy was a total sleazebag. He made his second home in the bars, nightclubs, strip joints—all the garbage Sydney and every other city has to offer.”

Callie had never really told him much about her work before. He’d told himself it was a security thing, or because she wanted their time together to be free of Finders Inc., but his heart had known better. Max felt a wiggle of satisfaction that she’d willingly explained this much with so little prodding.

“How long did you follow him?”

“Two months, day and night.”

“And in all that time he didn’t notice you?” He could hardly believe it.

Even thin as a rail, Callie was gorgeous. A cap of curls that shone like rubbed mahogany, sapphire-blue eyes and a mouth that tilted upward in an impish grin when she laughed. She was tall and slim with a swift agility he’d always admired. How could anyone not notice Callie Merton?

“We use disguises, Max.” She made a face. “Trust me, he never even knew I was there.”

“Why were you tailing him for so long?” he asked, curious as to whether her absence from his world all that time had been by choice or by request. “You used to take cases that lasted only a week or two.”

“Our client didn’t want him to go missing before they could get immigration to bring him back into the country and since I was already on the case—” She shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad as I made it out to be. He usually slept till noon or later. Believe me, I got lots of time on the beach. The ocean was great and I soaked up a few rays, as well.”

She didn’t look tanned and rested. She looked—tense.

Callie wasn’t telling him everything. Max had a hunch it was important to find out what she’d deliberately omitted. In the past he’d shied away from asking too many questions. Maybe that had been a mistake.

“He stole some crack from a fellow who doesn’t like to be messed with. To get away, our boy headed for the Outback.” She grimaced. “There my cover was that I was a scientist conducting experiments in the area. Once he dried out, we got to be pals. There were no bars in the area, you see. When immigration finally picked him up, I think he’d been sober the longest in his life.”

“Some good from the bad then.” He kept his focus on her, realized she wasn’t going to tell him any more.

“I suppose, though it took me a couple of hours in the shower to get rid of all that dust. It’s not a place I’d recommend as a holiday spot even though it is beautiful.” Callie grinned at him, blue eyes dancing with fun. “It sure cured me of camping, though. I don’t think I ever want to sleep in a tent again.”

“That’s something to be thankful for.” He grinned back, remembering the first few months they’d been married. How many weekends had he left work early, packed up their sleeping bags and that ratty tent she loved? He’d trekked behind her up and down the mountain for miles until she found exactly the right place to make camp so they could sleep in the outdoors.

“I think I’m too old to sleep on the ground again.”

“Me, too.” She giggled.

The laughter died away until only silence hung between them.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you, Max,” she whispered, her voice so faint he had to lean in to hear. “I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just—I can’t stay married to you anymore.”

“Why?” He needed something to silence the desperate whisper in his heart. What they’d shared couldn’t be beyond repair. He wouldn’t accept that. “What was it I did that was so terrible you had to run away, and keep running?”

“It wasn’t you!” She stared at him, her eyes huge in her heart-shaped face. “Of course it wasn’t you. It was me. It is me. I’m an embarrassment to you, a nuisance, the proverbial square peg in a round hole.”

“Callie, that’s not true.”

“Of course it is.” She shook her head, her face rueful. “Did you think I didn’t notice how many times you had to apologize for me to your friends, your employees, your family?”

“I didn’t apologize for you!” She made it sound like he’d been ashamed of her. That had never been true.

“You did, Max.” She nodded her head, curls tumbling down over one eye. She shoved them out of the way. “That time I tried to bring a casserole to the church potluck—don’t you remember? ‘Callie didn’t realize,’ you told them.”

“Well you didn’t, but that was my fault for not explaining that it was supposed to be a dessert potluck.” He couldn’t fathom the cause of the despair flooding her face. “What was wrong with saying that?”

“Nothing. Except that you had to keep saying it. Over and over. ‘Excuse Callie.’ ‘Sorry, Callie didn’t understand.’ ‘Poor dumb Callie.’” She laughed but it caught in her throat and sounded more like a sob.

“I never said—”

“I became an embarrassment to myself. Especially with your church friends. I didn’t fit in with them, Max, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t share their stories the way you could. I never went to their youth meetings, their parties. I wasn’t part of their group. I even failed at trying to entertain them.”

He remembered the New Year’s Eve party she’d begged to host, the elaborate preparations she’d gone to, how flat and lifeless it had seemed.

“So maybe we should have met new people.”

“We did, remember? I still blew it and you were still embarrassed so don’t pretend.” Her blue eyes hardened. “I’m not the kind of person who impresses people like the ones you know, Max. We should have realized from the start that my ability as a chameleon only extends to my work.”

“That’s not—”

“I can’t pretend to be the person you need anymore,” she told him, her voice brimming with a desperation he’d never heard before. “I can’t be your wife. That’s what I figured out in the Outback. That’s why I had the papers drawn up as soon as I got back. I knew I had to do it.”

“But we made a commitment, Callie. We’re married. You can’t just walk away from that!” Max felt like he was slipping and couldn’t regain his footing. “You can’t just stop being married.”

“I already have. That’s why you got those papers.”

“Really?” Her flat tones infuriated him. “Why now? What’s the rush? Is there someone else?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She offered him a glance of pity. “In the Outback I had a lot of time to look at what I’d made of my life, what I’d done to yours. You need to be married to someone like one of your friends, Max. Someone who knows how things work in your circle, who’s used to your way of doing things.”

“It’s nice to know you’ve decided that for both of us,” he snapped, saw the icy frost over her eyes. Or maybe it was tears. “What about what I want?” he asked quietly.

“You already told me what you don’t want.” The words bit into him with a pain he couldn’t avoid. They were his words. “You don’t want a wife who does what I do, you don’t want to be married to someone who might have to leave on a moment’s notice and can’t guarantee when she’ll return. You want the kind of life I can’t live.”

“Can’t or won’t?” He tilted her chin so he could see into her eyes.

She met his gaze. Just for an instant he thought he saw a glimmer of the person he’d fallen in love with three years ago, the girl with no past, no family, but who threw herself into love wholeheartedly.

The girl he now knew he’d never really known at all.

Callie pulled out of his grasp, rose. “I’ll go make some dinner. I guess we missed lunch.”

He let her go, watched through the window as she mucked about in the galley. As usual, she was focused on the moment, intent on her work. But he couldn’t help wondering—did she ever think about that day?

“It’s ready,” she told him, huffing a little under the weight of the huge tray she carried up the stairs.

Max took it from her, set it on the table. Callie laid two mismatched placemats across from each other, then carefully arranged the place settings on them. He’d specifically equipped his vessel with two complete sets of tableware, one for more formal occasions, which she’d chosen to place in front of him, one plainer set, which she’d selected for herself. He opened his mouth to ask why, quickly clamped it shut. One thing he’d learned—Callie’s actions were never random.

Callie always had a reason for her behavior. Only now Max was beginning to realize that most of the time he’d never bothered to find out what her reasons were. The different dishes were meant to point out the differences between them.

He sat silent. Now was hardly the time to argue. It would only emphasize her belief that she didn’t fit—as she’d claimed—into his life.

Shouldn’t that be their life?

Chagrin chewed at him as he recalled the many accommodations she’d made to fit into his life—and the few he’d made to fit his life to hers.

“Aren’t you going to sit down?”

Max sat, sampled her cooking and found it as exotic as ever. The flavors were different, complex but delicious nonetheless.

“It’s very good,” he told her, picking up his water glass. He clinked the glass of it against her plastic tumbler. “To the cook.”

“You used to say I made things too spicy. I used a lot of peppers. Is the shrimp going to bother your stomach?” she asked, her eyebrows pulled together in a furrow of concern as she sipped her water. “I guess lots of people find my food too hot.”

People like who? he wanted to demand, jealousy growing inside.

But while she’d been cooking he’d rethought his confrontational approach. Callie thought their differences were too great to be overcome. Maybe it was time to help her see the similarities they shared. Max leaned back in his chair and let the flavors burst onto his tongue while he launched into phase one of his new plan to get his wife back.

“It’s not too hot, Callie, nor too spicy,” he told her quietly. “It just takes a few minutes to identify the flavors hitting my tastebuds. I like it very much.”

“Which is a nice way of saying you can’t figure out what kind of sauce it’s supposed to be.” She watched his face, eyes brimming with curiosity. “Your stomach must have gotten stronger. You didn’t even comment on the paprika.”

Max let that pass, finished his meal, then pushed away the plate. “Nobody cooks like you, Callie,” he told her sincerely.

She seemed confused by his words, as if she couldn’t understand that he actually liked what she’d prepared. How humbling to realize that things he’d said and done had made her feel inadequate.

They sat in the silence as twilight fell around them. Encouraged by the fact that she didn’t make some excuse to hurry below to do the dishes, Max told her stories about the dog he’d adopted, the chocolate Lab he’d named Radar.

“Why Radar?”

“He can sense table scraps coming his way at a hundred feet,” he told her with a grin. “He’s boarding at the vet’s.”

Callie’s whole face seemed to soften as she stared out over the water. “I always wanted a dog,” she whispered. “But where I lived, dogs weren’t—”

Her cell phone rang. Max longed to beg her to ignore it, to finish what she’d been going to say. But she jumped up, hurried away from the table to dig it out of her backpack.

“Yes?” She listened for several minutes, then clicked it closed.

“Anything important?”

“An update. Finders got a report that Josiah was spotted on his way to Ketchikan. Apparently he hates staying in town so he’ll probably camp out with a couple of friends for two nights and show up in Ketchikan sometime the day after tomorrow. He usually doesn’t stay longer than a day.”

Meaning they had to get there ASAP. Max sighed. Always her work came between them. At least that’s what he was blaming it on this time.

He rose.

“I’ll get us under way if you don’t mind cleaning up this mess. Thanks for dinner, too. It was great.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll bring you up some tea when it’s ready.” She watched him ascend to the upper deck. “Isn’t it dangerous to sail at night?”

“We haven’t got time to sail, Callie. You need to get there fast so we’ll use the engines. I have radar, GPS, the whole deal installed on Hope so there’s not much danger. If I push it, we just might make it to Ketchikan in time to meet Josiah. A good thing I had the engine upgraded when I designed this baby.”

Max pulled anchor and backed them out of the cove, set his bearings and plotted his course. It was going to be tight, but there was an outside chance he could get her there by the day after tomorrow and he was taking it.

A balloon of pride lodged inside his gut as Hope skimmed over the smooth, flat surface of the water. His creation, his design. And they both worked beautifully. He made a small course correction, noticed a new blip on his radar. Someone else was going their way. Not unusual given they were traveling the Inside Passage.

Just for fun, he tracked starboard for a while. The blip followed. He pushed the throttle up a couple of knots. The distance between them expanded only for a few seconds, then the blip caught up. Someone was monitoring their course so closely they adjusted their own to follow.

Now that was odd.

Max wasn’t sure how much time passed before Callie returned with an insulated mug of steaming hot tea. He took a sip and smiled. Sugared exactly right. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“Is your headache gone?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, thanks. Whatever you gave me certainly did the trick.”

She stood beside him, protected by the cabin’s glass surround, facing forward as the bow cut through the water.

A soft, sweet rush of comfort filled him that she was there, beside him—until she spoke and the peace between them disintegrated like fog in sun.

“You’re trying, Max. And I really appreciate that.”

He noted a little tremble in her voice, saw her lick her lips, draw a deep breath.

“I didn’t file for divorce lightly, but the truth we both know is that you can’t forgive me for what I did. I can’t forgive myself. That’s why I had the papers drawn up and sent to you. Once we reach Ketchikan, I hope you’ll sign them.”

What she’d done? He frowned, fought to make sense of her words. Did Callie really think that she alone was responsible for whatever had gone wrong between them? He knew losing the baby had changed her, that he should have talked about it more, tried to understand what she was going through. But he’d been so angry when she’d immediately taken another assignment overseas—he couldn’t understand that. Why had she run away? Why then?

He’d told her from the beginning that he wanted a family. But after she’d taken off and stayed away, he’d begun to wonder if Callie had wanted a child—or if she’d just let him think she did.

“You’re in a bit of a rush to file for divorce already, aren’t you?” he asked tightly. “We haven’t even tried to talk, haven’t spent time trying to figure out if we can fix what’s gone wrong. I think we owe our marriage that.”

“There is no point in talking. You don’t know me, Max. You never did. That’s not your fault. It’s mine, it’s who I am. I’m not the kind of person you should have married. I realize that now. But I can’t take any more guilt for the past. I—” She hiccupped a sob, stifled it. “I can’t.”

As quietly as she came, she disappeared below. Except for the well-tuned purr of the motor, all was quiet on the boat. But Max knew Callie wasn’t sleeping.

The past, one tiny chunk of it, lay between them, dead, buried even, but not forgotten.

Never forgotten.

Max preferred to face life head-on, hit the hard spots and work his way through to a resolution. But to do that in this marriage he needed Callie’s cooperation and it was clear she wasn’t about to talk to him—not tonight, not ever—by the sounds of what she’d just said.

So what now?

He glanced at the console, noted the tiny red blip on the radar that continued to draw closer. He changed his course three times, watched the blip move three times.

This wasn’t just another craft traveling the Inside Passage. Someone was deliberately following them.

Why?

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