Chapter 1
CAPE ELIZABETH, MAINE
It wasn’t an easy climb to the top of the 170-foot slope, especially after an hour-long swim in the icy waters of the North Atlantic.
Nevertheless, Ryan Kealey was pleased to feel only a slight sense of exertion when he finally reached the small clearing above the cliffs.
He took a long moment to admire the view, then moved off at an easy pace down a gravel footpath. It wasn’t long before he came across a ragged beach towel draped over a solitary fence post. Using it to dry his unruly black hair, Kealey continued along the path until the trees parted and the house he had purchased eleven months earlier came into view. The thoroughly remodeled home stood three stories tall, with elaborate French doors and windows tucked neatly into the cedar-shingled exterior. The expensive slate roof was a recent addition, as was the exterior fireplace centered on the inlaid stone patio. Ryan had done most of the stonework himself, but had contracted out for the roof. While he was proud of his abilities as a handyman, he recognized that there were limitations to his skill.
As he approached, the door leading to the kitchen was suddenly flung open, and a young woman rushed out to envelop him in a fe-rocious hug.
“Damn it, Ryan, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I’ve got some news you definitely don’t want to hear,” she said with an infectious grin.
Kealey smiled back, charmed as always by her youthful exuber-ance. “Then I know you’ll save us both the trouble and keep it to yourself,” he said with a laugh.
She bounced alongside of him as he moved through the open door into the warm interior of the house.
“You’ll never believe it,” she said breathlessly. “I overheard the dean saying that your attendance record is even worse than that of your ‘most consistently inebriated student,’ were his exact words, I think, and then he said—”
“Katie.” He interrupted her excited rambling with gentle good humor. “I need that job even less than he wants me there. I wouldn’t worry about it.” Kealey occasionally lectured at the University of Maine as an associate professor of International Relations, but lately just hadn’t been inclined to make the trip. Although he was becoming increasingly bored with the teaching, he had to admit that something good had come of it as he surreptitiously glanced at Katie Donovan out of the corner of his eye.
She was pouting as though put off by his lack of interest in her story, but the theatrics didn’t last long. “Honey, I’ve been running around since six this morning,” she said. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Care for some company?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
“Oh, I see how it is,” she retorted, wearing a knowing smile of her own. “You’re more than happy to jump in the shower with me, but you couldn’t care less when it comes to hearing about my day.”
He shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to compromise. I’ll scrub you down while you tell the story.”
“ ‘Scrub me down,’ huh? Is that what you call it now?” He opened his mouth to protest, but she had already peeled off her T-shirt and tossed it in his face. Then she was running up the stairs, screaming in mock fear as Ryan followed close on her heels.
Much later, he stood on the second-story balcony with a cup of coffee and stared out across the frigid gray expanse of the ocean. He watched as the towering thunderheads several miles offshore seemed to grow at an alarming rate, and could soon feel the strong gusts as they brought small sprinkles of rain inland. If he strained, he could hear the distant peel of thunder over the television tuned to MSNBC in the master bedroom. Every major news network had been providing continuous coverage of the preceding week’s attack in Washington, as they were prone to do with any disaster—natural or otherwise. As he sipped the warm coffee, he heard the screen door slide open and Katie approached from behind, gently wrapping her wind-tanned forearms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder.
“You’re expecting a call, aren’t you?”
Ryan raised an eyebrow at that. They had been together for only six months, and though they had once had a short, awkward discussion about the work he used to do, the subject did not often come up. Once again, he was amazed by how perceptive she could be.
He turned to face her, instinctively reaching out to touch her cheek, smooth beneath waves of shimmering golden brown. As her troubled blue eyes searched his face, he found he could only answer truthfully.
“I guess I am. The call is a given. It’s whether I go or not . . .” He turned to gaze at the approaching storm. “I just don’t know.”
She leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips.
“Yes, you do.”
Later that evening, Katie left for Orono to attend a night course in physics. From the front door he watched as she tossed her books haphazardly into the rear seat and sped off in her battered Corolla, throwing him a cheerful wave along the way. Although she couldn’t have known it, her prophecy was fulfilled when the telephone rang just before eight. Ryan hesitated and kept his fingertips on the receiver for several seconds before lifting it to his ear.
It was still dark the following morning as Ryan streaked north on I-95 in his dark blue BMW 645Ci. He had scribbled a short note punc-tuated with an apology and left it on the kitchen table, but guessed that Katie would still be furious when she finally got back from Orono. Although the concern skirted the edge of his mind for a while, it was soon replaced by the pleasure of the car’s performance and the scenic beauty of the surrounding countryside.
As the first rays of the sun filtered through the passing forest, dense tree cover overhead rained dying leaves of brilliant red and yellow onto the roof of his vehicle and the approaching road. The trip seemed to pass faster than he had expected, and it wasn’t long before he pulled into the daily parking lot at Bangor International Airport, the heavy sedan easily navigating the numerous speed bumps leading into the garage. It was just past 7:30 when he collected his electronic ticket from a pretty blond attendant at the United Airlines counter, who managed to flash him an alluring smile despite the early hour. By 8:45 he was on the next flight to Washington, D.C.
About the same time he landed at Dulles International, Katie Donovan was rocketing recklessly up the narrow driveway bordered with pines to the house on Cape Elizabeth. She was in a dangerous mood, having spent the morning arguing with her faculty-appointed advisor over the course her dissertation was taking. As a second-year PhD candidate in applied mathematics, she had already spent so many years in school that the thought of leaving it all behind to start her career was becoming an increasingly attractive idea. The argument had degenerated into a shouting match; she had definitely burned some bridges there, but took solace in the fact that she would be spending the rest of the afternoon with Ryan.
Opening the front door, Katie announced her arrival with a flourish, but there was no answer. The sound of her heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors echoed throughout the house as she walked through the empty rooms. In the kitchen, she looked around in puzzlement before noticing the sheet of paper on the table.
The note was apologetic, but Katie still found herself growing angrier each time she read it. How could he just take off without even saying good-bye? Over the past six months she had opened herself to him, shared so much, and in return he had revealed almost nothing of his past, except that he had briefly worked for the Central Intelligence Agency. It had taken a considerable degree of craftiness and charm to get that much out of him.