This had to be Finn Dalton’s mother. It simply had to be. From the moment Nash had given Carrie what seemed like the impossible assignment of interviewing Finn, she’d looked for out-of-the-box ways to locate him. Her mother’s mention of work on the Alaskan pipeline and that many of those employed came from Washington State had led to a breakthrough. At least she hoped so. The search led Carrie to the birth record for a Finnegan Paul Dalton, not in Alaska but in her own birth state of Washington. That record revealed his mother’s name—Joan Finnegan Dalton—which then led to a divorce decree, along with a license for a second marriage several years later. Tax records indicated that Joan, whose married name was now Reese, continued to reside in Washington State. Her hope was that Joan Dalton Reese would be willing to help Carrie find Finn.
The November wind and rain whipped against her as she walked up the short pathway to the single-family house in Kent, a suburb south of Seattle.
Nerves made Carrie tense as she rang the doorbell and waited. After a few moments, she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. The woman who opened it didn’t look to be much older than her own mother.
“Joan Finnegan Dalton Reese?” Carrie asked.
The petite, dark-haired woman blinked warily, and her eyes widened as if she wasn’t sure what to think. “Yes?”
“By chance are you related to Finnegan Paul Dalton?”
She didn’t answer right away, and then her gaze narrowed. “You’re another one of those reporters, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I—”
Joan started to close the door, but Carrie quickly inserted her foot, stopping her.
The two women stared hard at each other. “Yes, I’m a reporter, but I’m hoping you’ll hear me out.”
“Why should I?” she demanded, and crossed her arms over her chest.
Carrie frantically searched for something that would convince the other woman to talk to her. “I can’t think of a single reason other than the fact that I’m tired of writing for the society page. I gave up spending time with my family over Thanksgiving with the hope that I could get this interview, and I think you have an incredible son, and I’d very much like to meet and interview him.”
The delicate woman looked undecided. “What do you mean you write for the society page?”
Carrie explained how she’d taken a few of her precious vacation days and flown to Seattle. It’d been a risk, but one she was willing to take. This would be the first year she’d missed the holiday with her parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Although it would be a sacrifice, her parents understood that if she did manage to interview Finn Dalton, then she would have her pick of writing assignments, and not just in Chicago, but perhaps in the Pacific Northwest. “I want to move back to Seattle to be closer to my family, and this is my chance.”
Joan eyed her carefully, and then, after what seemed like an eternity, she slowly opened the door, silently inviting Carrie inside.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.” Stepping out of the cold, Carrie instantly felt the warm flow of air surround her. She noticed a bronze pumpkin off to the right and a doll-sized set of pilgrims on the dining room table.
Joan motioned toward the living room. “How much do you know about my son?”
Carrie sat on the edge of the sofa cushion, unsure how best to answer. She could attempt to bluff or she could be direct in the hope that Joan Reese would be willing to help her. “Well, only what I’ve read in his book and what I’ve learned online, which isn’t much.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I haven’t talked to my Finn in five years, not since his father died … he told me he wants nothing more to do with me.”
Carrie read the pain in the other woman’s eyes, and not knowing how to react, she leaned forward and placed her hand on Joan’s forearm.
“I tried to connect with him after his father’s death, but Finn made it clear that I had nothing to say that he wanted to hear.” She wadded a tissue in her hands and kept her head lowered.
“So you don’t have any idea where Finn is living?” Carrie asked, her heart thumping with hope and expectation.
“Alaska, somewhere outside Fairbanks, but then you probably already know that.”
Seeing that he’d written extensively about life in the frozen north, this was the one piece of information she did have. And apparently so did every other news agency. His book told of adventures on the tundra, which indicated his cabin was most likely situated near the Arctic Circle. And that meant the only way to reach him would be by air, which would involve hiring a bush pilot.
“I’ve tried to find someone in Alaska to help me”—Carrie explained her efforts to talk to a number of resources, including bush pilots—“but it’s been one dead end after another.”
“At least you’re honest about being a reporter,” Joan said. “You couldn’t imagine what some of them have tried, thinking I could give them information that would lead them to my son. You, at least, are willing to admit why you’re doing this.”
“He probably never suspected this interest in him and his lifestyle would happen. People love his stories, and now they want to know about the man behind them.”
“He never forgave me, you see …” Joan murmured, her voice trailing away as she methodically tore apart the tissue in her hands.
“Forgave you?”
“I left him and his father when Finn was a boy. Paul loved Alaska, and I was born in Louisiana. I tried to make a life with him up there, but I couldn’t bear the cold and the isolation, whereas Paul and Finn seemed to thrive on it. I wanted us to compromise, come back to the lower forty-eight a few months each year, but Paul wasn’t willing to consider that. He insisted there was nothing for him outside Alaska. He felt any time away would be a waste. He had a dozen different projects going all the time and refused to leave. I wanted Finn to come with me, but my son chose to stay with his father.” She paused and looked away as if she regretted having spoken. “Once I left, Paul cut me completely out of his life, and Finn’s, too. Eventually I remarried, but it was more for companionship than love. Finn never forgave me for that, either. I think he must have held on to the dream that his father and I would reunite one day. My second husband died a year ago, so I’m a widow twice over.”
“I’m so sorry,” Carrie said.
“I wish I knew the man Finn has become,” Joan whispered.
“If I find him and have a chance to talk to him, I’ll tell him about meeting you. I can give him a message from you, even if it’s just to remind him that you love him and want to hear from him.”
Joan glanced up and her eyes brightened with what could be described only as ragged hope. “You’d do that?”
“Of course.” As close as she was to her own family, Carrie’s heart went out to Finn’s mother, still looking to connect with her son. Although she didn’t know him beyond the pages of his book, she couldn’t help wonder about a man who would turn his back on his mother.
“Then perhaps there’s a small way I can help,” Joan said, her eyes twinkling now.
“There is?” She had Carrie’s full attention.
Joan left the room and returned a few moments later with a simple gold ring. “This was Paul’s wedding band. When we divorced … he was angry and bitter, and he returned the ring to me. I’ve saved it all these years, and now that Paul is dead I would like Finn to have it.”
“You want me to give Finn his father’s ring?”
Joan nodded. “Finn has a friend named Sawyer. He’s a bush pilot who is often in Fairbanks. I could see Sawyer felt bad for the way Finn spoke to me at his father’s funeral, and I think he might be willing to help you find my son if you give him a good enough reason.”
Carrie smiled and held the gold band between her index finger and thumb. This ring could very well be her ticket to reaching the elusive Finn Dalton.
“You found him?” Sophie shouted from the other end of the cell phone. “You actually found Finn Dalton?”
Carrie meandered through the Fairbanks airport, dragging her carry-on behind her with one hand and holding the cell phone to her ear with the other. Her high-heeled boots made tapping sounds against the floor as she left the baggage-claim area. “I haven’t found him yet,” Carrie corrected. “But I’m close.”
“Where are you?”
“Fairbanks. I just landed.” Carrie had caught the first available flight out of Seattle after meeting with Joan. “So, listen, if I’m not back in Chicago on Monday, make up an excuse, will you?”
“You don’t want me to tell Nash you’re hot on the trail of Finn Dalton?”
“Not yet. I want to present the article as a done deal.”
“I can’t believe you were actually able to track him down,” Sophie said excitedly.
“Don’t get ahead of me; I still don’t have that interview. Sorry, I need to go.”
“Good luck. I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.”
“Thanks.” After ending the call, she stuck her cell phone in the outside pocket of her purse and made her way through the small airport, looking for the hangar where the bush pilots parked. All she had was Sawyer’s name, and she wasn’t even sure if it was his first or last. It took her awhile to locate the hangar. She asked around until she found someone willing to talk to her.
Clearly she looked enough like a city girl with her full-length double-breasted gray wool coat, fashionable boots, and earmuffs for the pilots and mechanics to recognize she was another pesky reporter in search of the elusive Finn Dalton. She was barely able to get two words out of her mouth before she got the cold shoulder.
“I’m looking for a pilot named Sawyer,” she asked a man inside the hangar, doing her best to hide her frustration. He looked like a mechanic, dressed in greasy coveralls. If bush pilots weren’t willing to talk to her, then perhaps he would. No one seemed to want to help.
The mechanic’s eyes pierced her, slowly taking her in. “What do you want Sawyer for?” he demanded.
Carrie straightened her shoulders and stood her full five feet ten inches, meeting him almost eye to eye. “I would like to hire him.”
“For what?”
“A job.”
With his hands braced against his hips, the mechanic regarded her skeptically. “You’re another one of them reporters, aren’t you?”
Carrie decided to sidestep the question. “I have something to deliver to a friend of Sawyer’s, so if you’d kindly point me in his direction, I’d be most appreciative.”
“A friend of his named …” He left it for her to fill in the blank.
Carrie’s shoulders relaxed. “Finn Dalton.”
“That’s what I thought.” Turning his back on her, he walked completely around the outside of his plane, running his hand over the structure as though checking for something, although Carrie couldn’t imagine what.
She wasn’t giving up. “Can you tell me if Mr. Sawyer is in the area now, or when I can expect to find him?”
“Ah, so it’s Mr. Sawyer now?”
Carrie ignored his tone and the question.
“I have something to give Finn Dalton.”
“Do you, now? And what might that be? A headache?”
Very funny. She ignored that comment, although her patience was wearing thin. “It’s something from his mother.”
“And his mother’s name is?” he asked, whirling around unexpectedly and almost colliding with her.
“Joan,” she said quickly. “Joan Finnegan Dalton Reese.”
The mechanic regarded her for several moments, studying her, his eyes boring into hers. “I’m Sawyer O’Halloran.”
“You’re Sawyer?”
“In the flesh.”
After a long flight, Carrie was tired and hungry and anxious. “I want to hire you to take me to Finn Dalton.”
Shaking his head, Sawyer muttered something indecipherable and walked away. “You and every other reporter who has been nosing around here.”
Carrie hurried after him. “I’m serious, and I’ll pay you anything reasonable if you’ll take me to him. You can wait while I talk to Finn. I won’t be long, I promise.”
“Just as I thought. When will you people give it up? Although I have to admit you’re cleverer than most, bringing up his mother.”
“I’m telling you the truth. I have something to give him from her.”
“Sure you do,” Sawyer commented, continuing to walk away from her.
Carrie chased after him, dragging her suitcase. She had to duck her head in order to walk beneath the Cessna’s wing. “It’s his father’s wedding band. Joan asked me to deliver it to Finn.” She hated the desperate pleading quality to her voice, but she had to convince Sawyer she was legitimate.
Sawyer hesitated. “Show me the ring.”
“Okay.” She slid the purse strap off her shoulder and dug inside for the ring, which was wrapped in a tissue inside a plastic bag. Once it was free, she handed it to Sawyer. “His name, Paul Dalton, is engraved on the inside, along with Joan’s name and the date of their wedding.”
Sawyer carefully examined the gold band, and then Carrie, before returning the ring. “There’s a storm due. I’m heading back to Hard Luck in fifteen minutes. I’ll land on the lake outside Finn’s cabin and return in the morning or whenever, depending on this storm. Is that agreeable?”
“Yes, perfect.” At this point, Carrie would have agreed to practically anything.
“Finn isn’t going to like this, so I’ll radio him you’re coming.”
“I don’t expect he’ll have the welcome mat out.”
“You’ve got two things against you.”
“Is that all?”
“First, you’re a woman, and second, you’re a reporter. Make that three things.”
“Three?”
“Yes. You’re bringing him something from his mother. He doesn’t want any reminders of her.”
“So she said.” Curiosity got the best of her. “Not that I want you to change your mind, but can you tell me why you’re helping me?”
The bush pilot shrugged. “I’ll probably regret it. Finn’s a good friend, but it’s time he broadened his horizons some, and you, pretty lady, might be just the ticket.”
“Whatever the reason, I’m grateful.”
“Finn will probably stop speaking to me, but he’ll get over it eventually,” Sawyer continued. “I feel I should warn you, though; he’s bound to be as inviting as a wolverine.”
“Got it. Any other advice?”
Sawyer scratched the side of his head. “I wouldn’t start off mentioning the ring and his mother.” He gave her the once-over a second time. “You pack anything practical for the weather?”
“I live in Chicago. It freezes there.”
He snorted as if to cover a laugh. “You’ve got fifteen minutes. Make use of them.” He pointed in the direction of the airport, and Carrie took off running. She wasn’t sure what she’d need, but with the help of the clerk picked up a couple of pieces of gear, including a hat and thick scarf. It seemed extravagant to purchase anything else, seeing that she intended to be in Alaska only a short while.
By the time she returned, Sawyer had moved the plane out of the hangar and had the engine running. “You ready?” he asked.
Because she was winded and excited, she only nodded.
“Okay, climb inside. We need to get going.”
“Right now?” She’d hoped to have a few moments to gather herself.
“Yes, now,” he snapped. “There’s limited light, and with the coming storm, that window is closing. Ready or not, I’m leaving.”
“I’m ready.” Carrie had never flown in a private plane, but that one small detail wasn’t about to stop her. She eyed the Cessna, sucked in a deep breath, and loaded her suitcase. It wasn’t easy climbing inside and locking the passenger door. Carrie was relieved she’d worn her jeans, and thankfully her boots had only a moderate heel.
Within a few minutes they were airborne, circling the airport and heading due north. Carrie clung to her purse as if that would save her from imminent danger and held her breath several times when the plane rocked after encountering moderate turbulence. Sawyer had handed her a pair of headphones, but he wasn’t much for conversation, preoccupied as he was with flying the plane. He radioed Finn twice but wasn’t able to reach him. Although Sawyer didn’t say so, Carrie had the feeling he already regretted agreeing to this. Fearing anything she said might do more harm than good, she remained silent until it was clear that he was preparing to land.
“Where’s the airstrip?” she asked, studying the landscape below. In the dim light, all she could see were snow and trees.
“Airstrip?” Sawyer repeated incredulously. “I’m not landing on any strip. Didn’t I already mention I’d be landing on a lake?”
Set on convincing him to fly her to Finn, Carrie didn’t remember that part of their conversation. A lake? A frozen lake? Peering through the window, she couldn’t make out anything but snow. She gasped out loud when the plane’s wheels bounced against the ice and skidded sideways out of control.
Sawyer didn’t cut the engine but guided the Cessna to the lake’s center and turned toward her.
“Under normal conditions, I’d escort you to Finn’s cabin. Unfortunately, I’m headed directly into that storm, and I don’t have the time to spare. You can see his cabin over there,” he said, pointing in the distance.
Carrie squinted in the fading light. “Is it far?”
“You’ll happen upon it soon enough. If Finn isn’t there, make yourself at home, and have him contact me.” He snickered. “Actually, no need, he’ll be in touch, I’m sure. You going to be okay?”
Carrie nodded, swallowed hard, and put on a good front. “I was a Girl Scout. I’ll be fine.” She could see the outline of the cabin through the thick, fat flakes that had already started to fall. Sawyer needed to get back in the air as quickly as possible.
“Good luck,” he said, and it sounded as if he meant it.
“We’ll square up with what I owe you when you return tomorrow.”
“Sure, whatever. But like I said, with the weather, it might be a day or two.”
Carrie bit into the soft flesh of her inner lip. “Okay.” She was grateful he had brought her this far and would count her blessings.
He hit the throttle, which was her signal to get going. Carrie opened the plane’s door and climbed out, but not with a lot of grace. She retrieved her small suitcase and the bag of gear she’d bought and stood back as the plane immediately accelerated across the frozen lake. The wind and snow whipped across Carrie’s face with such ferocity that it felt as if she were being stuck with needles.
Other than her brief time in the hangar when she’d first met Sawyer, she hadn’t been exposed to the Alaskan elements, and they were as brutal as the bush pilot had warned. Her coat, which had been all the protection she needed in Chicago, felt useless. Already she was so cold she had started to shake. Within moments her toes had lost all feeling. Wrapping her new scarf around her head and face, she started walking in the direction of the cabin.
With the plane airborne now, the thin layer of snow settled down on the thick ice, and in the distance Carrie saw a twisting tail of smoke. That had to be coming from Finn’s cabin.
Carrie hunched her shoulders as close to her head as she could manage, and even through the protection of her gloves, it felt as if her hands were exposed to the raw elements. The ice was uneven, and dragging her suitcase wasn’t an easy task. With her hands numb, she twice dropped the suitcase handle and had to stop and pick it back up.
She hadn’t even met Finn and already she’d started to feel as if this was a terrible mistake. Everything had happened so quickly, and when she did meet him she wasn’t sure what she would say to convince him to give her an interview.
Suddenly it started to snow with such ferocity that she couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her. The wind drove it sideways, and with her head bowed she struggled against the elements until she heard what sounded like a wild beast. Looking up, Carrie squinted, and what she saw caused her heart to shoot up to her throat. It was an animal, a wolf, and he was racing toward her at an alarming pace.
Dropping her suitcase, Carrie did the only thing she could think to do. She started running. The wind made it nearly impossible to make headway as she strained against the force of it.
Then it happened. She stumbled and fell face-first onto the ice.
Before she could right herself, the wolf was nearly on top of her.
Screaming, she twisted around and bunched her fists, determined to do what she could to save her life.