Dawn in Eclipse Bay

disaster. If our identities as secret agents were exposed, it would ruin any chance of us helping you out with future undercover work.”
    Lillian was almost to the door. “Wouldn’t want that.”
    “True,” Arizona said. “Never know when we might have to call on you two again.”

    She knew that something was bothering Gabe. The amusement that had carried him through last night’s investigation and this morning’s debriefing with Arizona had vanished. When she had called him to suggest a walk on the beach a short while ago, he had agreed, but she could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere.
    He had met her at the top of the beach path. She had noticed immediately that the cool, remote quality was back. At least she had finally figured out that the withdrawn air did not automatically indicate major depression or burnout. It meant that he was doing some heavy-duty thinking.
    At last. Progress in the quest to understand the deeper elements of Gabriel Madison’s enigmatic nature.
    He moved easily beside her, his jacket collar pulled up around his neck, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. She recognized this brooding mood, she suddenly realized. She had experienced it often enough herself. It came upon her at times when she was struggling to find the key to the inner vision of a picture. She wondered why she had never understood the similarity before.
    She did not try to draw him out of whatever distant space he was exploring. Instead she contented herself with setting an energetic pace for both of them. The tide was out, exposing small, rocky pools. She picked a route through the driftwood and assorted debris that had been deposited by the last storm.
    Gabe did not speak until they had almost reached Eclipse Arch, the rock monolith that dominated the beach.
    “How well do you know Flint?” he asked without any preamble.
    The question took her by surprise.
    “Anderson?” She came to a halt. “Not well at all. He moved into the same office building in Portland about six months ago. Like I said, we had some conversations of a professional nature. That’s about it.”
    “You told me that he wanted to buy your matchmaking program.”
    She shrugged. “And I explained to him that it wasn’t for sale.”
    “Maybe he figured he could get it another way,” Gabe said.
    “What other way is there?” Then it hit her. “Good grief. You don’t really think Anderson would try to…to steal it, do you? But—”
    “I checked with the college public affairs office this morning. There is no conference of any kind scheduled at Chamberlain this week or next. Flint lied when he said that he was in town to attend a professional seminar.”
    “Are you absolutely sure?”
    “Yes.”
    She started walking again, mulling over the possibilities. “Okay, maybe he made up the story about being here for a conference. I can see where he might have followed me to try to talk me into selling him the program. But it’s hard to envision him actually breaking into my apartment and the cottage.”
    “Why? You’ve got something he wants. You refused to sell it to him. In his mind that might not leave a lot of options.”
    “Yes, but—” She trailed off, trying to sort out the logic. “Anderson is a sex therapist, for heaven’s sake.”
    “He hasn’t been one for long.”
    That stopped her in her tracks. “I beg your pardon?”
    “After I called Chamberlain, I talked to some people I know in Portland and went online for some research. The institution that issued Flint’s professional credentials is a mail-order outfit.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It’s a paper mill. You pay them money, they give you a fancy piece of paper.”
    “In other words, his credentials are bogus?”
    “Let’s just say that his alma mater is not real rigorous when it comes to academic standards.”
    She thought about the women she had seen in Anderson’s waiting room. A shudder went through her. “Talk about a lawsuit waiting to happen. And I thought I was on dangerous ground.”
    “Funny you should mention the word lawsuit .”
    “Why?”
    “Turns out that Flint reinvented himself as a sex therapist after he got into legal troubles in his former profession.”
    She groaned. “I’m afraid to ask but I can’t help myself. What did he do before he went into the field of sex therapy?”
    “He headed up a consortium that invested heavily in some Internet ventures that disappeared into thin air.”
    “Are you telling me Anderson