Starry Night

he’s built a shelter and a canoe. From what I’ve read, his stories about Alaskan life and survival in the tundra would kink your hair. Well, not that yours needs curling.”
    This was Sophie’s idea of a joke. Carrie’s wild dark brown curls were the bane of her existence. She tamed them as bestshe could, but she often found herself the brunt of jokes over her out-of-control hair.
    “Nash says he doesn’t give interviews.”
    “Not just doesn’t give interviews—this guy is like a ghost. No one has ever met or even talked to him.”
    “Surely his publisher or his editor—”
    “No,” Sophie said, cutting her off. “Everything has been done by computer.”
    “Well, then …”
    “All anyone knows is that he lives near an Alaskan lake somewhere in the vicinity of the Arctic Circle.”
    “How is it you know so much about this guy?”
    “I don’t, and that’s just it. No one does. The press has gone wild looking for him. Plenty of reporters have tried to track him down, without success. No one knows how to find him, and Finn Dalton doesn’t want to be found. He should have called his book Leave Me Alone . Someone could pass him on the street and never know it was him, and from everything I’ve read, that’s exactly how he likes it.”
    Intrigued, Carrie flipped through the pages of the book. “Nash said I could have any assignment I wanted if I got an interview from Finn Dalton.”
    “Of course he did. Nash has been around long enough to know he’s got you in a no-win situation.”
    Carrie glanced up. “I don’t care. I’m going to try.”
    “I hate to be a killjoy here, but Carrie, no way will youfind this guy. Better reporters than either of us have tried and failed. Every newspaper, magazine, and media outlet is looking to dig up information about him, without success. Finn Dalton doesn’t want to be found.”
    That might be the case, but Carrie refused to give up without even trying. This was far too important to drop just because it was a long shot. “I’m desperate, Sophie.” And really, that said it all. If she was going to have a real career in journalism, she had to find Finn Dalton. Her entire future with the Chicago Herald hung in the balance.
    “I admire your determination,” Sophie murmured, “but I’m afraid you’re going to hit one dead end after another.”
    “That might be the case.” Carrie was willing to admit to her friend that finding Finn Dalton wouldn’t be easy. “But I refuse to quit without trying.” She knew Sophie didn’t mean to be negative. “I want this chance, and if it means tracking Finn Dalton into some forsaken tundra, then I will put on my big-girl shoes and go for it.” But not the heels she’d worn last night, that was for sure.
    The first thing Carrie did in her search for Finn Dalton was read the book. Not once, but three times. She underlined everything that gave her a single hint as to his identity.
    For two days she skipped lunch, spending her time on the computer, seeking any bit of information she could find thatwould help her locate Finn Dalton. She went from one search engine to another.
    “How’s it going?” Sophie asked as they met each other on their way out the door a couple of days later.
    “Good.” Through her fact-finding mission, Carrie was getting a picture of the man who had written this amazing book. After a third read she almost felt as if she knew him. He hadn’t always been a recluse. He’d been raised in Alaska and had learned to live off the land from his father, whom he apparently idolized. One thing was certain, he seemed to have no use for women. In the entire book, not once did he mention his mother or any other female influence. It was more of what he didn’t say that caught Carrie’s attention.
    “Any luck?” Sophie asked, breaking into her thoughts.
    “Not yet.” She hesitated. “Have you read the book?”
    Sophie nodded. “Sure. Nearly everyone has.”
    “Did you notice he has nothing to say about the opposite sex? I have the feeling he distrusts women.”
    Sophie shrugged as if she hadn’t paid much notice, but then she hadn’t been reading between the lines the way Carrie had.
    “How old do you think he is?” Sophie asked.
    “I can’t really say.” Finn was an excellent writer and storyteller. But the tales he relayed could have happened at nearly any point in the last several decades. Current events were skipped over completely.
    Sophie crossed her arms and looked