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Charles,” doing their best-worst posh accents. It was the same every time.
    “Jace, Geoff,” Charlie said back.
    “She’s over there, stud,” Jace said, nodding his head toward the booths at the back.
    He was the one with the slightly larger beard. That’s the only way Charlie had learned to tell them apart.
    Charlie gave him a “Keep your voice down, fool” face, which elicited a laugh from the pair and a disappointed scowl from Patty. Looks like he’d have to leave a bigger tip later to keep her sweet.
    Charlie weaved in and out of the narrow path between booths and stools. An elbow came out from the left, nudging him in the ribs. A bottle of beer was in the elbower’s hand: his favorite imported ale.
    “What the … How did you know?”
    Pippa grinned up at him from within the booth. “Like you could go climbing with a discovery like this rattling around in that empty head of yours. I thought you’d at least reach the apartment before you changed your mind.”
    The bottle was cold in his hand.
    He took a deep swig and slid opposite his boss, putting the half-drained bottle on the table, avoiding the carpet of paper and files she had spread out on its surface. She reminded him of one of those off-duty detectives who couldn’t leave a case alone and took it with them everywhere, looking for that crucial loose end, that missed but vital piece of information.
    “It’s in here somewhere,” he said, using his best Columbo accent, realizing he was both terrible at it and completely out of time. All the cool kids were doing Horatio Caine one-liners these days apparently.
    Pippa groaned. Shook her head. “Don’t you watch anything newer than the early ‘80s?”
    “Don’t watch TV. Don’t have time. Except for our productions, of course.”
    “Liar. Who did we get to present the Rogue Pharaohs of Egypt production?”
    “Umm … it was that woman, you know, the one with the hair. She was in that thing with that other woman …”
    “You mean Zahi Hawass, the superstar Egyptologist … A guy.”
    “Yeah, that’s the one.” Charlie flashed her a smile.
    “Zahi is a megastar in the field. You really ought to brush up on this kind of stuff. You never know who might drop into the office.” She took a sip from her beer and avoided eye contact.
    That was her way of putting him in his place.
    He’d come to recognize it over the years.
    The “not looking at you while I’m being the boss” effect started out with her getting tired of him leaving ropes and carabiners laying around on her sofa or his various outdoors pursuits magazines piled up in the bathroom.
    It crept in at the office too. There was no problem when she was giving someone else a piece of her mind.
    Her forthrightness was one of the many things he liked about her. Her ability to communicate her thoughts and ideas helped get her to her current position in life.
    With Charlie though, she was different. Tempered, almost coy.
    Charlie took the advice onboard and finished his beer. He felt a bit stupid now. Although he was technically excellent at his job, he had to admit that it wasn’t his true love or focus in life.
    That would be the outdoors. He’d much rather be climbing down into caves to look at the rocks, feel them with his own bare hands, than survey them from above with GPR. Even during his time in the National Guard, he would prefer the weekends away on training out in the wilds than back at the barracks doing endless drills.
    Again, technically, he was excellent. He wondered if that wasn’t actually part of his problem; things came too easy to him at times, and he lost focus.
    Nature wasn’t easy. Nature wasn’t something you could conquer like stripping and cleaning a rifle or running acres of radar surveys. It required respect and a humility to know you’re not top dog.
    Being in the wild outdoors taught him that.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I sometimes don’t focus on the everyday details as much as I