Something Wicked

ONE

The late-afternoon sun beat down like a curse. A hundred and two in the

shade. Not that there was any shade. "Go to hell, Ms. Cluny," reclusive

philanthropist Charles Cunningham Nash had said the last time Regan had

pestered him for an interview. And here she freaking was.

A clever woman would have realized fate was conspiring against her when

mechanical difficulties delayed her flight from JFK to Reno. A clever

woman would have taken the hint when her favorite Louis Vuitton bag

vanished into luggage limbo. A clever woman would have said, "Screw this,"

when her rental car's air conditioner gasped its last shortly after she

crossed the California border.

But Regan had persevered.

Huge mistake.

The only thing playing on the radio now was static, the gas gauge was

flirting with empty, and Juniper Basin was nowhere to be seen, even though

according to the MapQuest directions she'd taped

to the Corolla's dash,

she should have been there

already. She must have made a wrong turn

somewhere.

Right. Like the second she'd decided to pursue this story so doggedly ... read full excerpt from Something Wicked ebook