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