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“Joanne?”

A woman’s voice, stiff with discomfort. It took me a few seconds to place it. Then I got to my feet, staring westward, suddenly feeling like I, too, could see the dark mythic clouds on the horizon. “Sarah?”

Sarah Isaac, née Buchanan, my high school best friend and worst enemy, now married to the man who’d fathered my children, exhaled so sharply I moved the phone from my ear for an instant. Caitríona, alerted by my tone, got up while I brought the phone back to my ear, afraid to miss whatever could possibly be forcing Sarah to call. “I got your number from a Captain Morrison at the police department,” she said, still stiffly. “I told him I was the FBI agent from the cannibal case in December.”

“Sarah, what the hell is wrong? Are you okay? Is Lucas okay?”

“I’m fine. We’re fine. We’re in North Carolina.”

I suddenly felt like a tower of building blocks, like the game where blocks are removed until the tower tumbles. One of my blocks, way down at the base, had just been removed, and it was only a matter of time until I fell.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. Sarah waited five whole seconds, then said, “It’s your Dad, Joanne. He’s missing. You need to come home.”

Acknowledgments

I dedicated this book to my mom because she was the first person who wanted to know Sheila MacNamarra’s story, but the acknowledgments for this book are all about her because I would not have gotten it written if she had not been there to rely on as a babysitter. I am utterly and completely in her debt for the hours she put in watching her new grandson, and my readers should appreciate her for it, too.

Also, hats off to my dad, who did the first edit pass on this particular book, and who, as always, caught stuff that nobody else notices. Seriously, have I mentioned how completely awesome my family is? Because they are. Totally awesome. Especially Ted, who keeps right on being the best husband any writer could ask for.

While we’re fiddling with the hat, a hat-tip to my other usual suspects: Trent, agent Jenn, editor Matrice and especially the Word Warriors, whose unflagging war room presence makes sitting down at the keyboard every day so much easier. Laura Anne, Mikaela, Robin, you guys in particular: *hearts*.