And he crushed the phone as if it were made of marshmallow crème, and dropped the smashed pieces on the patio table.
“Oh,” I said faintly. “Problem solved.”
On the horizon, the fire in Alligator Alley continued to glow. I discovered that I didn’t care at all.
But I did when I woke up, hours later, to the sound of sirens screaming, and David telling me that it was time to go, because my apartment complex was on fire.
That was it. I was never going on vacation.
Ever.
About the Author
Rachel Caine is the author of more than twenty novels, including the Weather Warden series. She was born at White Sands Missile Range, which people who know her say explains a lot. She has been an accountant, a professional musician, and an insurance investigator, and still carries on a secret identity in the corporate world. She and her husband, fantasy artist R. Cat Conrad, live in Texas with their iguanas, Popeye and Darwin, a mali uromastyx named (appropriately) O’Malley, and a leopard tortoise named Shelley (for the poet, of course). Visit her Web site at www.rachelcaine.com.
