My travels continue. I am still that humble cane who lands in the right place with the person in need of my assistance.
Oh, the places we’ll go!
We'll experience extreme glacier trekking, see more of the desert southwest and visit poor Mexican villages. We'll be deep blue water yachting and traveling coast to coast by train, riding on a big rig to South Carolina, and even going on pursuit of sacred water.
In the human experience, I have no choice where I land. Most of the people I assist are delightful. Some are difficult.
This time is different. My charges will feel the need to give or seek forgiveness. This can be challenging. It’s a deeply soul-searching process as humans must dig deep to find and resolve the conflict in their souls.
Some tragedy? Yes. But they will realize peace for all involved.
While enduring a life sentence and with nothing left to live for, inmate George McClendon carves what appears to be a quite ordinary cane. Rather plain. Sturdy, but a bit crooked.
And, very much alive.
Are you curious?
I am that cane. I seem to be left behind at the right place, at the right time, and for the right person in need of my assistance.
My journeys continue as I begin to understand both tenderness and dismay when communicating with humans. This deeper appreciation expands far beyond the spoken words that bring goodness, delight, despair, and magic along my traveling way.
I’m but a mere cane. With a heart.
The patriarch and owner of a two-billion-dollar NFL franchise is dying. Paul Childs, whether in wisdom or in wickedness, leaves behind an unusually cruel family trust. A trust that contains a Last Man Standing clause: only the single last survivor of his seven children will be heir to his fortune.
One heir-apparent sees that her siblings are being killed one by one, and fears she might be next. She knows she needs help, but she won’t get the kind of help she needs from the police.
The case has no legal legs, yet Tucson’s gutsy private investigator, Cassidy Clark, dives into it headfirst, intrigued by both her client’s pleas and the well-known family name. There’s nothing like a depraved display of sibling rivalry over one of the greatest motives.
Feisty private investigator Cassidy Clark teams up with her old college friend, attorney Breecie Lemay, as urgent matters take them to Italy.
They ride the fast trains between Rome, Florence, and beyond. With more questions than answers about the death of their mutual friend, they journey to Tuscany and Sienna, and into the walled ancient city of Monteriggioni.
Train tracks. Muddied tire tracks.
Drugs and their Lords.
While she knew of their existence in Tucson even prior to Joseph ‘Bananas’ Bonanno, Cassidy never dreamed she’d be investigating the mob.
It is no dream.
It’s her worst nightmare.
Jaxon Giles’ beloved dog is dead. He can’t prove it, but he knows who killed Gecko. His stalking ex-wife wants to take away anything and anyone he loves.
Private investigator Cassidy Clark agrees to run surveillance, while in the midst of helping the city of Tucson.
Women are disappearing. Gone. Were they murdered? Kidnapped and being held captive? A cult that enticed them to leave all belongings behind?
Without bodies and any crime scenes, there is no DNA. No evidence. No trace.
Skin isn’t the only game in town, but for plastic surgeon Marcus Armstrong, it’s his passion and his profit.
Sterling Falls’ grand opening isn’t going as planned. Instead she sees a gun-yielding man shot dead on her new jewelry showroom floor, and the woman that mortally wounded him? A bag lady.
Not the first two customers Sterling envisioned.
Feeling neglected by the man that brought her to Tucson, she enjoyed the attention of the handsome plastic surgeon. After all, what harm could there be in his flirtations? She had sold him an $80,000 engagement ring. What woman could say no?
Just when romance author Chyna Blaze decides to give up her life of fear and anxiety, and the inevitable panic-attacks that ensue, she faces a new problem.
Her peers are being knocked-off, one at a time, and the persistent detective insists she’s high on the list.
When her publicist arranges for a couple of fake dates with the well-known literary giant, she finds the idea annoying but harmless.
Orson Locke had given up writing years ago, but he isn’t giving up any of his vices. He likes his sugar straight out of the cans of white icing, chased by plenty of bourbon. He likes his Poe. And he likes his temptations well-sated.
He prays for prey. His prayers have just been answered.
Lauren Visconti loses everyone she loves. They don’t walk out the door. They die. The Lauren Visconti Curse.
Her in-your-face magazine, CoverBoy, might have crossed a few lines. Now it appears the curse has morphed. Now anyone Lauren has any emotion toward, good or bad, is doomed to be slaughtered.
Success came with the magazine’s dichotomy—photos of almost naked men juxtaposed between serious investigative reporting. Her articles run true stories. Most readers had heard of sex-slave trafficking. Most didn’t know it occurred in their own backyards. Some readers knew about podiatry mutilations—the hacking off of elongated second toes and even the total amputation of little toes, all in order to fit into the expensive designer shoes.
Very few had heard about revirgination. CoverBoy’s articles named names. The Obeah Voodoo scared Lauren. But could it help save her? More likely any help would come from the handsome psychologist.
This is what Lauren had to believe.
After her estranged father suffers a stroke, D.C. attorney Breecie Lemay arrives in the sleepy town of Trinidad, Colorado to attend to his needs.
While staying at the B&B, Breecie meets and befriends the most unlikely of other guests and not like anyone she’d ever met in Washington.
As she balances her career and a high-profiled fiancé long-distance, Breecie soon recognizes one of her father’s old tricks. A safe built into the staircase of his home.
She fears the gun hidden in her father’s staircase safe is the same weapon that killed her mother. In search of the truth, she’s thrust into a world of her father’s only true legacy… lies.
Warnings become death threats because she knows too much.
She knows nothing.
She can trust no one.