St. Martin's Paperbacks
The phone rang.
It was her ex-husband, Dennis James, the car salesman who lived in Florida. He had just received a call from a woman in the coroner's office in Las Vegas.
She was asking about Melissa, their daughter.
THE FIRE COULD BE SEEN FOR MILES, BURNING IN the black nothingness of the desert. A frigid December wind had kicked up, temperatures hovering just above freezing, sand and dust blowing everywhere.
There's a reason they called this Sandy Valley Road.
One gust and the tinder-dry brush could catch fire, and then Dick Draper would