Rick is a lot smarter than I thought he was. And much more wounded. Wendy isn’t a saint. I need to do some more research about gravel pits, particularly in winter. And I need to learn a LOT more about guns. And forensic evidence. I skated by last time by pushing everything off on Rick; but now…here’s Rick, committing a gruesome murder. I love Rachel even more now than I did when writing Waiting For Spring, something I didn’t think was possible. I’m worried, already, about how to market a second novel when the even the briefest plot summary spoils the first novel. I can already see the book’s cover in my mind. I hope I can make it translate. I’ve already chosen the epigraph:
We all were sea-swallow’d,
though some cast again,
And by that destiny to perform an act
Whereof what’s past is prologue,
what to come in yours and my discharge.
– William Shakespeare (The Tempest)