Stories are the creatures that forage in the wilderness of our minds. Their claws pierce our curiosity, digging in deep to prevent our escape, as they force us into their maw, past razor-sharp teeth of conflict.
Ricky’s first ever kiss was deftly delivered by Betty-Jo Kopecki, a camp counselor three years his senior, with enough body English to make his legs wobble. To her, it was a one-off thing, done on a dare but to him it was a torrid summer camp fling and her kiss would be the high-water mark all others were measured against.
It was going to be one of those cases.
The air reeked of sulfur as the last drops of brimstone fell through the shattered skylight, creating puddles in the remnant of the shag carpet that ruined Det. Elodie Arcement’s shoes as she stepped into the apartment of the smote.
She hated biblical crime scenes.