I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

When transsexual starlet Aisling is murdered, Detective Geraldine Meyers is assigned the case. With help from medical examiner Dr. Rachel Hunter, Gerri realizes this is no ordinary killing. While she might not want to call in over-eager anthropologist Dr. Kinsey DanAllart, the detective is forced to trust her friend's expertise in symbology, even though doing so means admitting "weird" things might be happening in Silver City. As the three friends unravel the mystery of the dancer's death, one thing is made absolutely apparent--something isn't right in their new hometown. And someone is doing everything they can to make sure the truth doesn't come out.

In Silver City, sometimes friendship can be murder.

Nightshade Cases

Roxy paced beside the dumpster, hands gripping her little purse close to her chest. She ran one hand over the stubble on her cheek, hating she hadn't had time to go home and shave. The bitch who did her laser treatments missed far too much hair for Roxy's liking.


Why was she thinking about grooming at a time like this?


She peeked around the filthy garbage container, nose wrinkling. The message said to meet here, the implications not lost to her. But this was her only chance to make things right.


The shadow fell over her before she realized she wasn't alone. Immediately, she stumbled back, lips trembling, violet eyes filling with tears as her hands flexed convulsively around the clutch.


"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Or Aisling." She tried a shaking smile. "You have to protect me," she said, taking a step closer. "They killed her, I know it." She glanced down the alley, then back, tears, the first real ones she'd shed since as long as she could remember, trailing down her face. That detective bought her emotion, she could see it in Meyers's stance, the way she watched Roxy. And while she'd been sad about poor Crystal, she'd been more worried about her own hide to be that broken hearted.


Her own skin, on the other hand? That she would cry over.


She saw the knife only a moment before it fell, not long enough to yell, to run, to avoid the sharp blade. Roxy's lips parted, the last of her tears coursing down her face as she fell beneath the knife, understanding at last she'd come to the wrong person for protection.


Chapter 16