Carly thought it a bad sign in a day that had been filled with them. The storm had started an hour after she left Phoenix behind and with each mile it became fiercer, more determined to make the simple three hour drive from Phoenix a harrowing passage. When she’d left her apartment, it had been ninety-six degrees out—in October for heaven’s sake. But now the temperatures had plunged and the pelting rain looked slushy. And it was cold, even for the mountains of northern Arizona. Cold enough to turn the rain into snow at any minute. Snow, on Halloween. It was unheard of. Beyond the blacktop, the mountains sloped and peaked. A fire that had burned out of control in the summer had destroyed thousands of acres and thick patches of blackened pines poked from the swamped earth like corpses in a Wes Craven horror fest. Beside them, pockets of healthy growth thrived, giving the scenery an eerie patchwork effect. At last she saw the sign: Canyon Veil, Two Miles. She slowed, searching for any trace of Jillian’s BMW.
