Wednesday's Child. Gayle Wilson
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Rave reviews for In Plain Sight
“Gayle Wilson is one of the best romantic suspense writers in the business.”
—Chronicle Herald (Halifax, Nova Scotia)
“In Plain Sight sizzles from start to finish. I couldn’t put it down.”
—New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers
“Wilson’s novel mesmerizes from first page to the last, with chilling twists and a compelling plot.”
—Romantic Times
“Gayle Wilson pulls out all the stops to give her readers a thrilling, chilling read that will give you goose bumps in the night.”
—ReadertoReader.com
More praise for Gayle Wilson
“Gayle Wilson is one of the Divine Ones, a writer who combines impeccable craft with unsurpassed storytelling skills. Her books are dark, sexy and totally involving. I can’t recommend her enough.”
—bestselling novelist Anne Stuart
“Gayle Wilson will go far in romantic suspense. Her books have that special ‘edge’ that lifts them out of the ordinary. They’re always tautly written, a treare trove of action, suspense and richly drawn characters.”
—New York Times bestselling author Linda Howard
“Rich historical detail, intriguing mystery, romance that touches the heart and lingers in the mind. These are the elements which keep me waiting impatiently for Gayle Wilson’s next book.”
—USA TODAY bestselling author BJ James
“Writing like this is a rare treat.”
—Gothic Journal
Also by Gayle Wilson
IN PLAIN SIGHT
DOUBLE BLIND
Wednesday’s Child
Gayle Wilson
Monday’s child is fair of face.
Tuesday’s child is full of grace.
Wednesday child is full of woe.
Thursday’s child has far to go.
Friday’s child is loving and giving.
Saturday’s child works hard for its living.
But the child that’s born on the Sabbath day Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
To Meg Ruley
for her continuing support and enthusiasm
for my work,
for always being there when I need her,
and for having the most wonderful laugh
in the entire world.
Thank you!
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
WORKING FOR an almost artistic perfection, he draped the body over the steering wheel, carefully aligning the top of the head with the starred crack he’d created in the wind-shield. He was almost finished. And as soon as he was—
There was a rustling from the bushes behind him. He backed out of the car so quickly he slammed his head into the top of the door frame. Stifling a curse, he peered into the darkness, hardly daring to breathe. For endless seconds he waited, but there was no repetition of whatever he’d heard.
Coon, he thought. Or maybe a beaver, although he hadn’t heard the distinctive slap and glide into the river. Something that wasn’t human, in any case. And humans were the only witnesses he cared about.
He eased back through the open door of the SUV, being careful this time to duck below its frame. He tried to position the corpse higher over the wheel, but its dead weight and the angle he