Sometimes things happen and we think, “I should write a book about that,” or “that would make a good movie.” I must confess that my life has had some interesting curves in it and many times have thought about penning a book out of this or that. Friends have even suggested such, saying either, “Leave my name out!” or, just as often, “Be sure and spell my name right.

A few years ago, I was involved in the search for my niece who went missing. My brother was beyond distraught, and I couldn’t just stand by while he suffered. I’d want someone to help me, if the tables were turned. The bits of information we’d discover concerning her disappearance grew scarier with each passing day as the search continued. A sense of urgency gripped us all, squeezing our insides until they hurt.

When all was said and done, I felt compelled to share the story. In my research, however, I found that the circumstances surrounding my niece’s kidnapping were far from rare, and I compiled many “stories” into one, ultimately writing a novel about the perils of the Mexican drug cartel and young Americans in Tijuana.

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