She glances along the road again, as if checking for something before, with a nod, she crosses round in front of the car, opens the passenger door and...slips inside. I close my window and turn to her.“You’ll have to drop me back here afterwards. Is that ok?”Without a word, I put the car in drive and pull away from the kerb.“So how long are we going for?” she asks.“An hour should be time enough. How much?”“A hundred.”With one hand on the wheel, I pull some crumpled notes from the glove. J. McFadden, then Wikipedia, but with no luck. I Googled her and found several sites with mentions of her, but no ‘official site’ or images. I Googled her book’s publisher next and found a ‘contact us’ tab on their web site. I hurriedly sent off an e-mail asking them to forward it to C. J. McFadden, but only if her real name was Calleigh, explaining that I met and dated a girl named Calleigh who strongly resembled the photo on the back of her novel for a couple months the summer after she. More

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