Hiding in Plain Sight, Chapter 1
When Billy Jo thought of Carly Thornton, never in a million years had she pictured a white picket fence.
She parked on the street, looking out at the house, a cute two-story craftsman with teal trim and a front porch with two comfy lounge chairs, a welcoming invitation to come sit and visit. She took a second to check whether she had the right address.
This had to be a joke.
She couldn’t pry her hands from where they were wrapped around her black steering wheel, the car still idling. She took in the houses on both sides of the street, the kind of homes that implied family, community, respectability, where people likely spent Saturdays barbecuing with neighbors.
This had to be the wrong Carly Thornton. But then, the trail had gone cold here after so muc
