I think maybe the time has come to make some things public that I haven’t shared before.
No, it’s not a scandal or anything like that.
Instead, it’s the story of what happened. It’s the story of how I started writing books, and why I write the books I write.
It all starts in the backwoods of Maine in the late 1800s. Something happened there that has had a ripple effect across four generations… A young woman died. Some say it was an epidemic. Some say it was poison. Some say it was murder.
