Wish Come True A Carson Springs Novel

CHAPTER ONE Anna Vincenzihad never seen so many reporters. Not even in the days when her sister's every move was gobbled up by millions hungry for the smallest scrap-or in the aftermath of the accident that had left Monica paralyzed from the waist down. They swarmed like insects at the end of the drive, where it emptied onto Old Sorrento Road, jockeying for position, Minicams and boom mikes poised to strike. Lining the road were interchangeable white panel trucks sprouting satellite dishes and antennae nearly as tall as the surrounding sycamores. A blond female anchor decorously holding a microphone to her glossy lips stood with her back to the hedge in the glare of a handheld re-flector while a scruffy-looking cameraman filmed her stand-up. For a disoriented instant, as the patrol car bumped its way down the pot-holed drive amid a boiling cloud of dust, Anna felt as though she were watching it all on TV. Then someone shouted, "It's her!" and all hell broke loose. Panic sluiced through her in an icy wave as bodies surged around the car, slowing it to a crawl. Knuckles rapped against her window and faces loomed into view, distorted by the sun's glare glancing off the dust-streaked glass. A man's voice bellowed, "Anna! Can you comment on your arrest?" Another one rasped, "Did ya do it? Did you kill her, Anna?" The cop behind the wheel, a heavyset middle-aged man with pale creases on the back of his tanned neck, swore. "Christ. Don't they feed these animals?" Anna wanted to shout, I'm innocent! This is all a mistake! But when she reached for the button to roll her window down she once more became aware of the handcuffs holding her shackled at the wrists, and stopped short. That was when it sank in: She was under arrest. Which was why, on this sunny day in April, with the daylilies in bloom and the acacia snowing yellow blossoms over the mailbox-which leaned drunkenly, a legacy from when Finch had been learning to drive-she was on her way downtown to be booked. A wave of dizziness spiraled up and the world went pale and grainy, like the snowy reception on the old black-and-white Zenith in her mother's bedroom. She thought, This isn't happening. In fact, the past few days had been nothing short of surreal-starting early Friday morning with the hysterical call from Arcela. Even with all that had happened since, it still hadn't sunk in. How could her sister be dead? It was like trying to grasp that the planet had spun off its axis. It was 70 degrees outside but Anna was chilled to the bone. With some difficulty-the handcuffs made even the slightest movement ungainly-she drew about her a sweater that she'd grabbed from the closet on her way out the door and that was several sizes too big. She must have forgotten to pack it up with the rest of her fat clothes. Her mouth flickered in a small ironic smile. And she'd thought being overweight was her biggest worry. The patrol car slowed to a near standstill. Vic Purdy, in the passenger seat, a veteran cop with more than thirty years under his belt-one that over time had had to be let out a few notches to accommodate his ever-expanding girth-rolled his window down to bark, "Move it along, folks! You'll all get your chance down at the courthouse!" A set of meaty fingers hooked over Vic's partially lowered window and a face loomed into view, only its upper half visible: a pair of beady eyes peering from under an australopithecine brow. "Anna! Did ya do it for the money? Your sister must've left you a bundle." The fingers were snatched back just in time to keep them from being caught in the window as it whirred up. The cop behind the wheel muttered another curse and gunned the engine. They jerked forward, the throng fanning out on either side, then with a final lurch over the worst of the potholes, in which every spring at least one hapless motorist became mired, they were on the roadGoudge, Eileen is the author of 'Wish Come True A Carson Springs Novel', published 2003 under ISBN 9780670032167 and ISBN 0670032166.