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Fleeced

Carol Higgins Clark
Chapters (84)
  1. Acknowledgments
  2. FLEECED
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
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  40. 38
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  84. About the Author

ALSO BY CAROL HIGGINS CLARK

Deck the Halls

(with Mary Higgins Clark)

Twanged

Iced

Snagged

Decked

1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

SCRIBNER and design are trademarks of
Macmillan Library Reference USA, Inc., used under license
by Simon & Schuster, the publisher of this work.

ISBN 0-7432-1577-X

Acknowledgments

I am pleased to acknowledge the people who have been “gems” in offering their encouragement and support in the writing of this book.

Special thanks to Roz Lippel, my editor and friend, who has guided me with her insight and advice every step of the way.

I’d also like to thank my agent, Nick Ellison, and foreign rights director, Alicka Pistek. I am continually grateful to my publicist, Lisl Cade.

Praise goes to art director John Fulbrook, associate director of Copyediting Gypsy da Silva, and copyeditor Carol Catt.

Finally, thanks to my family and friends, especially my mother, Mary Higgins Clark, who knows how joyous it is to finally reach the point of writing the acknowledgments.

You’re all flawless diamonds.

For my mother, Mary Higgins Clark,
and my stepfather, John Conheeney,
with love

FLEECED

1

Regan Reilly glanced out the window of the plane she’d been on for the last five hours, thrilled to finally spot the skyline of Manhattan. It’s great to be back, she thought. This is where I belong. For a lot of reasons. Not the least of which was her new beau—the head of the Major Case Squad in New York City—one Jack Reilly, who thank God was no relation.

A private investigator in Los Angeles, thirty-one-year-old Regan was planning to attend the crime convention that her mother, mystery writer Nora Regan Reilly, had organized with a handful of her fellow authors. Regan’s father, Luke, the owner of three funeral homes in New Jersey, would be there too. It was at Christmastime, when her father had been kidnapped, that Regan had met Jack Reilly. They’d been involved in a coast-to-coast romance for three months.

“I’d do anything that would result in your happiness, Regan,” Luke had joked—more than once since he was safely home—“even be kidnapped.”

Yes, Jack makes me happy, Regan mused as the wheels of the plane smoothly hit the pavement and the pilot taxied to the gate with no delays.