Jill Elizabeth Nelson says “My writer’s journey has taken me in many different directions. I’ve worn the hats of journalist, columnist, essayist, poet, story teller and book reviewer. My current chapeau is the one I’ve coveted all along—novelist. My Guide and Mentor in all my travels is my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. To Him be the glory!”
Her popular “To Catch a Thief” series recently welcomed its newest member: Reluctant Runaway.
Stolen Indian artifacts. . .
A dead museum guard. . .
A missing wife and mom. . .
A baby in mortal danger. . .
Museum security expert Desiree Jacobs and FBI agent Tony Lucano scramble to unearth the horrifying secret that links every incident. The investigation thrusts them into the path of something dark and sinister.
Something that craves blood sacrifice.
From the high society of the U.S. capital to the streets of Desi’s beloved Boston to the mountain desert of New Mexico, Desi and Tony must thwart forces of darkness—relying on God’s guidance and strength—to save a young woman and her baby from a villain more desperate than they can imagine.
READ AN EXCERPT of this book.
Please welcome Jill Elizabeth Nelson!
I thoroughly enjoyed researching Reluctant Runaway. My travels took me to picturesque Albuquerque, New Mexico—a unique high desert topography and climate. The whole trip turned into quite an adventure. A highlight was a visit to the FBI office.
The morning of my Big Day in the Southwestern city with the outlandish name, the hotel van took me to the New Mexico Museum of Anthropology on the university campus. After I finished touring the museum, I called a cab and gave the driver the address. He shot me a puzzled stare, studied a city map, and leveled another stare. Finally, I fessed up and told him it was the FBI headquarters. The light came on in his face.
“Are you with the FBI?” His grin was eager.
Yeah, right. Moi? I should have told him I was a criminal profiler on the trail of a serial killer and step on it. But my innate honesty kicked in before I could think of something that entertaining.
“No,” I said. “I’m too plump and laid back for that job.”
At least he thought my answer rated a chuckle.
We arrived at the FBI headquarters without incident–well, okay, he made a wrong turn once, but who’s counting? Just goes to show the place isn’t along the beaten path.
I’m a little nervous, of course. Here I am about to waltz into an office where they deal with national security issues as a way of life. For little old me from deep rural Minnesota, a speeding ticket is a big deal.
We got to the building and immediately manifested ourselves as clueless civilians by driving up to the guardhouse. The nice uniformed gentleman with the burly muscles patiently directed us to park in the visitor lot. I was to leave my camera and cell phone in the cab, then step up to his window on foot. Once I proved myself a genuine Jane Citizen with proper photo ID that matched my matchless mug, he’d let me in.
All well and good, but about now I’m wondering if they’ll let me back out again. That soaring structure is one intimidating stone fortress, and they wouldn’t let me take a picture, so you’ll have to use your imagination.
Obviously, I did get out again, and they didn’t even interrogate me. Nuts! But I got my share of assessing looks. First of all from the uniformed guard that stood up from his desk as soon as I walked through those darkened glass doors. He was the first thing I noticed, and then the full body metal detector similar to those at the airport.
The vestibule was completely walled in and very small. If I wanted to venture further inside, I would need to get past the guard and the metal detector. Cool! But rats! Since I’d taken care of my business with the media liaison on the phone the day before, I didn’t have any excuse to press onward and upward. But one of these days, I’ll get that opportunity. I’m awaiting the engraved invitation . . . any day now . . .
I left my card with a brief note of thanks to the media liason with the receptionist behind the bullet-proof glass. She, too, gave me an assessing look. I imagine I was a true oddity in their world. Ah, well, maybe I gave them something different to talk about. Maybe not, but I can dream.
