Vicki Becvar

When children go missing, and the Humans have no leads, I'm the one they call. I am their last hope in bringing home the lost ones. I salvage what they cannot. The FBI wants me on their team. Bad enough that they are dangling bait they know I can't resist. The catch? It’s on the other side of the ocean. And if I want what they’re offering, I have to help them with a salvage gone terribly, terribly wrong. But this time, I have no back up. I have no Plan B. And I have no O’Shea.

Being 40 is supposed to be freaking fabulous, not fatal. Taking on a daunting new job minus the description isn’t the smartest move I’ve ever made, even if it was to save a friend. Hopefully, it doesn’t turn out to be the stupidest...or deadliest. Why can’t things stay the way they were? I love my old job. Supergluing ghosts back together and solving their issues is its own reward. Not to mention, I’m seriously good at it. Although, I must say, I’m ridiculously excited for the new Death Counselor’s arrival in nine months....

"Happily Ever After" wasn't supposed to come with a do-over option. But when my husband of 20 years packs up and heads for greener pastures, and my son heads away to college, that's exactly what my midlife becomes. A do-over. This time, though, I plan to do things differently. Age is just a number, after all, and at 40 I'm ready to carve my own path. Eager for a fresh start, I make a somewhat unorthodox decision and move to a tiny town in the Sierra foothills.