Sitting in a sweater, wrapped in a blanket in my chilly Midwestern apartment Nevada Barr’s fictional Park Service agent, Anna Pigeon, is once again taking me on travels.

“…., Anna paused a minute to breathe in New Orleans in spring after rain. In the mountains and deserts of the West there would be ozone and pine, sage and dust – scents that cleared the head and the vision, made the heart race and the horizon impossibly far away and alluring.

“Here spring’s perfume was lazy and narcotic, hinting of hidden things, languid hours, and secrets whispered on breath smelling of bourbon and mint. In Rocky Mountain National Park, the clean dry air scoured the skin, polished the bone, and honed Anna’s senses to a keen edge. Here it caressed, nurturing flesh with moisture, curling wind-sere hair. It coddled and swathed till believing in dreams and magic seemed inevitable.”

Without exploring the voodoo mystery to come, Anna Pigeon is taking me on other arm chair journeys. I hope you will enjoy traveling with me on Nevada Barr’s lyrical pen.