There were bigger things to talk about.

Due to the monumental coincidence of timing, Anna Chu always associated the aliens with her daughter. When she told people that, they smiled and laughed, assuming that it was just because she found out that she was pregnant on the same day that the first alien arrived. No one ever asked if there was more to it than that, which was fine because Anna wasn’t sure she wanted to explain that it wasn’t only the timing. It was the fact that …

The Posthumous Novel of
Edward L. Heard


“There were supposed to be six books, but he only wrote five before he died.”

Becca bit back a gasp when the shade broker stepped out of nowhere and into her condo kitchen. For a second, Becca saw her mother in the broker’s stout figure and pulled-back wavy hair, and she felt a pang of loss again.

But this was a stranger, with a sharp chin and a conservative but fashionable pantsuit. The shade broker sat down on the breakfast nook bench and pulled a rustling stack of parchment from her briefcase. “I understand you would like to trade…”



This was it — everything she needed in a single case.

‘What’s his name?’

Gail Whitman peered through the one-way glass at the small, barren room. A man sat alone amid the whitewashed concrete walls, neon striplight buzzing above his head. If the furniture wasn’t bolted down he would have tipped himself over onto the floor by now, but instead he sat chewing on one pink dreadlock, rocking back and forth to the rhythm in his head.

‘Your phone can tell you.’ Detective Ruckley tapped…