Gregory Carrico is a former dental practice management consultant and software trainer. Abandoning his dream of working the daily grind until death, he was forced into the thankless life of a fiction writer. Now an Amazon.com Best Selling horror and science fiction writer, as well as a 2013 HFA Author of the Year Finalist, he finds a small degree of succor in crafting despicable bad guys and then tricking readers into caring about them.
When not creating new worlds and plotting their destruction, he advocates for adopting rescue dogs, and politely urges slower drivers to get out of the passing lane.
"I think I see what they're doing," Wayne said. "They need my help, but they can't officially come to me for it. So, they arrested me on charges that won't stick, and if I cooperate, I might find those charges dropped. Is it something like that?"
Her smile was both amused and sympathetic. "You were a good detective before the crash. But now? A convicted killer. A parolee who's lost two jobs in a week--fired by your best friend, to boot. A drunk. A shell of a man with severe psychiatric problems and holes in your memory a Cadillac could drive through. They don't want your help, Wayne. They think you are involved. If you can't convince them otherwise, you'll disappear into the bowels of some secret government agency, and they will find out what you know."
"I don't drink." It was the best he could do. The rest was technically accurate, except for the terrorist part. Being true didn't make hearing those cursory assessments of his identity any less painful and humiliating.
"I know," Elaine continued. "All of that aside, I want to help you. Partly because I need your help in return. You won't be able to give me help from prison or a secret jail cell in a foreign embassy."
He nodded and started to speak, but she cut him off. "I don't know how much time I have right now. I need you to answer my questions honestly and thoroughly. I'm going to help you remember, just like I did in prison. Even if my questions seem strange or unimportant, just answer them. When we finish, I'll pull my strongest strings to get you out of here. Okay?"
"Yes, of course," he said. "I'll do whatever you want. You know that."
"That's good, Wayne," she said. Her voice was warm velvet. It slipped between the rough places in his head and soothed his nerves. His mind still felt a little off, but she had always been able to help him before, even when the sand started pouring in.
She pulled a tablet computer and a phone from her bag and set them on the table between them. He recognized the phone as his.
"It's 2:32 AM. Time to remember."
To read more: Get your own copy of The Shadow of the World (Sand 1) http://www.amazon.com/Shadow-World-Sand-ebook/dp/B00EZ4TAWQ/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1379197803&sr=1-3