Second Grave on the Left (Charley Davidson, #2)

by Darynda Jones

With a sigh, I realized I was getting way too much exercise. I’d just have to counteract it later with cake.

“Be back in a few,” he said, as cheerful as a mental patient on suicide watch.

“Because you’re the reason I breathe.”

The implementation of a maximum-security program would not only deter future kidnappings, but it would also boost my self-esteem, and an esteemed self is a happy self.

“Exorcism. No need to worry, sir.”

“Well, it didn’t help that Casper the Flashlight Ghost was all up in your face.”