We just received a rare visit by the 17-year “locusts” or, more properly, cicadas. Many people hate their loud, insistent whirring in the trees—and their thumb-sized winged bodies everywhere. I love them. I think they’re beautiful, and love their summer music. Partly, I know I’m fascinated with them because of their long years underground, and…

I think mystery readers—and writers—share a fascination with paths. What will happen if I go down this way? What might I find over that way? Maybe  there’s a body in the tangle of bushes, or an abandoned house behind that crumbling wall. Of course, our paths aren’t always physical. We’re constantly choosing: to go to…