The road before her is twisted.She is looking for them. A doctor. A lawyer. A murderer. They are somewhere out there, in front of her, where the roads wind and wander, where routes end and new avenues begin. There is a map beside her, but she stopped following that long ago. Some journeys have no blueprint. There are turns and detours, dead ends and tricky mazes. The labyrinth called America is a tricky turnpike to travel.She knows just two things as she stares into the white blizzard that nearly obscures the winding street in front of her. There was a beginning. She started this journey in San Diego, but it really all began long before that. Others were on this quest before she joined the pilgrimage east. And there will be an end. But the end isn't so easy as the beginning. The way may become long and dangerous. One can become lost. How many ever get to the place where they belong?Some paths take one to a place of wonder: a location made of wishes and ambition, a better place than home. Many people work hard to get to these ends. Some work for it their entire lives. And then there are the places one finds when they lose their way: scary places fraught with foreignness and ferocity. Most folks end up there without really meaning to. But some actually search it out. They head down that one-way road with reckless abandon.There are each of these types before her, somewhere along the long course: A doctor. His wife. A murderer.And Janet Dice has to follow the twisted road to find them.