Dinah Harris has been living in my head for some years now. She bounces around in there like some kind of sarcastic alter-ego, usually making dryly ironic observations and comments. She is easy to misinterpret, to take her one-liners delivered with a straight face as an insult. It’s not until you get to know her that you realise how witty she is. Yet one of her biggest flaws is that she doesn’t let people get to know her and so she lives in virtual isolation. I suspect that she is like many people in our society who go to work, do their shopping, pay their bills, even go to church or social events and yet are dying inside from loneliness. She has a job, and she talks to people during the day. But she never really talks to anyone.
Writers are often asked if their main characters are based on themselves. I can only speak for myself. Dinah Harris certainly has some elements of my personality. She also has many personality traits that I’ve observed in different people over the years. She is not me, but she is a very good friend of mine.
Dinah Harris’s first adventure takes place in Deadly Disclosures. In this first book, she is an FBI agent assigned to the task of investigating a high-profile missing person, the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. She is a reluctant agent. She is wrestling with demons from her past and she is weighed by a heavy burden.