A mysterious illegal immigrant, only known as TWIG, may have the cure to the HIV virus locked in his blood. As information of this revolutionary discovery is leaked, several entities launch a deadly search to find and exploit TWIG’s secrets. This medical thriller unfolds as the CIA enlists former agent, Penny Sears to track down this would-be modern-day miracle. Also, in desperate pursuit is a pharmaceutical giant that will stop at nothing to get this vital information. The fascinating combination of art and science explodes in THE TWIG PAINTER as Penny is charged with finding TWIG while protecting her family from the dangerous, high-stakes game in which she finds herself immersed. The clock is ticking...
“THE TWIG PAINTER is a story of international intrigue, stretching from Lisbon to Boston and Chicago. It provides a behind-the-scenes look at the extremes pharma companies might go to protect their financial interests even in the face of new hope to cure AIDS. A great read.”
Howard Wolinsky, formerly the medical reporter at the Chicago Sun-Times
JERRI SHER, a twig painter, began her sales career in the trucking industry in the early eighties. She has a Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of Massachusetts and a Masters in Art Education from Springfield College. After writing screenplays and producing and directing several films, Jerri is now a member of the Directors Guild of America and lives in Los Angeles with her husband.
Penny Sears wiped the streaming tears from her face as the cantor chanted a prayer for her late husband. She couldn’t hear his words; she was still in shock. Her beloved Adam died two days earlier at the age of fifty. She tried remembering his words, ”When I die – throw a party – no pity. I did everything I wanted to do.” His wide smile conveyed, “I feel terrific.”
As the funeral continued, her mind began to race as a million thoughts rambled through her head. The day before your heart attack, you jogged three miles. How could you die and leave me with two teenagers? Amanda and Holly need you and we were in the prime of our lives. It doesn’t make any sense. You seemed so healthy and so alive.
Why did I fight with you fifteen years ago to stay in the CIA? With the news of my pregnancy, you wanted me to abandon my career. You begged me to stay home with our babies. Maybe I was too stubborn. The extra three years working for the agency was our only cause of dissension. Our family time together was so limited and finding good nannies was a nightmare. I should have listened to you, and quit even earlier. You were right Adam. If only I could go back in time. How will I take care of the two kids without you? You were our Mr. Mom. You gave us strength and happiness. Why did you have to die so young?
Penny heard her relatives and friends in unison saying, “Amen” and it was over. The important questions would still plague her subconscious. Clutching the girls in her arms, Penny cried uncontrollably as she watched the two grave diggers lower the casket into the ground.