I nodded again, and then I left, rolling my bag behind me as I walked out of the home I’d lived in for the last three years as if it had meant nothing at all.
Theskyhunglowand gray above the quiet residential street. Snow was coming; I could feel it in the bitterly cold air. I shivered in my car on the side of the road, engine off because I wanted to conserve what little gas I had left.
My skin itched, and it took all my self-control not to scratch. It was always a battle this time of year. The scars and graphed skin beneath my clothing were delicate and easily dried out. A frustrating reminder of the night that still haunted my dreams and the flames that almost took my life.
I gazed out at the neighborhood around me to distract myself from the itchiness. Even in winter, when the trees were bare and the sun absent, it was picturesque. Quaint. Like something out of a movie. Ember Hollow was always that way—sweet and charming and carefully preserved.
But Ember Hollow wasn’t merely what it appeared on the surface.
This place had shadows. Ghosts lingered beneath the pretty façades and glowing porch lights. It hadn’t been that long ago that a serial killer had escaped from the county jail. They’d named him the Shadow Stalker—whispered it like a warning. Someone who had haunted the surrounding area for decades, drifting in and out of the dark until he was finally caught.
He had been set to stand trial soon. Instead, he’d vanished.
I didn’t see any now, but the town had been overrun with media and curious amateur podcasters searching for any morsel of information they could use to get clicks and views. It had been weeks since the serial killer had escaped, and the entire town had been on edge. I knew people who had moved away in the last month alone because of it. They’d packed up and left as if fear had finally tipped the scales. I couldn’t blame them.
I let out a long sigh, surprised when my breath didn’t fog the air in front of me. My car, despite its advanced age, must have been holding onto the last scraps of warmth. At least one thing wasn’t giving up on me yet.
This wasn’t how I’d imagined starting the new year—homeless again, parked on the side of the street, counting the dollars in my savings and pretending I wasn’t scared.
A large Victorian home loomed in front of me.
The Ramsey bed-and-breakfast.
I’d always thought houses like this were beautiful. Ember Hollow had a few of them—homes that seemed untouched by time, all ornate trim and tall windows and complicated beauty. They were bright and lovely in a way that was almost defiant against the passage of time.
This one was especially striking.
I’d wondered more than once what it must be like inside. I’d imagined polished wood floors and carved banisters, warm lightspilling from antique fixtures. I wanted to wander through its halls, to see if it was as magical as it seemed from the outside.
I’d just never had the chance.
Until now.
I straightened in my seat, trying to steel myself. After working for Maverick’s family, I didn’t have much left in savings. My termination had been so sudden, I hadn’t had time to line anything else up. I needed somewhere to stay for about a week—long enough to figure out my next move.
I had the money for that. Barely enough, but I’d always wanted to stay here.
The timing was almost serendipitous.
The only problem was that I hadn’t been able to get hold of anyone to make a reservation. The website was down, and calls went straight to voicemail. Even emails bounced back unanswered. It was a bit strange. The bed-and-breakfast was the only place to stay overnight in town.
I could drive farther out, find a cheap motel in one of the nearby cities, but I wasn’t going to give up yet. I’d already been through enough today and staying in an ugly motel all alone sounded close to torture.
So, I was going to talk to them myself. In person.
My stomach twisted as I climbed out of my run-down car, the cold biting through my heavy sweater instantly. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe there was a reason I couldn’t get in contact with anyone—a reason the website was down and the place was so quiet. They were probably on vacation or had gone out of town for the holidays and hadn’t returned yet.
None of that was enough to stop me, though.
I had to try before I moved on. I owed myself that much.
Lifting my chin, I walked up the front steps and prepared to knock.
2
Roman
Thehousewastooquiet.
