Chapter 1
ONE
THE SHADOWVALE DINER
CASSIDY
THIS HALLOWEEN (ALMOST)
You ever get the feeling you’re being watched, but not in the normal, creepy-guy-on-the-bus kind of way?
It’s different. Stranger. Older. Like when the air changes. Like something tightens behind your ribs, and every single hair on your arms stands up. Like a song is playing and you can’t quite hear the words, but you know the melody is for you.
That’s how I feel at the diner today.
The bell over the door hadn’t rung, but I look up anyway, almost as though I’d expected someone to be there.
Nah. Nobody. We’re in that dead spell between the breakfast rush and when we can expect the locals among Main to wander in, ready to order a patty melt with a side of fries for lunch.
For the moment, it’s just me with the rag in my hand, a half-wiped counter, and the same weird sensation that I’ve got a pair of eyes on me.
I laugh it off whenever it happens. Tell myself I’m simply tired. That not everything has to be spooky and weird because—after my third move in two years—I ended up in a small town in the middle of nowhere with a name like Shadowvale.
Of course, it doesn’t help that the Shadowvale Diner has been dressed up for Halloween since the first week of September.
Emily, the head waitress and manager of the diner, put up cobwebs in the corner to cover up the real ones, and we’ve already tossed two rounds of pumpkins because it’s been unseasonably warm on the East Coast this fall and Cookie—whose real name I still don’t know, but we all call him Cookie—refused to keep the air at a comfortable temp once the calendar switched over to October.
The pumpkins all rotted, going soft and sunken-in, and Emily had Derek chuck them in the back dumpster before replacing them the next morning.
Cookie knows when to pick his battles. The owner of the Shadowvale Diner—and Em’s husband for the last twenty years—might skimp on the AC, but if Emily wants to celebrate Halloween with pumpkins lined up on the counter and candy corn jars near the register, he sniffs and mutters, but stays behind the flat top to grill up burgers.
I still can’t believe that I’m working in an old-fashioned diner, complete with magenta neons outside and a flashing ‘open’ sign in the window.
The vinyl seats for each booth is this pretty blue color, with dingy, yellowed hardtop tables complete with their sugar packet caddies, salt and pepper shakers, and glass bottles of ketchup.
Even without the decorations, it feels like a place ripped out of another time… just like Shadowvale.
Two years ago, I was a social worker for a Central New Jersey DV agency.
You think I would’ve recognized the signs; when it came to my clients, I did.
But it’s one thing to counsel men, women, and children in need, helping them find the resources to get out of a dangerous situation.
It’s another entirely to be caught in a relationship with a man who claimed he didn’t abuse you because he never got violent.
But there are countless types of abuses, and it took me longer than I want to admit to realize that Ryan Donovan checked the boxes for way too many of them.
He was clingy. Possessive, but in a stifling, cruel way.
I thought it was hot at first to have a gorgeous guy claim to love me so much that I could only be his, but when I couldn’t even talk to a colleague without him breathing down my neck, it irked me.
He was controlling, too, with a comment and a rule regarding everything: where I went, what I ate, when I left work, what I wore, and how I spent my damn money.
I’m not a pushover. I stood up to him, and because he always put on the charm, love-bombing me instead of knocking me down, I thought we were equal partners.
Yeah, right. I learned that one the hard way after Ryan put a tracker on my car, followed me to where I was having dinner with my boss and a prospective donor for our agency, and lost his shit because the donor was a man.
It didn’t matter that Mr. Williams was my dad’s age.
Ryan went insane, smashed a water glass on the back of the donor’s head, and got charged with aggravated assault.
He pled guilty, went to prison for only ten months with the help of his lawyer, and thought that I’d be waiting for him when he got out.
That was two years ago. I’d already resigned from my agency, relocating from New Jersey to Connecticut, and moved on while he was locked-up. I figured he’d get the hint when he was released and I was a ghost.
No. Ryan Donovan believes he owns me, and he’s already found me twice.
Moving to Shadowvale was my third relocation in the last two years, and I’ve done everything I could to stay under the radar.
Instead of hiding out in a big city or trying to use my MSW to work in my chosen field, I disappeared into a small town in the middle of nowhere, searching for any kind of job to pay my apartment’s rent.
Thank God for Emily Lang. I’d stopped into the Shadowvale Diner about a week after my arrival in town—back in March—because I figured I could afford the breakfast, maybe even talk to some of the locals about job opportunities.
Em was my waitress that morning. She took one look at me, rightfully guessed I needed work, and mentioned they were hiring.
It didn’t matter that I had no experience. Trish ran off to get married and the uniform dress she left behind was just my size. That, plus a fondness for paying my bills and keeping a roof over my head so I’d work hard for my check… those were the only requirements Em had.
The pay is decent enough. The locals tip well.
I’m not the world’s best waitress, but since Trish was a clumsy nineteen-year-old girl with her head in the stars, the fact that I’m a decade older, more world-weary, and with a steadier hand means that I might mix up an order every now and then, but I haven’t dropped a mug of coffee in a customer’s lap just yet.
I can’t complain overall. Sure, the diner has a haunted aura, but I’d say the same about most of Shadowvale.
I haven’t been able to shake the feeling like I’m being watched…
being followed… being stalked since something led me to this small town and I decided to give it a chance.
It’s probably just two years of being on the run from an obsessed ex, but I’d like to think he’s given up by now.
I’ve been in Shadowvale for seven months.
No one knows I’m here. I cut off my parents because they think I was ridiculous to throw away my relationship to a ‘good man’ over a jealous mistake.
Seriously. That’s what Mom called Mr. Williams having to get eighteen stitches in the base of his skull.
A ‘jealous mistake’. Ryan and I were on the cusp of getting engaged when his assault and arrest were the wake-up calls I needed to get out.
The promise of grandchildren trumped her daughter’s safety, I guess, and my parents were the ones who gave up my address to Ryan both times I moved.
Ditto with my friends. Most were work colleagues who cut me off after Ryan revealed his true colors to everyone, and the handful of real friends I had were already gone thanks to Ryan’s possessiveness.
I didn’t even realize at the time how he was isolating me from everyone until I woke up one morning and was completely alone.
I like it that way now. I still glance up every time the bell over the door rings, and I lock my apartment up tight after checking for his shadow lurking on my street, but Ryan can’t find me.
He definitely wouldn’t think to search the Shadowvale Diner for me, either.
I’m safe-ish for the moment, and I’m grateful that Em took me under her wing when she had no real reason to do so.
Shadowvale’s not real big on outsiders, I’ve learned.
It’s a close-knit town with rumors running from a big, haunted mansion on one side of the town, a secret serial killer who hasn’t been caught, to a pair of powerful twins who run Shadowvale behind the scenes with iron fists.
The cemeteries teem with ghosts. Every alleyway can contain monsters, either fictional or in the flesh.
Keep your nose down, avoid the Reeds, and you’ll get along fine…
so long as one of the residents decides you’re worth it.
I asked Em once why she took the chance on me. In my old line of work, I saw the worst in people. Saw the good in them, too, and Emily… around the age of my mom and with a sparkle in her blue eyes no matter how long her shift may be… she’s a good one.
She jokingly reminded me that I was the first girl who walked into the diner that could fit Trish’s uniform. But then, in a more serious tone than usual, she said that she liked the look of me. That I reminded her of someone, and that I had a trustworthy face.
Em believes in me. Even when I’ve stopped believing in myself, that means something.
So here I am, tending to the front counter, waiting for a customer while Em takes a load off of her feet for a quick ten-minute break, all while trying to avoid how much spookier the diner—and the town—have become the closer we get to Halloween.
Apart from me, Emily, and Cookie, the diner has five other employees: three waitresses (Candy, Lee, and Gloria), plus two bussers/dishwashers (Tony and Derek).
Candy and Gloria were here for the morning rush before I came in at ten and they took off, while me, Derek, and Emily will be here ‘til six with Cookie.
Of them all, I get along the best with Derek. Mainly because we share a similar schedule. I’ve only had maybe five shifts with Tony, and he grunted and glared at me the entire time. Derek is in his early-twenties with a crooked grin and bright eyes, always willing to chit-chat during downtime.