Chapter 1
Palmer
Present Day
Everything was coming apart, as it always did. I wasn’t sure why I let myself become a casualty every single time, when I already knew the end would eventually come. I was never needed for long.
It felt like my heart was breaking—like someone had sunk their claws straight into muscle and sinew and was tearing me apart while I bled out all over the floor. I stared up at the ceiling, clutching a soft, stuffed toy to my chest.
It was always like this. Like I might be dying. Like the blood loss would finally be too much and I wouldn’t survive it.
Yet somehow, I always did.
I wasn’t sure whether my survival was mercy or punishment at this point.
Tears burned as I stared at the white, blank ceiling. It was the same ceiling I’d slept under for the past three years.
But I’d slept in this bed for the last time.
I blinked rapidly, fighting the sobs building in my chest. I always cried when it was time to leave and move on, but it was never helpful. It only made people uncomfortable.
I hated myself for that.
Every time I found a place to live, I promised myself to not get attached—to remember that it was never forever.
But my heart was a traitor. No matter what, it always betrayed me. I always let people get too close to my most vital organ.
I hugged the stuffed animal tighter to my chest, shuddering at the ache in my soul.
The stuffy was his—Maverick’s. He was the little boy I’d been nannying for the past three years. The special little boy who had burrowed so deep into my heart that it felt like it was shredding itself.
I wished I could keep the stuffy.
It was one of his extras. Maverick had always been a bit “difficult” to handle. At least, that was what people labeled him. His parents had hired me when he was two because they were struggling so much with him. No daycare would take him, and he had a harder time communicating, even now.
His parents had turned to me out of desperation. Being lower middle class, they didn’t have a lot of money to spare for special-needs care. They both worked and were overwhelmed.
I happened to come across them at exactly the right time, and became Maverick’s full-time nanny and caregiver.
I didn’t ask for much pay beyond room and board because I had fallen so deeply in love with the small child. I just wanted to help him.
But now that Maverick was five, it was becoming clear that he needed more support than I could give.
There were so many great programs out there available to special-needs children like him—places capable of helping him grow so much more than I could.
There was a school not too far from Ember Hollow that might be a good fit for him that I had been so excited to share with his parents.
However, when I sat them down to have that discussion with them, they weren’t receptive to the idea. They were proud people and had a hard time accepting that Maverick needed more help.
I realized now that I could have tried a different approach, could’ve been gentler and less pushy, but it was too late.
They were more insulted by my suggestion than anything else. They thought I was trying to worm my way out of taking care of their son. That I was no longer a good fit for him.
And so, they asked me to leave.
A soft knock on the door sent a shot of anxiety through me. I took a deep breath, and forced myself to sit up.
“Come in,” I said softly.
Stephen—Maverick’s father—poked his head inside. He was a slight man with glasses and a bushy beard. I’d always gotten along with him, but now he avoided my gaze.
“Got everything packed up?” he asked in a tone more quiet and somber than his usual.
My one suitcase sat in the middle of the room. Even after three years of living here, all my belongings fit into it alone.
“Are you sure I can’t say goodbye?” I asked.
Stephen shifted on his feet.
“Kayla doesn’t think that’s a good idea.” He scratched the back of his balding head. “She thinks it’ll be easier on Mav if it’s a clean break. It’s already going to be hard enough on him.”
I nodded, even though it felt like he’d punched me in the gut. I had never been close to Maverick’s mom, Kayla, but she was always uncomfortable around me—as if she were simply tolerating me.
It didn’t matter how well I took care of Mav. It didn’t matter how much I cleaned the house or prepared dinner for their family—Kayla always looked at me like I was an intruder in her household.
Though I was used to that feeling, to not being welcome in the place I called home, I could never stop myself from trying to fit in. To earn my place.
Now, it felt like Kayla was punishing me.
I wasn’t sure what for, though.
“Do you need help carrying your bag?”
I blinked over at Stephen. He had walked deeper into the room, pointing toward my suitcase.
I had known this was coming. I’d been preparing all morning for it, but now that I was expected to walk out and never return—never hug little Mav ever again—tears welled up. I fought them back as best I could.
“I’ve got it,” I said as I stood.
I trudged toward my suitcase.
“Kayla took him to the park.”
Stephen said the words so fast I almost missed them. Another pang hit my chest. He was probably telling me so I didn’t get any hope of catching a glimpse as I was leaving.
I nodded, but barely registered doing so. My body and mind started to slip into autopilot. I was numb and simply going through the motions.
One of my hands reached for the suitcase. The other—the one clutching Maverick’s stuffy—moved slowly, as if every inch was agony, toward Stephen.
He took the stuffy back. “Thanks.”
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.
The sky hung low and 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 facades 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 light spilling 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.