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Prologue
It wasn't that twenty-seven was too young to die; she just had too many loose ends in her life, things she needed to fix. Shay huddled in the darkness, heart thudding, as she listened to the floor's ominous creak. Images flickered out of sequence in her head, Aunt Nina in the kitchen. Cody and his brothers playing hide-and-seek in the yard. Shadows lurking in the dark, statues, and empty graves. A hayloft and a dark-haired boy—almost a man—looking at her with passion and bewilderment on his face, the one face she'd never been able to forget.
She shut her eyes and tried to quiet her breathing as the footsteps crept closer to her hiding place. She heard an evil chuckle, the sound thick with anticipation, as a broken table leg skidded across the floor next to her hiding place. Was that what Mr. Calhoun had heard just before his heart attack? The first of her clients to die. And Mrs. Lindsey, now with a gaping hole where her throat should have been. They'd been vandalized too.
Shay forced her eyes open, terrified she would find his face inches away, but only his boot was there, the square toe so close she could have touched it. She clamped her lips together and listened to him breathe while her own lungs screamed, until nothing mattered but the next breath of air.
