Chapter 1
Through the fogged windshield,a mere ribbon of gray provided the only proof that a road existed as the GPS claimed. Would a GPS lie? She didn’t know. Her head was as foggy as the glass—she couldn’t remember her own name. Fear applied her foot to thegas.
Clutchingthe steering wheel, she mindlessly followed the headlight beams through the thick early morning dreamscape. The robotic voice of the little machine on her dash telling her to turn right was her only guidance. Praying all would be clear soon, she turned at a nearly invisible county highwaysign.
The windshield wipers swiped at heavy layers of moisture. The digital clock clicked to 5:30.She’d been driving for hours and had no idea where shewas.
The headlight beams picked up an old wooden signpost that might be a welcome sign. She hit the brake, heart pounding, hoping she might recognize the town’sname.
HILLVALE
SPIRITUAL HOME OF 325 LIVES AND COUNTLESSGHOSTS
Wisps of vapor drifted through the headlights and aroundthe sign, blocking most of the letters exceptCOUNTLESS GHOSTS. An owl hooted in the woods. Sheshivered.
To drive home the point that she was lost in the wilderness, the GPS went blank and flashedNoSignal.
She almost wept. When she’d looked at the GPS in the last gas station, an address in Hillvale had been the destination programmed under HOME. She’d pinned all her hopes on thatone indication that she wasn’tlost.
The only other location programmed in had been the name of the restaurant near Monterey where she’d started out. Those were her only clues. And now she was here and there was nothing, and no means of finding Cemetery Road and what she hoped would be friends and family who could helpher.
After a moment of panic, she got angry. Apparently weepingwasn’t her style. Therehadto be answers at the end of the road. She gritted her molars, let her foot off the brake, and continued the climb up the mountain. From the other road signs she’d passed, she knew she was in California. The names of the towns meant nothing toher.
She was praying that at the end of this nightmare, there would be people who could take her in and tell her she’dbe allright.
She didn’t feel in the least all right. She didn’t even know if this was hercar.
A deer leaped out of nowhere, and she slammed the brake again. The shock had her breathing hard and starting to shake. She could die out here in the wilderness. Would anyone know or care? She opened the windows, hoping fresh air might steady hernerves.
The breeze was almost warm.What month was this? The damp air fogged up the inside of the windows, and she had to close themagain.
She didn’t see a sign of human habitation, but at this hour, everyone sensible was still asleep. The car chugged around tight uphill curves. If she could see past the mist, she feared she would find drop-offs to the sea, or maybe the center of the earth. She checked the gas gauge. Shecould make another thirty or forty miles before running out. All she had was the cash in her pocket. She prayed she’d reach her destinationsoon.
“I hope this car is mine, Emma,” she told the cat in the back seat. As usual, Emma snored. The only way she knew the cat’s name was from the tag on her cage. “It brakes and turns on a dime and doesn’t eat gas. It’s a smart car. Maybe that meansI’m a smartperson.”
There was no radio reception up here. She had only her own voice to listen to. If she’d had music with her, it had disappeared along with her purse and phone. At least she had enough brains left to know what a phone was. And how to drive. So her memory wasn’t completelygone.
Finally, the road leveled off. She thought she saw a mailbox and a driveway. A knotformed in her throat. A normal town, please, with normal people and a gas station and a place to buy coffee. A friendly voice would be nice. She desperately needed friendly and normal rightnow.
The Hillvale welcome sign hadn’t inspiredhope.
The road widened into what appeared to be a parking lot. A single pole lamp illuminated the shifting haze over painted parking spaces and aconcrete walkway. Low buildings lined both sides of the road but no lights gleamed. She supposed the road went on, but she pulled into the lot to peer through the mist at what she assumed was the town. Thick moisture concealed signs telling her what the buildings mightbe.
She shook the little GPS butNo Signalwas all it displayed. Now was the time to cry. “Emma, we aren’t in Kansas anymore,”she said, trying for a laugh but not achievingit.
She thought she was quoting an old movie. Was that a sign that her mind wasreturning?
She could ask directions to the address she’d seen in the GPS, but she’d have to wait until the town opened. Now that she’d arrived, she was trembling badly. Maybe whoever she was didn’t cry but went straight tohysterics.
Fog swirled underthe one street light. If she wanted to believe in ghosts, she’d see them in the gaping dark holes between the wisps of moisture. A howling dog had her hair standing onend.
She needed coffee. She needed something concrete to pin her to reality. Cats needed to be fed sometime. Did she have cat food inhere?
Realizing that in her fugue state, she hadn’t looked in the suitcases in theback seat or in the trunk, she climbed out. She must have been drugged. Nothing else made sense. Why wouldn’t she have looked beforethis?
The car was an older model Subaru wagon. Had she known that? The back end popped open to reveal a canvas cover over the cargo area. She unlatched it and studied stacks of unmarked boxes in dismay. She didn’t know whether to hope or fear that they werestuffed with cash. Pulling out the first one, she realized it wasn’t even taped. Opening the flap revealed a disorderly collection of books—mostly college texts and nothinguseful.
She opened a healthy-sized volume on botany, and in the halogen glare of the parking lot light, readSamantha Moonand a phonenumber.
