Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Mountain FogThe black sedan drifted past like a predator smelling blood in the water.
I didn't cower, but I slumped further into the wheelchair, letting my chin drop toward my chest. The car didn't stop—not yet. It turned the corner toward the local motel, fading into the gathering mountain mist.
Gino hadn't wasted any time. Less than ninety-six hours after I walked out of my Boston penthouse, my uncle’s network was already probing the perimeter of Cedar Hollow. They thought I was hiding, licking my wounds after cutting ties with a gold-digging fiancée and rejecting a strategic corporate-crime marriage.
They had no idea I was following a ghost.
Ray Kesler had been more than a driver; he was the architect of my father's empire and the keeper of every skeleton in the Castellano closet. When Ray died of a sudden, violent heart attack three days after my thirtieth birthday, the world assumed he took our family's secrets to the grave. But Ray’s final letter told a different story. It pointed directly to this forgotten West Virginia town—and to a debt so heavy it had haunted a hardened mob driver for thirty years.
I unwrapped Mia’s cinnamon roll. Inside the wax paper, tucked beneath the pastry, was a small, folded napkin.
Frowning, I looked around. Main Street was emptying out as the sun vanished behind the ridge. I unfolded the napkin with my thumb.
Scrawled in hurried, frantic pencil strokes were words that made my blood run cold:
HE'S NOT LOOKING FOR YOU. HE'S LOOKING FOR THE GIRL. GET OUT OF CEDAR HOLLOW TONIGHT OR WE BOTH DIE.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Ray’s handwriting.
Impossible. Ray was dead. I had stood beside his mahogany casket. I had watched them lower him into the frozen Massachusetts earth.
Unless... Ray hadn't died of natural causes.
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Unless Gino had murdered him to keep Cedar Hollow buried.
And if Gino’s men were here, Mia was already in their crosshairs.
