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PROLOGUE

PAWPAW VALLEY

Someone was stalking her.

Thirty-four-year-old Barbara Thacker had felt it for months now. The fine prickle of the hair at the back of her neck as she stopped for morning coffee at the Bean. As she grocery shopped in the market. As she turned off the lights at night.

But each time she looked to see if someone was there, she saw nothing. Except a fleeting shadow disappearing between the forest as if a ghost had walked through the bare pawpaw trees in the valley.

Sometimes she sensed an intruder had been in the house. A funny smell here, sweet like the oblong fruit that was harvested in the fall.

A photograph that had been tipped over. Her desk rifled through. But nothing had ever been taken.

Not that she had anything of value to take, not on a teacher’s salary.

Tonight, as she pulled into the driveway of her house, she thought she saw the flicker of headlights passing. A dark car driving past. She slowed herself. Glanced in the rearview mirror.

The car sped up. The soft rumble of a muffler pouted into the night as the car peeled away.

Her hand shook as she hit the button to her garage door. She kept watch in the mirror as the door slid up and she veered inside. Quickly she closed the door and cut the engine.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her tote bag and purse, jumped out and hurried to the door. She flipped on the kitchen light as she entered and quickly scanned the room. At first glance, nothing looked amiss.

Breathing a little easier, she placed her things on the drop zone bench then padded through the living room and down the hall to her bedroom to change. Paint dotted her shirt and her hands smelled like the papier-maché paste the kids had used to make Thanksgiving turkeys to decorate their holiday tables at home.

She kicked off her sneakers and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. But the minute she stepped inside the bathroom, she froze.

A gasp escaped her. Someone had definitely been inside her bedroom. And this time he’d left her a message written in red lipstick on the mirror.

Liar.

What did that mean? There was only one thing, one important thing she’d ever lied about.

No… no… no one knew. It had been their secret.

Her knees buckled and she reached for her phone in her pocket with a trembling hand. She had to call the others and warn them.