PROLOGUE
PROLOGUE
Not a soul in sight. Perfect.
Chris’s feet pounded the pavement, the early morning air prickly and cool in his lungs. A snake-like path wound through Ames Park—it was still dark enough for fog to obscure the playground’s silhouette, but light enough for the rising sun’s hues to work their way through the trees. Chris always liked watching the sky transform from denim blue to a wash of orange.
Crickets trilled from the grassy fields, and the sound of the lake trickled through the air. Ames Park was nestled between the lake and the town, divided by trees to create the illusion of running with nature. It worked—Chris felt one with the planet out here, rather than in the middle of a Northern Virginia town filled with six thousand busybodies.
When he’d moved to Lake Vernon from New York City, he’d hoped for the quiet serenity of an American small town. He wasn’t warned about the nosy neighbors and people with too much time on their hands. He sighed as he ran, remembering a particularly unfortunate encounter with a customer at the hardware shop yesterday. In a couple hours, he’d have to do it all again: smile and nod, because the customer is always right.
Bullshit.
Chris continued up the path and tried to rinse the negativity away.
As he ran, a red figure appeared through the haze.
That’s weird; no one’s ever out here so early. He squinted as it became clearer.
A woman sat upright on a bench, posture rigid, back perfectly straight. She wore a bright red dress that stood out against the muted tones of the park. A straw hat rested on top of her head, tilted down to conceal her face with the brim. She looked like she’d fallen out of a high school prom set in a barnyard, but it wasn’t anywhere near the end of the schoolyear; the town’s teenagers should have all been safely asleep by then. Besides, this woman didn’t look drunk or passed out—she resembled more of a monk meditating, if it weren’t for her strange attire.
Chris jogged past. Not his business.
He had to hand it to the town’s planners: this was a great park. As the sun peeked over the trees, its reflection rippled off the lake like a watercolor painting. It was smart to build a path right along the water, so the town’s citizens—or at least, one of them—could appreciate it each day.
It took another half an hour to reach the end of the path, and Chris began to double back. Dawn had fully elapsed. He wished it would have lasted forever, that he didn’t have to return to his mundane life. But it kept food on the table. That was all that mattered—keeping him and his girls healthy.
On his way back up the path, Chris approached the bench again. Even from afar, he could see the woman in the red dress was still there. He drew closer, until they were right next to each other.
It had been at least an hour since he’d first passed.
She hadn’t moved an inch.
A bad feeling churned inside him. Chris had two daughters; he’d never been one to leave vulnerable young women where they could get hurt. Alone out here all night, she was lucky she hadn’t been snatched up by some suburban predator.
Warily, he took a closer look. She was so still, stiller than the undisturbed lake behind him.
Is this even a person? Or is it a mannequin? Is this some sort of teenage prank?
Chris’s palms grew sweaty. He needed to make a decision.
I’ll just ask if she’s fine. Be a good Samaritan.
“Excuse me, miss?” he asked delicately, like talking to a skittish animal. The last thing he wanted to do was make her think he was the danger.
No movement, no words. A crow squawked as it flew overhead.
“Hey, you should really wake up,” he said, taking another step closer.
The woman’s rather large feet were stuffed into black high heels, and her skin was chalky-pale. Thick, dark hair covered her thin legs, more leg hair than he’d ever seen on a woman. Her knees appeared chalky and dry, like they’d flake right off if he touched them.
And are those bruises?
“Hello?” Chris tried again. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?”
His hand instinctively went for his phone as though it were a g*n, tucked safely in the pocket of his running shorts. No response. Chris checked over his shoulder—they were still alone. Part of him wanted to bolt out of there, get some external help, but he quickly realized he was being ridiculous. She was just a woman, and she was in rough shape, so he had to help now.
“Miss, it isn’t safe for girls to be out here all alone,” Chris said. “If you need a ride home, I can help. I’m a friend. I have two girls myself.”
Hesitantly, Chris touched her shoulder—but he was met with a stiff, ice-cold body. He accidentally shifted her, causing her head to fall limply to the side and the straw hat to tumble off.
Chris’s blood went cold.
This was no woman at all.
A dead man with barely a hint of facial hair stared back at him, eyes open and devoid of life. Red lipstick was smeared across his face, and his mouth was taped back in a wide, sinister smile.
Chris screamed and jumped back. His phone fell and cracked against the concrete. As he fumbled to find it, he couldn’t take his eyes off the dead man.
And he knew no amount of running would ever make him unsee this.
