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“That makes two of us,” she says, her mood seemingly lighter than it was a minute ago. “Now pop the trunk. I’ll help you with your bags.”

“Thanks.”

I grab my backpack, filled with my laptop and notebooks—all the things I might need in case inspiration finally decides to find me—while Sienna lifts my carry-on from the trunk.

“You packed light for someone staying a week,” she observes.

“I’m not planning on staying the whole week. I just wanted to prove to myself I could come back here and that it wouldn’t bother me anymore.”

“Good luck with that.” She drags the suitcase behind her, its wheels rattling over every pebble on the driveway leading to the large Victorian house. “I didn’t go through half the fucked-up stuff you did, and I still had to think twice about coming.”

“Why did you then? Come, I mean?”

“Honestly?” she starts. “My ASAC’s dragging her feet on deciding where to post me, so I was encouraged to use my vacation days while she figures out where I’d be best suited.” When she catches the blank look on my face, she adds, “I’m an FBI agent.”

“Really?” My face lights up for the first time in… well, what feels like forever. “An FBI agent? Wow, Sienna. That’s incredible.”

“It will be once my supervisor lets me transfer into the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” She exhales through her nose. “So far, she’s still not convinced I’ve had enough field experience.”

“And you’re not happy with that?” The no-the-fuck-I’m-not scowl on her face says it all. “So where are you based now?”

“After this, I’m supposed to report back to D.C.” She adjusts her grip on my suitcase. “I’m hoping they’ll finally assign me to a case by New Year’s.”

“I’m sure they will.” Sienna just nods, putting an end to the conversation.

Apparently not being where she wants to be in her chosen profession is a sore subject. I get it. I’ve been stuck in my own kind of limbo these last months too. It’s not a place anyone likes to be, no matter the circumstances.

Still, it’s fascinating to me that Sienna became an FBI agent. And one hoping to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit, no less. She always had a Type A personality, but I never pictured she’d actually enjoy spending her days studying serial killers and violent offenders. Then again, maybe that’s exactly why she’d be good at it. She never did shy away from the ugly parts of life.

Which works pretty damn well for me. Maybe she’ll be willing to share a few stories from the job. Perhaps they’ll finally get the creative juices flowing again. For the first time in months, I feel the faintest flicker of hope.

I’m about to ask if she’d be willing to sit down with me and talk shop when a woman in her late fifties appears in the doorway, her hair so heavily shellacked it probably hasn’t moved since breakfast.

“Ms. Maxine Morgan! Welcome!” she gushes in my direction. “My name is Leah Trott, proprietor of the Alder Bed & Breakfast. What an honor it is to have you staying with us. I’ve been on pins and needles all day hoping I’d be here to welcome you personally.”

Sienna looks at me like I’ve been holding out on her, but for the life of me, I have no idea why this stranger is so excited to see me.

“I… um… thank you?”

“No, thank you for gracing us with your presence. We’ve had a few minor celebrities stay with us over the years, but never a world-famous author like yourself.”

Shit. Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag.

“World-famous author?” Sienna asks, looking from Mrs. Trott to me.

“Yes! This is none other than Max Usher, the horror novelist. Stephen King himself has recommended her books to anyone who loves a good spooky tale. High praise indeed.” She presses a hand to her chest as if to catch her breath. “I’ve read every single one of them, Ms. Usher… I mean, Ms. Morgan. My apologies. It’s just… your assistant called earlier to ask if you’d arrived since she couldn’t reach you on your cell. Good thing too, otherwise we would have never realized we were hosting someone so accomplished.”

Damn it. I silently curse myself for giving Kaia my itinerary.

Fairhope has never been known for its reliable cell service or internet, so I’d told her where I’d be staying in case of an emergency. Apparently, she took that as a way of announcing my arrival to the staff. Which means the whole town probably knows by now.

I can almost hear Cathie’s boisterous laugh in my ear.

Good. Let them all know.

Unlike my larger-than-life friend, I value my privacy. This town already knows far too much about me. I had no intention of telling anyone what my life looked like now. Not what I did for a living and definitely not the name I wrote under. Guess that ship has sailed.

“Looks like we have a lot of catching up to do,” Sienna remarks, a teasing lilt to her voice.