It isn’t possible. I have to snap out of this and hold on to what’s real right now. I have to use my head.

But my head is one hundred percent sure that’s the man I keep seeing.

After the rest stop, running into him at the gas station was weird. But here? It’s too much. It’s not possible.

But it’s happening all the same.

November 15

Mira,

You’re lucky I found out what happened. If I hadn’t looked so carefully at all of your accounts—if I hadn’t figured out all the names and places you hide—Well. Let’s just say things weren’t going to go well for you.

I was angry, Mira. Thinking you could deny the connection we share. Thinking you could pretend this isn’t fate. That it’s something you can ignore.

But I found the truth. An envelope came, thick and heavy, full of all the unopened letters I’d sent. Your friend at the art gallery must have made a mistake. You didn’t live in that house. And I should have known long before now. How many nights did I watch those windows, waiting for a glimpse of your beautiful face?

But I will see your face again soon, Mira. I know you’re going home for the holidays. I know exactly where to find you. Won’t that be a gift? I can’t wait to see your surprise.

See you soon,

Yours

Chapter Twenty-One

The moment we’re outside, I search the parking lot. Compared to the darkness of the bar, the snow on the lot makes visibility easy. He couldn’t have been more than two minutes ahead of us, but the man in the yellow hat is gone. Vanished like a phantom.

Joyce locks up and then tugs on the thickest bright blue gloves I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t offer help, but she does say, “Hope you get home for the holiday,” as she strides to her car.

Smitty waits a touch longer, asking about our fuel level and making sure we’ll be warm. He recommends a truck stop that will be open, but it’s ten or fifteen miles away, which feels pretty daunting. Finally, he pulls out his keys and looks toward the cars. Joyce almost has hers scraped clean.

“You all take care of yourselves,” Smitty says.

“We will,” I say.

We wish him well and watch as they both scrape their cars and leave the lot.

“Where did that other guy go?” Kayla asks. “The weird one.”

I sag, relieved that someone else saw him. “I don’t know, but we need to stay away from him.”

Everyone’s gaze turns on me, and a shiver runs up my back. I sigh. “I saw him earlier. At the rest stop. And then the gas station. I don’t like it.”

Brecken’s eyes widen. “Did he see what happened with—”