That, of course, had made the bookstore Kincaid’s favorite place from that point on. Forbidding her to do something was a surefire way to make her want to do it more than anything. She’d spent many an afternoon there in the years following, getting to know Grace and Charlie, and it’d been the first place she’d applied for a job when she’d been old enough. So many of her best early memories had happened within its walls. She’d gotten Ash a job there. She’d also fallen in love with Graham, Grace and Charlie’s son, there. Graham had hidden love letters in different books for her to find so he could win her over. Her own romantic scavenger hunt. He’d given her a fairy tale in the magical bookstore.

Kincaid’s stomach tightened. Good memories tainted by bad ones. Now she avoided the place like it had a disease. When she needed books, she put in an order with Grace and picked up the books when she stopped by their house for her regular dinners with them.

Kincaid stared at the door that led to The Stuffed Shelf. She could almost smell its familiar scent—old paper and the cinnamon potpourri Grace had always favored. Kincaid had the overwhelming urge just to peek inside, but she resisted, knowing no good would come of it. The store didn’t open until ten anyway.

She turned toward the steel door that would lead out to the parking lot, but before she could push it open, a crashing noise came from somewhere behind her. She spun around, cocking her head to listen. Another sound, one she couldn’t identify, drifted from beneath the closed door of the bookstore. Already on edge from earlier, she pulled her pepper spray out of her purse again. The noise had probably just been a worker dropping something while getting shelves stocked. She could see that a light was on under the door, but she wanted to be sure everything was okay. She stepped closer and put her ear to the door. She heard a low, pained moan, and her heart jumped into her throat.

She grabbed the door handle, thankful it wasn’t locked, and charged inside. The door opened into a narrow carpeted hallway that led to a small office, the storage room, and then the main store. The moan sounded again. Louder this time.

“Hello?” she called out.

“In here,” a familiar male voice croaked out. “Help.”

“Charlie!” She’d recognize his deep, scratchy voice anywhere. Kincaid dropped the pepper spray into her purse and hurried toward the front of the store. The main lights weren’t on yet, but the morning sun shining through the front windows gave off enough light for her to get her bearings. The store hadn’t changed much since she’d last been in it—maybe more cluttered and dustier than Grace usually liked—but the familiarity took Kincaid’s breath away for a second. Her head swam, the past and present ramming together, but she grabbed the edge of a shelf in the horror section and fought back the sensation. “Charlie, it’s Kincaid. Where are you?”