Chapter 6: The Ghost of Oakhaven
Three hundred miles north of Manhattan, the air smelled entirely of salt, pine needles, and freezing ocean spray.
The coastal town of Oakhaven, Maine, was exactly the kind of place that wealthy tourists ignored during the brutal winter months. The streets were lined with weathered white clapboard houses, ancient oak trees, and a pervasive, comforting silence.
I stood on the wraparound porch of my rented, drafty cottage. I was wrapped tightly in a thick wool sweater, holding a steaming mug of cheap black tea.
I looked out at the jagged, icy coastline. The Atlantic Ocean violently crashed against the dark rocks, yet the sound was incredibly soothing.
For the first time in a decade and a half, my phone wasn’t ringing. I wasn’t reviewing a seating chart for a charity gala. I wasn’t holding my breath waiting for Adrian’s armored car to pull into the driveway.
“Morning, Claire!” a cheerful voice called out from the sidewalk.
I looked down. It was Mrs. Higgins, the elderly woman who owned the local bakery, walking her golden retriever through the light snow.
“Good morning, Eleanor,” I smiled gently, leaning against the wooden railing.
“You’re up early again,” Eleanor noted, pausing at my gate. “You city girls always bring that frantic Manhattan clock with you. You need to learn how to sleep in, honey!”
I let out a soft, genuine laugh. “I’m trying, Eleanor. But the quiet takes some getting used to.”
“Well, if the quiet gets too loud, come down to the bakery. I’ve got a fresh batch of blueberry scones with your name on them.”
“I’ll be there in an hour,” I promised.
As Eleanor walked away, I took a deep, shuddering breath of the freezing air. It felt like cold water washing over a severe burn.
The first three days of my escape had been terrifying. I constantly looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Marcus or one of Adrian’s enforcers stepping out of the shadows. I expected black SUVs with tinted windows to surround my bus.
But as the weeks slowly dragged on, the paranoia began to fade into a fragile, beautiful peace.
I walked back inside the cottage. It was tiny. The floorboards aggressively creaked with every step. The heating barely worked, forcing me to rely on a small wood-burning stove in the living room.
It was absolutely nothing like the sprawling, multi-million dollar Manhattan estate.
And I absolutely loved it.
I walked into the small kitchen and grabbed my purse to head to the bakery. As I pulled out my wallet, my fingers brushed against a small, hidden pocket inside the leather.
I froze.
I slowly unzipped the hidden compartment and pulled out a worn, silver locket. It was cheap. It was entirely unpolished. It was the only thing my mother had left me before she passed away when I was a teenager.
Adrian had always hated it. He called it “tacky” and bought me a fifty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace to replace it on our first anniversary.
I traced the cheap silver with my thumb. I hadn’t worn it in fifteen years.
Suddenly, a loud, heavy knock echoed from my front door.
My heart instantly stopped. My blood turned to absolute ice in my veins.
Nobody knocks on doors in Oakhaven unless there’s an emergency.
I held my breath, slowly creeping toward the front window. I peered through the edge of the sheer curtains, my hands violently shaking.
“Claire?” a gruff, deep voice called out from the porch. “You in there?”
I let out a massive, dizzying exhale of relief. It was just Thomas, the local handyman who lived down the street.
I quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open, pasting on a bright smile. “Thomas! You nearly gave me a heart attack. What’s wrong?”
“Sorry to spook you,” Thomas grunted, holding up a toolbox. “Eleanor told me your hot water heater was making a screaming noise. Figured I’d take a look before the pipes freeze tonight.”
“Oh,” I breathed, opening the door wider. “Thank you. That’s incredibly kind of you.”
As Thomas walked past me into the kitchen, he paused, looking closely at my pale face.
“You know, Claire,” Thomas said slowly, his voice dropping. “I’ve lived in this town my whole life. I know the look of a woman who’s running away from the devil.”
I froze, gripping the doorknob tightly. “I’m not running, Thomas.”
“Sure you aren’t,” he muttered, opening his toolbox. “But just so you know… folks in Oakhaven protect their own. Whoever you’re hiding from, they won’t find an easy welcome here.”
I stared at his back as he knelt by the water heater. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
They have no idea who they would be dealing with, I thought. If Adrian Moretti finds me, this entire town won’t be able to stop him.
