LITMIR.BIZ

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Hell, if Micah wasn’t the one stranded here in small-town America, he might be amused, too. As it was, though, he didn’t see a damn thing funny about it. Micah pushed one hand through his hair and stared out at the so-called view. The house he was currently renting was an actual Victorian mansion set back from a wide street that was lined by gigantic, probably ancient, trees, now gold and red as their leaves changed and died. The sky was a brilliant blue, the autumn sun peeking out from behind thick white clouds. It was quiet, he thought. So quiet it was damn near creepy.

      And since the suspense/horror novels Micah was known for routinely hit number one on the New York Times bestseller list, he knew a thing or two about creepy.

      “Seriously, Sam, I’m stuck here for another four months because you talked me into signing the lease.”

      Sam laughed. “You’re stuck there because you never could turn down a challenge.”

      Harsh but true. Nobody knew that about Micah better than Sam. They’d met when they were both kids, serving on the same US Navy ship. Sam had run away from his wealthy family’s expectations, and Micah had been running from a past filled with foster homes, lies and broken promises. The two of them had connected and then stayed in touch when their enlistments were up.

      Sam had returned to New York and the literary agency his grandfather had founded—discovering, after being away for a while, that he actually wanted to be a part of the family business. Micah had taken any construction job he could find while he spent every other waking moment working on a novel.

      Even as a kid, Micah had known he wanted to write books. And when he finally started writing, it seemed the words couldn’t pour out of his mind fast enough. He typed long into the night, losing himself in the story developing on the screen. Finishing that first book, he’d felt like a champion runner—exhausted, satisfied and triumphant.

      He’d sent that first novel to Sam, who’d had a few million suggestions to make it even better. Nobody liked being told to change something they thought was already great, but Micah had been so determined to reach his goal, he’d made most of the changes. And the book sold almost immediately for a modest advance that Micah was more proud of than anything he’d ever earned before.

      That book was the precursor of things to come. With his second book, word-of-mouth advertising made it a viral sensation and had it rocketing up the bestseller lists. Before he knew it, Micah’s dreams were a reality. Sam and Micah had worked together ever since and they’d made a hell of a team. But because they were such good friends, Sam had known exactly how to set Micah up.

      “This is payback because I beat you at downhill snowboarding last winter, isn’t it?”

      “Would I do something that petty?” Sam asked, laughter in his voice.

      “Yeah, you would.” Micah shook his head.

      “Okay...yeah, probably,” Sam agreed. “But, you’re the one who took the bet. Live in a small town for six months.”

      “True.” How bad could it be? He remembered asking himself that before signing the lease with his landlady, Kelly Flynn. Now, two months into his stay, Micah had the answer to that question.

      “And, hey, research,” Sam pointed out. “The book you’re working on now is set in a small town. Good to know these things firsthand.”

      “Ever heard of Google?” Micah laughed. “And the book I set in Atlantis, how’d I research that one?”

      “Not the point,” Sam said. “The point is, Jenny and I loved that house you’re in when we were there a couple years ago. And, okay, Banner’s a small town, but they’ve got good pizza.”

      Micah would admit to that. He had Pizza Bowl on speed dial.

      “Like I said, in another month or so, you’ll feel differently,” Sam said. “You’ll be out enjoying all that fresh powder on the mountains and you won’t mind it so much.”

      Micah wasn’t so sure about that. But he had to admit it was a great house. He glanced around the second-floor room he’d claimed as a temporary office. The ceilings were high, the rooms were big and the view of the mountains was beautiful. The whole house had a lot of character, which he appreciated, but damned if he didn’t feel like a phantom or something, wandering through the big place. He’d never had so much space all to himself and Micah could admit, at least to himself, that sometimes it creeped him out.

      Hell, in the city—any city—there were lights. People. Noise. Here, the nights were darker than anything he’d ever known. Even in the navy, on board a ship, there were enough lights that the stars were muted in the night sky. But Banner, Utah, was listed on the International Dark-Sky roster because it lay just beyond a ridge that wiped out the haze of light reflection from Salt Lake City.

      Here, at night, you could look up and see the Milky Way and an explosion of stars that was as beautiful as it was humbling. He’d never seen skies like these before, and he was willing to acknowledge that the beauty of it took some of the sting out of being marooned at the back end of beyond.

      “How’s the book coming?” Sam asked suddenly.

      The change in subject threw him for a second, but Micah was grateful for the shift. “Good. Actually just killed the bakery guy.”

      “That’s a shame. Love a good bakery guy.” Sam laughed. “How’d he buy it?”

      “Pretty grisly,” Micah said, and began pacing the confines of his office. “The killer drowned him in the doughnut fryer vat of hot oil.”

      “Damn, man...that is gross.” Sam took a breath and sighed it out. “You may have put me off doughnuts.”

      Good to know the murder he’d just written was going to hit home for people.

      “Not for long, I’ll bet,” Micah mused.

      “The copy editor will probably get sick, but your fans will love it,” Sam assured him. “And speaking of fans, any of them show up in town yet?”

      “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” Frowning, he looked out the window and checked up and down the street, half expecting to see someone with a camera casing the house, hoping for a shot of him.

      One of the reasons Micah never remained in one place too long was because his more devoted fans had a way of tracking him down. They would just show up at whatever hotel he was staying in, assuming he’d be happy to see them. Most were harmless, sure, but Micah knew “fan” could turn into “fanatic” in a flash.

      He’d had a few talk their way into his hotel rooms, join him uninvited at dinner, acting as though they were either old friends or long-lost lovers. Thanks to social media, there was always someone reporting on where he had been seen last or where he was currently holed up. So he changed hotels after every book, always staying in big cities where he could get lost in the crowds and living in five-star hotels that promised security.

      Until now, that is.

      “No one’s going to look for you in a tiny mountain town,” Sam said.

      “Yeah, that’s what I thought when I was at the hotel in Switzerland,” Micah reminded his friend. “Until that guy showed up determined to pummel me because his girlfriend was in love with me.”

      Sam laughed again and Micah just shook his head. Okay, it was funny now, but having some guy you didn’t know ambush you in a hotel lobby wasn’t something he wanted to repeat.

      “This is probably the best thing you could have done,” Sam said. “Staying in Banner and living in a house, not a hotel, will throw off the fans hunting for you.”

      “Yeah, well, it should. It’s throwing me off, that’s for sure.” His scowl tightened. “It’s too damn quiet here.”

      “Want me to send you a recording of Manhattan traffic? You could play it while you write.”

      “Funny,” Micah said, and didn’t even admit to himself

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