Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

It had been an eventful day of shopping for twenty-seven-year-old Claire Cooperson. Ever the introvert, she wasn’t fond of mingling with the masses during the holiday season, but her best friend Leah always knew just what to say to convince her. And convince her, she had.

At present, Claire was sitting in the den by the fire, wrapping presents and placing them beneath the Christmas tree. Reaching for her mug of hot cocoa, she hummed along to a classic holiday tune playing on the record player and smiled, grateful for Leah and the wonderful day they’d had.

The past year had been difficult, to say the least. It all started with the death of Claire’s mother eleven months earlier, the fatal car accident coming as an unwelcome shock. After her death, Claire had struggled to accept her mother was gone. Days often blurred together, each one harder than the one before, and she found herself becoming depressed and withdrawn.

Even getting out bed proved a difficult chore. All Claire wanted was to melt beneath the covers, avoiding the outside world and everyone in it. But as the secretary of the local elementary school, she knew she had to find a way to persevere, to fake her way through the pain.

And she did just that.

Brave face by day, emotional breakdown by night.

The schoolchildren with their bright, beaming faces offered the slightest sliver of hope that her happiness would return. Soon after word spread about her mother’s death, several schoolchildren began making cards for Claire and drawing her pictures, all of which she pinned to a pegboard in her office.

As the months passed, her days became more bearable. Still, most nights were the opposite. She would sit on the couch, curled beneath a blanket, and try her best to escape into the pages of a book, something her husband didn’t understand. Owen wanted her to talk about her feelings, to let him in, something she found hard to do with him. On her better days, when she did try, it often resulted in an eruption of tears.

She’d hoped Owen would understand her need for some alone time, and he seemed to at first. But as time rolled along, his patience began to fade, replaced by feelings of resentment. In his eyes, she was shutting him out, avoiding him, and in doing so, damaging their marriage. The more Owen pushed, the more Claire pulled back, escaping deeper inside herself.

She knew it wasn’t right.

And she knew the toll it was taking on their marriage.

But the day her mother died, it was as if a part of her died too. A new woman was forming in its wake—a woman Claire was still trying to understand.

The holiday song on the record player came to an end, shifting Claire’s focus back to the last present to be wrapped. As she began cutting the paper, she heard what she assumed was glass shattering. The sound startled her. But given it had been a windy day, and an even windier night, it wasn’t too farfetched to believe something had struck a window, causing it to break. Perhaps a tree branch, or an object swept along by the turbulent breeze.

Moving the wrapping paper to the side, she pushed herself to a standing position and tiptoed toward the back door. A chill brushed across her face, and as the outside wind howled, she wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her sweater tighter. Struggling to see in the darkness, she reached out, her hand sliding against the wall until she felt the switch for the dining room light. She flicked it on and glanced around the room. It didn’t take long to find the cause of the sound she’d heard. One of the glass panels in the center of the back door had shattered, spitting jagged shards all over the tile floor.

But what had caused the glass to break?

Upon closer inspection, she couldn’t say. There was nothing on the floor to explain why. And where was Owen? She checked the time on the microwave, noting he was almost an hour late.

Unsure what to do about the broken windowpane, Claire stood a moment, trying to come up with a temporary solution. The easiest one that came to mind was a sheet of plastic and packing tape. She hoped it would keep the frigid air out long enough for Owen to arrive and come up with something better.

Claire removed a box of plastic wrap from the kitchen cabinet and walked to the den for the packing tape. She grabbed it and turned, gasping when she felt a warm, tingling sensation on her neck, like the heat of someone’s breath.

Hands shaking as she gripped the items, she turned.

Her eyes came to rest on a familiar face, and she whispered the last words she’d ever utter in this life. “What are you doing here?”