Saturday, March 16, 2024

Village in the Dark



Welcome to my reading corner , where we talk about the books I've read and think you should know about , and that you might be interested in. From the bad to good, to even audio books and before you ask you did read that right,buts its a new a year and I'm slowly getting in to them but I'm still going to be reading more books then audio books , each month the plan is to try and listing to 2 or 3 audio books and then talk about them , so pull up a set and if you want to get a drink. 


For this book chat the book will be 


Village In The Dark

Author : Iris Yamashita


Published by  Berkley Publishing Group, Berkley

Pub date : Feb 13,2024


Genres :  Mystery, Fiction, Suspense, Police procedural

Pages :289


Format :ARC 


Source:Berkley & NetGalley 


Series :Cara Kennedy #2

Rating : 4

Would I recommend it ? Yes 

Would I read more of this series ? Yes , in fact I added the first book to my wish list along with this one.

Would I read more by this author ? Yes

Now on to my thoughts 

First off like I do each and every time I want to give a  big thanks to the publisher Berkely as well as to the author ,and Netgalley for the invite to read and review Village in the Dark , not only is this a new to my series but also a new to me author Even though this is a second book in a series I actually liked it ,one  I enjoyed it so much was that  I actually know a little bit about the place the author used in her story since I remembered watching a show about it on YouTube so that made the story even more interesting, and a bit different from anything I've read  before , and second it used one of my all time favorite tropes in it and that's the story takes place in a isolated region where there is only one way in and one way out, and you have no idea what's going to happen with each turn of the page. The author brought not only the building to life but also her characters and places that she was talking about to a point it felt that you could reach out and touch them. 



Detective Cara Kennedy thought she’d lost her husband and son in an accident, but harrowing evidence has emerged that points to murder--and she will stop at nothing to find the truth in this riveting mystery from the author of City Under One Roof.


On a frigid February day, Anchorage Detective Cara Kennedy stands by the graves of her husband and son, watching as their caskets are raised from the earth. It feels sacrilegious, but she has no choice. Aaron and Dylan disappeared on a hike a year ago, their bones eventually found and buried. But shocking clues have emerged that foul play was involved, potentially connecting them to a string of other deaths and disappearances. 

 

Somehow tied to the mystery is Mia Upash, who grew up in an isolated village called Unity, a community of women and children in hiding from abusive men. Mia never imagined the trouble she would find herself in when she left home to live in Man’s World. Although she remains haunted by the tragedy of what happened to the man and the boy in the woods, she has her own reasons for keeping quiet.

 

Aided by police officer Joe Barkowski and other residents of Point Mettier, Cara’s investigation will lead them on a dangerous path that puts their lives and the lives of everyone around them in mortal jeopardy.




About the author

Born in Missouri, raised in Hawaii and having lived in Guam, California, and Japan, Iris Yamashita was able to experience a diversity of culture while growing up. She studied engineering at U.C. San Diego and U.C. Berkeley and also spent a year at the University of Tokyo studying virtual reality. Her first love, however, has always been fiction writing which she pursued as a hobby on the side.


Iris submitted her first screenplay to a competition where she was discovered by an agent at the Creative Artists Agency (CAA) who offered to represent her. Her big break came when she was recruited to write the script LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA for Clint Eastwood. LETTERS was named “Best Picture” by both the National Board of Review and the Los Angeles Film Critics Association. It received a Golden Globe award for “Best Foreign Language Film” of 2006 and was nominated for 4 Oscars including “Best Picture” and “Best Original Screenplay.” 


CITY UNDER ONE ROOF is her debut mystery novel set in a tiny Alaskan town where everyone lives in a single high-rise building.


Iris continues to work in Hollywood, developing for both film and streaming media and has also dabbled in writing a musical for a Japanese theme park with Tony Award-winning composer, Jeanine Tesori. She has taught screenwriting at the University of California, Los Angeles and the American Film Institute. 


Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Murder Road

 Welcome to my tour for Murder Road which is hosted by Berkley , Penguin Random House


Murder Road 

Author : Simone St. James 

Publisher :Berkley Publishing Group, Berkley

Pub date : Mach 5, 2024 

Genres : 

Format : ARC 

Source: Publisher / NetGalley 

PRICE $29.00 (USD)

PAGES 352

Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Horror fiction, Ghost story, Suspense, Paranormal fiction

Rating : 5

Buy links :


Would I recommend it ? Yes ,  in fact as soon I saw the invite to read and review I went and told my bookish friends about it . 

Would I read more by this author ? Yes , she's one of my favorite authors .


First off a big thank you to the publisher Berkeley as well as to the author Simone St. James for the invite to read what is now one of my new all time favorite books , even though so far I've only read 2 others of this author's works and out of the 2 them my other all time favorite one is Broken Girls. And just like that this one pulled me in from the very start to the point where I was screaming at the characters and telling them that they had made a mistake not only a little one but a big one , that they needing to remember the rules of the slasher movies , it was everything I was hoping it would be, dark, twist , creepy as well as spooky , and I loved how the author used one ghost part of the story , because even today there is talk about people driving late at night on a lonely road and stopping to pick someone up only to realize that they was now by themselves in the car . With that said this is the perfect story to read when its dark and stormy or just want to  read  have a spooky read . 






ABOUT THE BOOK


A young couple find themselves haunted by a string of gruesome murders committed along an old deserted road in this terrifying new novel from the New York Times bestselling author of The Book of Cold Cases.


July 1995. April and Eddie have taken a wrong turn. They’re looking for the small resort town where they plan to spend their honeymoon. When they spot what appears to a lone hitchhiker along the deserted road, they stop to help. But not long after the hitchiker gets into their car, they see the blood seeping from her jacket and a truck barreling down Atticus Line after them.


When the hitchhiker dies at the local hospital, April and Eddie find themselves in the crosshairs of the Coldlake Falls police. Unexplained murders have been happening along Atticus Line for years and the cops finally have two witnesses who easily become their only suspects. As April and Eddie start to dig into the history of the town and that horrible stretch of road to clear their names, they soon learn that there is something supernatural at work, something that could not only tear the town and its dark secrets apart, but take April and Eddie down with it all.



ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Simone St. James is the New York Times bestselling author of The Sun Down Motel and The Broken Girls. She spent twenty years behind the scenes in the television business before leaving to write full-time. To learn more visit simonestjames.com and follow her on social media:

Facebook.com/simonestjames | Twitter: @simone_stjames | Instagram: @simonestjames

Saturday, March 9, 2024

What Grows in the Dark

 Welcome to my blog tour stop for What Grows in the Dark which is been hosted by Harlequin 



Title : What Grows In The Dark
Author : Jaq Evans 
Rating : 4
Genre : Horror LGBT thriller 
Would I recommend it? Yes 
Would  I read more by this author? Yes 
First off like always I want to say a big  thank you to the publisher Harlequin , the author Jaq Evans , as well as to NetGalley for the invite .Now on to my thoughts about this book : Perfect reading Material for a cold wet night , especially when  your up by yourself , even though it starts out slow , the more you read the more you want to keep going because this story is dark, twisted, spooky as hack and with the right amount of the Supernatural to make you think there's something outside watching you .And though out my time reading it brought up a case I remember watching about on Tv a while back and that case was the Blair Witch Project , not only did it kinda remind me about it , it also give off the same vibes to the point that I didn't want to go outside or even look out though me bedroom window . So if you like those types of feelings then this book is right up your alley . 






1: BRIGIT 


Connecticut 

October 2019

An Attic 



Brigit Weylan slid her fingers across the vintage tape recorder in her lap, the plastic warm as living skin. 

    “Are you picking anything up?” Ian asked, snaking a hand beneath the camera on his shoulder to massage his trapezius. He caught her watching and she cut her eyes away, thumbed off her mic. 

    “Nothing but your breathing.”

    “It’s ambience. And we’re stalling because…” 

    She shifted on the pine floor. Pinkish clouds of insulation erupted from the walls on either side, and the ceiling sloped aggressively. It was a delicate maneuver to uncross and stretch out her legs in this tight space, but her foot was at risk of falling asleep. Brigit switched her mic back on. 

    “Sorry for the technical difficulties. We’re getting a little interference, which is actually a good sign—

     At the far end of the attic, a cardboard box fell off its stack. Papers spilled across the plywood in a plume of dust that brought the moldering scent of dried mouse droppings. Ian coughed but kept the camera level. In the living room downstairs, the baby goth who’d hired them would have a perfect view. 

    “Hello?” Brigit asked calmly, holding in her own cough as her throat burned. “Logan, is that you?” 

     Logan Messer, struck down by a heart attack in 1998. Craggy of face and black of eye, he’d glared up from the obituary they’d found in the Woodbridge library like a nineteenth-century oil magnate. Definitely the most likely of several spirits that could be haunting Haletown House. At least, that’s what Brigit and Ian had told its newest occupant. 

    A gust of wind ruffled the scattered papers in the corner, although the attic had no windows and the rest of the air sat thick and claustrophobic. Dust motes swirled through the wedges of light cast by the single hanging bulb. Brigit pushed her short hair back from her forehead and presented Ian’s camera with an unobstructed slice of profile. 

     “Logan, my name is Brigit Weylan. My sister and I are here to help you find peace.” She took a moment to steady her voice. “Is Emma with you now?” 

     From the corner came a sharp rap like knuckles on wood. At the same time Ian strangled another cough in the crook of his arm, nearly drowning out the knock. Brigit kept the tension from her face by digging her fingertips into her thighs. A small black hole had opened in her chest where her sister’s name had passed. 

    “I know you don’t want to leave, but I promise you’ll be happier once you do. All you need to do is take Emma’s hand and you’ll be free.” 


   The knocking came again, louder. Brigit had expected an echo, but the air seemed to catch the sound. The rest of the house was so chilly, all its warmth trapped up here like breath. Whatever mice had left those droppings probably suffocated. Little mummies in the walls. 

    “Brigit,” Ian murmured. “Can you see them?” 

    “I can’t see anything.” She licked her lips. Her tongue felt dry, chalky with dust. “But Logan is here. I can feel him in the room with us. I may need to move—don’t lose me.” Brigit raised her voice. “Emma, I’m with you. Let me help. Let me give you strength.” 

    She stretched her hand toward the corner. The knocking was a drumbeat now, even faster than her pulse. Slowly, Brigit shifted to her knees and readied herself to crawl toward that wedge of darkness—and the drumming stopped. Ian let out his breath in a quiet whoosh. Brigit exhaled too, long and slow. Then she turned to face the camera and smiled. 

    “It’s done,” she told Haletown House’s youngest resident. 

    “This house is clean.”



    The boy who’d paid for their services was waiting on the couch when Brigit and Ian climbed down from the attic. Brigit went first, Ian following with the camera bag now stuffed with their equipment: the laptop and its associated Bluetooth speaker, the miniature fan she’d hidden underneath the boxes, the fishing line trap in the corner. There were a few other props around the outside of the house—such as the rotten eggs in the upstairs gutter, which had been carefully planted in an early-morning excursion that had nearly put Ian in the hospital—but those were all biodegradable and couldn’t be traced back to them.

    In and out, that was the modus. They were surgeons like that, implanting a psychic placebo effect. Honestly, most of these people? They just wanted to feel believed. The rest wanted to see themselves on YouTube.

    Brigit hadn’t needed that moral reassurance when she finally agreed to Ian’s pitch for the series a year ago, but there was something about this kid today. A familiar sloppiness to the liner drawn below his pale blue eyes. He asked, “You think the old man’s really gone?” 

    “I hope so,” she said. Ian watched her from the doorway to the living room. Brigit could feel it on her neck as she dropped into a plush armchair. “You’ve got our contact info if he isn’t.” 

    The boy shrugged. “Guess I’ll be on the show either way.” 

    “Technically we need the waiver signed by someone over eighteen,” Ian put in. The kid looked at him while Brigit looked at the kid. Dyed black hair, chapped lips. His sneakers weren’t actually black, just Sharpied to a purplish gray. She sat forward. 

    “You’ll be on the show. Your birthday’s what, next year? This wouldn’t go online for a few months anyway. We can hold the episode.” 

    Why had she said that? It didn’t matter how old he was. Their first season hadn’t gotten picked up despite all attempts to woo a real television network, and neither would the second. Ian was fooling himself if he thought this thing was going to happen for real. 

    The kid smiled, and his eyeliner cracked. Discomfort fisted in Brigit’s chest. “Cool,” he said. “Thanks.” 

    “I do need something in exchange. If things keep happening around here, stuff only you can hear, smell, whatever? Tell your parents. Call us too, but you have to tell your folks.” 

    “Why? They’d lose their minds if they knew about this.” 


   “Because you’re a minor, and this isn’t exactly a hard science. If it turns out I screwed up in there and it comes back on you, I need to know you’ve got someone in this house who can get you out.”

    Or if he was in real trouble, the kind that could hit kids at around his age, that he would confide in someone other than a fake psychic out to pocket his summer cash. It was a moment of weakness, wanting this promise she’d never be able to confirm, but Brigit couldn’t stop herself. 

    The kid chewed at the inside of his lip. Something turned behind his eyes, a decision being weighed as Brigit held her ground. Then he grimaced. “What if I lied to you just now?” 

    “About what?”

    “They wouldn’t lose their minds. They wouldn’t care at all,” he said. “My dad doesn’t even live here. The house was a bribe to keep my mom from making his life more difficult, and she hates that she took it, so she just works all the time. I tried telling her before, about the old man, and she said I needed more friends. That was before the wine.” 

    The spike of decade-old commiseration at this was so sharp and startling that Brigit almost laughed. Behind the kid, Ian looked faintly stricken.

    “Got it,” she said briskly, and relief eased the kid’s shoulders. “How about a neighbor? Someone at school?” 

    “Ms. Brower, maybe. My English teacher?” 

    “Classic choice.” Brigit calibrated a wry smile and won half of one in return. “Okay. More weird stuff goes down, you tell Ms. Brower and then you call me. Deal?” She stretched her hand across the coffee table. 

    The kid hesitated. Behind her, Ian’s breathing was louder than anything else. Then a slim, chilly hand smacked into hers, and for a moment, Brigit wasn’t in this stranger’s living room at all. She was in the woods, the Dell, in the cold dark night, her sister’s icy fingers clamped around her own. 

    You want to be the wild child, Wild Child?

    “Deal,” said the kid. Brigit didn’t blink. The room came back to her, his grub-white face, cold palm against her own. Vanilla candles on the mantel. Nothing of Emma or their game but the bitter tinge of earth beneath her tongue.


Excerpted from What Grows in the Dark by Jaq Evans. Copyright © 2024 byJaq Evans. Published by MIRA.





BUY LINKS:

Bookshop.org: https://bookshop.org/p/books/what-grows-in-the-dark-

original-jaq-evans/20536343?ean=9780778369684 


B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/what-grows-in-the-dark-jaq-

evans/1144015673?ean=9780778369684 


Books A Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/What-Grows-Dark/

Jaq-Evans/9780778369684?id=8875782594791 


Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/What-Grows-Dark-Jaq-Evans/d

p/0778369684/ 


WHAT GROWS IN THE DARK

Jaq Evans

On Sale Date: March 5, 2024

9780778369684

Trade Paperback

$18.99 USD

304 pages


ABOUT THE BOOK:

The Babadook meets The Blair Witch Project in this chilling contemporary

horror novel about confronting trauma. When fake spiritualist Brigit returns

home to investigate the disappearance of two teenagers, the case eerily echoes h

er own sister's death sixteen years earlier.


This chilling tale of siblings, the emotional toll of the places you once called home,

and the necessity of confronting and moving beyond past trauma brings together t

he psychological horror of The Babadook with the found footage and supernatural

eeriness of The Blair Witch Project.

 

Brigit Weylan’s older sister, Emma, is dead. Sixteen years ago, Emma walked

into the woods in their small hometown of Ellis Creek and slit her wrists. She was troubled,

people said—moody and erratic in the weeks leading up to her death, convinced

hat there was a monster in Ellis Creek, and had even attempted to burn down the

copse of trees where she later took her life. Marked by the tragedy, Brigit left and never

once looked back. Now, Brigit and her cameraman Ian travel around the country,

investigating paranormal activity (and faking the results), posting their escapades on

YouTube in the hopes that a network will pick up their show. The last thing she expects

is a call from an Ellis Creek area code with a job offer—and payout—the two cannot refuse.

 

When Brigit and Ian arrive in Ellis Creek, they’re thrust in the middle of an investigation:

two teenagers are missing, and the trail is growing colder with each passing day.

t’s immediately apparent that Brigit and Ian are out of their depth; their talents lie

in faking hauntings,

not locating lost kids. Except for the fact that, in the weeks leading up to

their disappearance,

the teens had been dreaming about Emma—Emma in the woods where she died,

ringed with

trees and waiting for them. As Brigit and Ian are drawn further into the investigation,

convinced that this could be the big case to make their show go viral, the parallels to

Emma’s death become

undeniable. But Brigit is worried she’s gone too far this time, and that the weight of being

back in Ellis Creek, overwhelmed by memories of Emma, will break her…if it hasn’t already.

Because Brigit can’t explain what’s happening to her: trees appearing in her bedroom

in the middle of the night, something with a very familiar laugh watching her out in the

darkness, and Emma’s voice on her phone, reminding Brigit to finish what they started.

 

More and more, it looks like Emma was right: there is a monster in Ellis Creek,

and it’s waited a long time for Brigit Weylan to come home.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Jaq Evans is a graduate of the University of Southern Maine’s Stonecoast

MFA program and a former Pitch Wars mentee . Her short fiction has been

published in Three-Lobed Burning Eye, Apparition Literary Magazine,

Fusion Fragment, and others.

SOCIAL LINKS:

Author website: https://www.jaqevans.com/

Twitter: @jaqwrites

Instagram: @anomisting

Tuesday, March 5, 2024

The Zenith Man

 

 

Welcome to my reading corner , where we talk about the books I've read and think you should know about , and that you might be interested in. From the bad to good, to even audio books and before you ask you did read that right,buts its a new a year and I'm slowly getting in to them but I'm still going to be reading more books then audio books , each month the plan is to try and listing to 2 or 3 audio books and then talk about them , so pull up a set and if you want to get a drink. 

This is the start of the list of book I read in March , each post will have up to 5 books with short reviews on them of course some books might have this post as will as another post because their blog tour post or show case about them .

Today's book we're talking about is 


Zenith Man 

Author : McCracken Poston, Jr

Published by Kensington Books, Citadel

Pub date : Feb 20,2024

Genres : True crime and Biography

Pages : 296

Format : Hardback as well as ARC 

Source: Publisher Kensington Books ( for physical copy ) & NetGalley ( ARC) 

Buy links : 

Amazon : Zenith Man

Audible : Zenith Man

Barnes and noble : zenith man

Ration : 5 

Would I recommend it ? Yes 

Read it as a  buddy read

Now on to my thoughts : 

First off a big thanks to the publisher Kensington as well as to the author McCracken Poston Jr, for sending me a copy of Zenith Man, and to my friend for reading this with me as a buddy read . Two of the main reasons I said yes was 1: it's true crime ( and I love reading true crime) and 2nd : I've never even heard anything about this case until now. And I kept wondering why.And yes this question was in fact answered in the book , so I guess you could  say I went into this book blind since I knew nothing at all about this case. In which I'm glad I did because I actually enjoyed it and loved talking about  it with my friend, from how hard working McCracken was, to how Alvin Ridley acted, how reading the parts of the Trial actually made both of us feel like we was actually there, how I was so glad Alivn's sister in law got put in her place , and I especially enjoyed how the medical talk was wrote in a way that not only explained it but also in a way where I could understand it . Other win for this book besides the black and white photos that's  init , is that  you get to see the people themselves as actual people and not fictional ones , you see their lives come to life right off the page, and of course there was a few funny parts to it but even they didn't take away from the story. In fact this book was so much more it was told in away that it felt that you walked away known both the author himself and Alvin Ridley . 

Like a nonfiction John Grisham thriller with echoes of Rainman, Just Mercy, and a captivating smalltown Southern setting, this is the fascinating true story—sometimes humorous, sometimes heartbreaking—of an idealistic young lawyer determined to free an innocent neurodivergent man accused of murdering the wife no one knew he had.


An inspiring argument for compassion in the pursuit of true justice for readers of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil and Just Mercy.


Was this small-town TV repair man “a harmless eccentric or a bizarre killer” (Atlanta Journal Constitution). For the first time, Alvin Ridley’s own defense attorney reveals the inside story of his case and trial in an extraordinary tale of friendship and an idealistic young attorney’s quest to clear his client’s name—and, in the process, rebuild his own life.


In October 1997, the town of Ringgold in northwest Georgia was shaken by reports of a murder in its midst. A dead woman was found in Alvin Ridley’s house—and even more shockingly, she was the wife no one knew he had.


McCracken Poston had been a state representative before he lost his bid for U.S. Congress and returned to his law career. Alvin Ridley was a local character who once sold and serviced Zenith televisions. Though reclusive and an outsider, the “Zenith Man,” as Poston knew him, hardly seemed capable of murder.


Alvin was a difficult client, storing evidence in a cockroach-infested suitcase, unwilling to reveal key facts to his defender. Gradually, Poston pieced together the full story behind Virginia and Alvin’s curious marriage and her cause of death—which was completely overlooked by law enforcement. Calling on medical experts, testimony from Alvin himself, and a wealth of surprising evidence gleaned from Alvin’s junk-strewn house, Poston presented a groundbreaking defense that allowed Alvin to return to his peculiar lifestyle, a free man.


Years after his trial, Alvin was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, a revelation that sheds light on much of his lifelong personal battle—and shows how easily those who don’t fit societal norms can be castigated and misunderstood. Part true crime, part courtroom drama, and full of local color, Zenith Man is also the moving story of an unexpected friendship between two very different men that changed—and perhaps saved—the lives of both.



About the author

McCracken King Poston, Jr. was born and raised in Catoosa County in Northwest Georgia. A four-term member of the Georgia House of Representatives, his world unraveled after a number of personal and professional setbacks, including a losing bid for the U.S. Congress. 


Soon, Poston found himself representing a most unusual client - a man once revered as a natural TV repairman who had also suffered several downfalls, including being accused of holding his wife captive in their basement for almost three decades before killing her. Poston went on to complete the representation of Alvin "Zenith Man" Ridley, and the community was shocked to hear the truth of what went on at the dilapidated house in Ringgold, Georgia. 


Only recently, Alvin Ridley was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, which explains much about how throughout his life he was misunderstood by his community.


Poston's first book is a story of redemption, of more than one man in Catoosa County, Georgia.


Poston went on from this case to a distinguished career as a criminal defense lawyer, with cases featured on television's "Forensic Files," A&E's "American Justice," and several national publications. He and his secretary continue to help Mr. Ridley, now eighty-one, making and getting him to appointments, and helping him navigate a neurotypical world.

Sunday, February 18, 2024

A Step Past Darkness

 Welcome to my blog tour for a Step Past Darkness which is been hosted by Park Row Books, Hanover Square Press, MIRA Books, Graydon House, Canary Street Press , HarperCollinsPublishers | Harlequin Trade Publishing











On Sale Date: February 20, 2024

9780778310761

Hardcover

$30.00 USD

Fiction / Thrillers / Psychological 

448 pages

Rating 5 

Would I recommend it? Yes , in fact I've told me friends that they need to check this one out as well as her other book.

Would I read anything else by this author ? Yes , she's becoming one of my favorite authors to read .

Now on to my thoughts

First off a big thank you to to the publisher as well as to the author Vera Kurian and to NetGalley for not only the invite to read and review A Step Passed Darkness but also for helping me to find a new favorite book for 2024 , in fact this was my all time favorite book for January , it had every thing in it that I loved , from a creepy town setting to a group of friends that see something they shouldn't have , as well as a very creepy cult that  was down right twisted , and it had me setting on the edge of my bed the inter time I was reading it , it remind me of one of my all time books by Stephen King it , and with each turn of the page I kept wondering who was going to make it out alive , like I said  it had everything I love in a good horror or thriller , twisted , creepy , dark, fast page from the start , with a mixture of the  supernatural elements that hooks me as well , and just like my other favorite book by her NEVER SAW ME COMING,  I stayed up reading  it  until I was at the very last page. So with these last words to you if you love : dark, twisted, as well as  Sinister books then this is the one for you 

1

August 17, 2015

The mountain had existed long before there had been anyone around to name it, pushed up by the inevitable forces that made the Appalachian Range millions of years ago. Hulking, it stood with a peculiar formation at its apex, two peaks like a pair of horns, giving the mountain its eventual name of Devil’s Peak. The coal mine inside was abandoned long ago.

On the southern side of Devil’s Peak was the town of Wesley Falls, where there were no remnants of the mine except for the overgrown paths crisscrossing up to two entrances, ineffectually boarded up, partially hidden but available to anyone looking hard enough. Down the western side were the steeper paths, far more overgrown with vegetation, leading down to the abandoned town of Evansville. That side of the mountain and beyond grew strange because of the coal fire that had been burning underground for almost a century. The Bureau of Mines had managed to contain the fire to the western side of the mountain so that only Evansville suffered. Only Evansville had bouts of noxious gases, open cracks of brimstone in the roads, residents complaining of hot basements and well water. Over time they left town, leaving behind a ghost.

Unlike its unfortunate neighbor, Wesley Falls had avoided the mine fire and transitioned from a coal-mining town to something not unlike Pennsylvania suburbia. It was the sort of town where one of the billboards outside the Golden Praise megachurch proclaimed, “Wesley Falls: the BEST place to raise a family!” and most adults agreed with that assessment. The sort of place where the city council had voted against a bid to allow a McDonalds to open, arguing that it would “lead to the deterioration of the character of Wesley Falls.” This had less to do with concerns about childhood obesity or dense traffic than it did a desire to keep the town trapped in amber. The sort of town where the sheriff was the son of the previous sheriff. 

Jia Kwon, stepping off a train at the station some miles away from Wesley Falls, looked around the crowded station for that son—the sheriff—now in his thirties, though she had trouble picturing this. Sheriff Zachary Springsteen had an air of formality that she couldn’t match up with the image of the boy she knew from high school, whom everyone called Blub. He was an inoffensive, nondescript kid who delivered papers via his clackety bike, who then grew to be the generic teen who stood in the back row of yearbook pictures. She had always been friendly with him, but never quite friends, starting from when she had transferred from St. Francis to the Wesley Falls public school system and Blub sat next to her in homeroom.

Was the fact that she had chosen to keep in contact with this not-quite-friend after she moved away from Wesley Falls an accident? No—she knew that now. Blub had been the perfect person to report back town news over the years because he never suspected her interest was anything more than curiosity. Their exchanges over the years had been just enough for him to feel comfortable, or compelled enough, to make the phone call that had brought her here.

Jia paused to put her phone in her purse, pretending she did not notice any stares. No one looked twice at her in Philly, but here she stood out as the only Asian, drawing even more attention to herself because she had dyed her hair a shade of silvery gray with hints of lavender in it. It would only be worse when she got into town, but even as a kid she had been so used to being stared at that she just exaggerated her strangeness, opting for bright clothes rather than trying to blend in.

“Jia?” said an uncertain voice.

She turned her head and instantly recognized Blub, who stood with the gawky awkwardness of someone uncomfortable with his own height. “Blub!” she exclaimed, coming closer. She embraced him, her head only coming up to his midchest. “You’ve grown two feet!”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, smiling. “Want to ask me if I play basketball?” Their smiles felt hollow, she realized, because of the strangeness of the situation and everything they weren’t saying. “I appreciate you taking the time to come out here. I know you’re probably busy but…” He led her to his patrol car. “Sorry, you’ll have to ride in the back.”

“It’s no problem,” she murmured, surprised to see that he had brought someone along for the ride.

“This is Deputy Sheriff Henry,” Blub said, turning the car on. A smaller man whom she did not recognize half turned and nodded at her curtly, though Jia could see him looking at her in the rearview mirror as they pulled away from the station. What on earth had Blub told him?

That once, in one of their email exchanges, when he complained about having to repair his roof, she made a joke about which team to bet on for the Super Bowl, and he did, and she had been right? That she had one too many stock tips that turned out to be good? That she inexplicably sent him a “You okay?” email at 8:16 a.m. on September eleventh, thirty minutes before American Airlines Flight 11 crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center? There had been enough incidents as strange as these that when he called her last year asking for help, it felt like something clicking into place. Something that was supposed to happen. Over the years, she had started to feel comfortable with that clicking feeling, rather than being afraid of it. Last winter he had called her saying that Jane Merrick was missing from the old-folks home—she was prone to running— and she was outside in the freezing weather in only a nightgown, and they were worried about her. He did not say why he was asking her, a person who hadn’t lived in Wesley Falls for two decades, a person who neither knew nor liked Jane Merrick. She told him to look in the barn on the Dandriges’ property without providing an explanation of how she knew. She knew because she saw it. She knew because sometimes she could call up things when she wanted to, though not all the time, but this was still significantly better than when she was a kid and she couldn’t control when the visions hit her, or stop them, or even understand them.

And now, in the peak of summer heat, he had called again, saying that there was a missing person, could she help, friends were worried. She did not ask who because she felt something like the deepest note on a double bass vibrating, reverberating through her body. She saw herself walking, her white maxi dress—the one she was wearing right now—catching on brambles as she maneuvered her way down the overgrown path to the ghost town.

She had to go back to Wesley Falls. It was time.

“You all went to school together?” Deputy Sheriff Henry said when they pulled onto the highway.

“Yeah,” she said. “We didn’t overlap with you, did we?” Henry shook his head. “Blub and I go way back,” she said, meeting Blub’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“I’ll never get over the fact that people call you Blub,” Henry remarked. “How’d you get that name anyway? Were you chubby or something?”

“I don’t think there’s an origin story,” Blub said, looking like he wanted the subject to change.

“I remember!” Jia exclaimed. “It’s when you threw up in fourth grade.” She leaned forward, pressing against the grate that divided the car, addressing Henry directly. “It was during homeroom. He threw up on his pile of books. I remember because it was clear and ran down the sides like pancake syrup.”

Henry laughed and Blub flushed. “Jia, you can’t remember that because you weren’t there. You were at St. Francis in grade school!”

She stopped laughing abruptly. “I could have sworn I remember that happening!”

“Sometimes when enough people tell you a story, you start to remember it like you were there,” Henry mused.

Sometimes, Jia thought. But there were other people who could see things that had happened or would happen, even if they weren’t there.

As they drove down the highway and drew closer to Wesley Falls, the mood shifted to an anxious silence. Jia checked her phone for anything work related. She ran a small solar panel company called Green Solutions with her two best friends, both hyper-competent, both probably picking up on Jia’s strange tone when she said she had to go back home for a short trip. They probably thought that it had to do with the settling of her mother’s estate, and Jia, even though she was uncomfortable with lying, allowed them to believe this. When her mother had died, Jia had come to Wesley Falls to liquidate everything in The Gem Shop and sell the store itself to the least annoying bidder: a fifty-something-year-old former teacher who wanted to open a bakery. A significant part of the decision had been not that her baked items were good—they were—but something about her aggressive combinations of spices had seemed witchy, and, most importantly, she did not attend Golden Praise. Jia’s mother, Su-Jin, would have approved.

And now, with Blub turning off the highway, her heart felt torn in different directions. Wesley Falls wasn’t home, but it was, because it was where most of her memories of Su-Jin lived. As the car moved it felt as if they traveled through an invisible veil, something that felt uncomfortable in a way she could not put into words anyone else would understand, but was familiar and, she knew, strange. Strange like how she was strange.

But then it came: the feeling that arose every time she had gone home to visit her mother—the feeling that she shouldn’t be here. Except this time, it was worse. They had just arrived in Wesley Falls, passing Wiley’s Bar, which was on the outskirts of town. It was frequented by truckers stopping for a cheap burger and beer.

“That place is still here?” she murmured.

“They got karaoke now,” Blub offered.

“Please kill me,” Jia responded, trying to sound light. Blub laughed, then turned onto Throckmartin Lane. The street hadn’t changed in twenty years: it still housed Greenbriar Park, which everyone called “The Good Park,” and the larger homes where the wealthier families lived. Built before McMansions had hit this part of Pennsylvania, the houses differed in their architecture—some colonial, some farmhouse—but were all similar with their immaculate lawns, American flags, and WESLEY FALLS FOOTBALL signs.

Blub slowed to a stop, making eye contact with her in the rearview mirror. He was waiting for directions.

She gestured for him to turn onto Main Street, that old, curved road with the bottom half of the C drawn out like a jaw that had dropped wide open—it was impossible to drive anywhere in Wesley Falls without driving on Main Street at some point. They passed the police station, then the row of shops. Some of the mom-and-pop stores that lined Main Street had changed, but Wesley Falls still didn’t have a Target, a chain grocery store, or a reasonable place to buy clothes. Indeed, the best place to raise a family was apparently a place where you had to drive ten miles to the mall to get many of the things people wanted. She gazed at the bakery that used to be The Gem Shop. Spade’s Hardware was still there—her mother had had a grudging friendship with the owners. The candy shop had changed ownership but it was still a candy shop. They drove along the north side of town, by the lake and the Neskaseet River—called Chicken River by locals because of its proximity to and usage by the chicken processing plant at the north edge of town.

Wesley Falls and Evansville had both popped up in the 1800s, their economies at first built entirely around the Wesley coal mine, which resided inside Devil’s Peak. No matter how many times well-meaning adults attempted to close off the entrance of the mine, which had been abandoned in the 1930s when the coal ran out, high school kids always found their way in. Drawn to the allure of ghost stories, rumors that if you found the right path you could find the mine fire in Evansville, and the inevitable urban legends about the Heart.

Jia pointed and Blub turned onto the unpaved road that crossed the Neskaseet and wound up the side of Devil’s Peak to Evansville. From this elevation, she could see the entire tiny, abandoned town. The simple, squared-off eight shape of the town’s few roads, the dilapidated strip of larger buildings at the center, then the rectangles of homes, all identical because they had been provided by the mining company.

The road came to an end, trees and shrubbery blocking their passage. Blub put the car in Park, turning to face Jia. “Can’t drive farther.”

“Then we walk,” she said. She led the way, ignoring the looks from both men as she freed herself from prickly branches that caught onto her dress. Blub used his nightstick to whack away a tangle of vegetation, then Jia found a path that led down to the town.

It smelled like sulfur with a hint of cigar. Jia picked her way gingerly down the main road, which was buckled and cracked in places, then turned a corner behind the old church and stopped. There was someone in the road wearing a bright fuchsia shirt. She could only see the top half of the figure’s body. The lower part, from the stomach down, was trapped inside the road in what looked like a fresh sinkhole.

Jia knew without looking. Some part of her had known from the moment Blub called her. He needed help finding a missing person, but he hadn’t said who. This was the thing that had pulled her back, made her feel an insistent anxiety for the past few months.

Blub and Henry were running to the body, the latter yelling. When Jia finally approached, Blub was trying to get a pulse. She watched the two men huddle over the body, Henry almost making an attempt to pull her from the chasm before Blub stopped him. This could be a crime scene.

Blub sat back on his haunches. The fuchsia T-shirt was soaked with last night’s rain. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, tendrils stuck to the sides of her face. That face. Familiar but different. She’s still so pretty, Jia thought. Her mouth was open and a scratch stood out livid on her pale cheek. Her eyes were closed.

“It’s her,” Blub stated.

“Maddy Wesley,” Henry said, disturbed and awed.

“You knew that Maddy was the missing person? You didn’t tell me,” Jia said, trying to keep her voice stable.

Blub remained crouched, his elbows on his knees with his hands dangling down. “Didn’t think I needed to,” he stated, his voice devoid of the warmth it had had while in the car. He didn’t look at her as he examined the scene, and it occurred to Jia that he was actually the sheriff. Not Blub, the kid who threw up on his pile of books, but an actual agent of the law.

Jia edged backward, fearful that the road could break under her.

“You know her?” Henry asked.

His gaze made her self-conscious. Jia had never been a good liar. Much of the lying she had done that summer so many years ago had been by omission. She was working on a project. She was hanging out with Padma. These things had been true, but misleading.

“She was in our year,” Jia managed. “We all went to high school together.”

Blub’s eyes went from the body to Jia. “You weren’t friends, though, were you?” Maddy ran with the popular crowd, the Golden Praise crowd. Jia had been the opposite of that.

“No,” she said finally. “We weren’t friends.”


Excerpted from A Step Past Darkness by Vera Kurian, Copyright © 2024 by Albi Literary Inc. Published by Park Row Books.  



ABOUT THE BOOK:

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER meets Stephen King in this character-driven thriller

about a study group of six teenagers who witness something tragic in an abandoned mine,

which comes back to haunt them 20 years later.

SIX CLASSMATES.

ONE TERRIFYING NIGHT.

A MURDER TWENTY YEARS IN THE MAKING...

There’s more to Wesley Falls than meets the eye, but for six high school students, it’s home.

Kelly, the new girl and rule-follower.

Maddy, the beauty and the church favorite.

Padma, the brains and all-A student.

Casey, the jock and football star.

James, the burnout and just trying to make it to graduation.

And Jia, the psychic, who can see the future.

When these six are assigned to work on a summer group project, their lives are forever

changed. At an end of the year party in the abandoned mine, they witness a preventable

tragedy, but no one will take them seriously. As things escalate, they realize the church, the

police, and the town’s founders are all conspiring to cover up what happened. When James is

targeted as the scapegoat, to avoid suspicion, they vow their silence and to never contact each

other again. Their plan works – almost.

Twenty years later, Maddy is found murdered is Wesley Falls, and the remaining five are forced

to confront their past and work together to finally put right what happened all those years ago. If

they can survive...






ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Vera Kurian is a writer and scientist based in Washington DC. Her debut novel, NEVER SAW

ME COMING (Park Row Books, 2021 was an Edgar Award nominee and was named one of the

New York Times’ Best Thrillers of 2021. Her short fiction has been published in magazines such

as Glimmer Train, Day One, and The Pinch. She has a PhD in Social Psychology, where she

studied intergroup relations, ideology, and quantitative methods. She blogs irregularly about

writing, horror movies and pop culture/terrible TV.

SOCIAL LINKS:

Author website: https://www.verakurian.com/

IG: https://www.instagram.com/verakurianauthor/?hl=en 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/vera_kurian

Village in the Dark

Welcome to my reading corner , where we talk about the books I've read and think you should know about , and that you might be intereste...