Ghost 19


 
 
 
 PRAISE FOR
 The Book of Cold Cases
 “Lovers of true crime will get a kick out of this thriller that oozes atmosphere.”
 —Silvia Moreno-Garcia, New York Times bestselling author of Mexican Gothic
 “Simone St. James knows how to haunt you. . . . Will have you turning pages well past your bedtime and jumping at every little sound.”
 —Jennifer McMahon, New York Times bestselling author of The Drowning Kind
 “No one writes a ghost story like Simone St. James, whose uniquely spooky thrillers are as chilling as they are captivating.”
 —Laura McHugh, award-winning author of What’s Done in Darkness
 “This modern Gothic triumph is a cross between your most bingeworthy true crime podcast and The Haunting of Hill House.”
 —Wendy Webb, author of The Keepers of Metsan Valo
 “Prepare to lose some sleep. . . . [A] creepy thriller.”
 —PopSugar
 “Superbly entertaining. . . . When it comes to sending shivers down readers’ spines, St. James gives Shirley Jackson a run for her money, and her latest addictively readable novel will have one sleeping with the lights on.”
 —Library Journal (starred review)
 PRAISE FOR
 The Sun Down Motel
 “Deliciously creepy. A chilling blend of mystery and ghost story that will thrill fans of both.”
 —Riley Sager, New York Times bestselling author of Survive the Night
 “Simone St. James knows that true terror, as she effectively illustrates in The Sun Down Motel, goes beyond things that go bump in the night. . . . St. James deftly melds an engrossing mystery with a tense supernatural thriller. . . . Keeps the tension high with myriad surprising twists.”
 —The Associated Press
 “There are very few novels that leave me feeling genuinely spooked. . . . The Sun Down Motel is very much one of those books, taking twists and turns that are equal parts compelling and creepy.”
 —PopSugar
 “This creepy supernatural thriller will send shivers down your spine.”
 —Good Housekeeping
 “This novel is a creepy delight.”
 —The New York Post
 “When are we too old for ghost stories? As long as they are as taut and twisty as Simone St. James’s latest novel, make that never. . . . Readers of this thoroughly entertaining thriller won’t be disappointed.”
 —Minneapolis Star Tribune
 “Spooky, unsettling, and brilliantly written, The Sun Down Motel is mesmerizing from the first page.”
 —Jennifer Hillier, award-winning author of Jar of Hearts
 
 
 Titles by Simone St. James
 
 THE HAUNTING OF MADDY CLARE
 AN INQUIRY INTO LOVE AND DEATH
 SILENCE FOR THE DEAD
 THE OTHER SIDE OF MIDNIGHT
 LOST AMONG THE LIVING
 THE BROKEN GIRLS
 THE SUN DOWN MOTEL
 THE BOOK OF COLD CASES
 GHOST 19
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 BERKLEY
 An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
 penguinrandomhouse.com
 
 Copyright © 2022 by Simone Seguin
 Excerpt from The Book of Cold Cases by Simone St. James copyright © 2022 by Simone Seguin
 Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
 BERKLEY and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
 Ebook ISBN: 9780593547700
 Berkley audio edition / October 2022
 Berkley ebook edition / January 2023
 Cover design by Sarah Oberrender
 Cover photograph by Robert Norbury / Millennium Images, UK
 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 pid_prh_6.0_142201953_c0_r0
 
 
 
 For Adam
 
 
 Chapter One
 Meritville, New York
 1959
 NOW
 I opened my eyes when I heard footsteps at the front door. A man’s footsteps. Heavy, slow at first, then slightly hurried.
 I did not move. I was curled on the kitchen floor, my knees up, my shoulder aching, my cheek to the vinyl. Light came blue-gray through the high window above the sink. I was wearing a cotton slip and nothing else. My head pounded. My eyes were dry. I kept my fingers curled over the handle of the knife that rested on the floor.
 He came through the front door and moved down the hall. I heard him enter the sitting room, pause, then move out again. Looking for me, though he didn’t call out. He paused at the bottom of the steps, and I could practically hear him wonder to himself if he should ascend. If he’d find me in bed, tucked in, happily asleep. That would be an awkward moment, but it would be navigable, familiar, easy to understand. A moment that could happen between any man and woman on any sort of day.
 He thought it over, then he turned away from the staircase, and I closed my eyes. How did he know?
 It didn’t take him long—the house wasn’t very big. He checked the bathroom, looked out the back window in the sitting room, and then came into the kitchen, his steps coming toward me as inexorably as clockwork. I opened my eyes again and curled my knees higher, my hand gripping the knife a little more tightly. My head was pounding so hard my vision tried to blur.
 He paused at the kitchen doorway, undoubtedly taking me in. His feet came into my line of vision, then his lower legs. He wore casual trousers today, dark gray, and his shoes were immaculate. Of course they were.
 He hitched his trousers—that unconscious, uniquely male gesture—and dropped to a crouch. My temple gave a sickening throb. I was a picture, I was sure of it, but I couldn’t summon the will to care. I took a cold breath and tilted my head to