Come With Me Read online

  You’ve got a hand extended toward me.

  I take it.

  In the car, the other version of you tells the other version of me, Two figures. Holding hands. Just for a moment—there and then gone.

  I squeeze your hand, Allison.

  Come with me.

  This time, we leave this world together.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  On June 28, 2018, my friend was murdered along with four other people while at work. A monster entered her office building with a shotgun and opened fire. The number of dead was announced but no names were given right away. I spent hours worrying if my friend, Wendi Winters, a reporter for The Capital, was okay. And I realized that even if she was, there were still five people dead, and there were friends and family members out there just like me hoping that they were okay, too.

  I met Wendi in 2006, when she came to my house to interview me about a book I’d written. Because she was a jack of all trades, she’d brought a camera, too, and took a photo of me standing by a fence. My wife made some snacks and we sat around our living room just talking. She hugged us both when she left.

  We kept in touch, and would meet infrequently for coffee, to discuss my writing, and to talk about our community, of which she was so fervently supportive. She invited me to her media bazaars, and we would check in with each other from time to time to see what was going on in our respective worlds. She got to know my family and me, not because it was her job as a reporter, but because she was a steadfast chronicler of our community; the heart of this nascent village; the truth in things. Because she was a good person who enjoyed getting to know people.

  Wendi traveled with me during the writing of this novel. She remained in my mind and heart, and I think this book is better for it, because a piece of her has made it into this story. In fact, it was my grief over what happened to my friend that started the story-machine in my head rolling. This book is a product of that grief, but also of our friendship. Because, sometimes, books are therapy.

  Rest easy, Wendi.

  RONALD MALFI

  June 3, 2019

  Annapolis, Maryland

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This book originated from a dark place, which means it takes the hard work and talent of a great many people to make it bright and good and palatable for public consumption. Many thanks to my editor, Sophie Robinson, whose keen eye helped elevate this story from what it could be to what it ultimately is, and to Hayley Shepherd for carrying us across the finish line. Thanks to my agents who toil quietly behind the scenes to keep the machine rolling—Cameron McClure, Katie Shea Boutillier, Matt Snow, and the tireless Cassie Graves for all her scheduling prowess. Gratitude to my friends and family who provided insight as I bounced ideas off them or read early drafts of this novel—Kevin Kangas, Tyre Lewis, my wife Debra, and my dad, Ron Malfi, Sr. Lastly, my appreciation for my two daughters, Madison and Hayden, who are always there to lift Dad from the dark depths of his writing into a world of sunshine, goodness, and love.

  Ronald Malfi is the award-winning author of several horror novels, mysteries, and thrillers. He is the recipient of two Independent Publisher Book Awards, the Beverly Hills Book Award, the Vincent Preis Horror Award, the Benjamin Franklin Award, and his novelb Floating Staircasebwas a finalist for the Bram Stoker Award. He lives with his wife and two daughters in Maryland.

  ronmalfi.com

  @RonaldMalfi

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