Exit 47B

The exit is not on any map. It appears at 2:14 in the morning, and only to people who are running.

Billie Corado has been on the road for nineteen months, hauling repossessed vehicles under names that are not hers, staying ahead of a manslaughter warrant for a wreck she says she did not cause.

At 2:13 a.m. on Interstate 47, the investigators are three car lengths behind her. At 2:14, a green sign appears where there was only guardrail.

EXIT 47B. FENWRIGHT

The cruiser behind her drives straight past it. Nobody else sees the ramp.

Fenwright has a diner that never closes, a clock stuck at 2:14, and a woman behind the counter who has been pouring coffee since 1974. It has a sheriff's office with no sheriff and a records room full of names. It will let Billie stay as long as she likes. It will even let her leave.

It just wants to know what she is willing to leave behind.

The other people in the diner all arrived the same way. One of them can no longer remember his daughter's name.

A slow-burn supernatural suspense novel about guilt, bargains, and the difference between escaping a thing and answering for it. For readers who like their horror quiet, their small towns wrong, and their endings earned.