After ordering our coffee, we sat across the fireplace on the vintage leather couch. My eyes flickered to the big window, having seen a shadow out of the corner of my eye and worrying about who it could be.

“Liz, I feel like I keep having to look over my shoulder, and I hate it,” I confided. I never thought I’d ever be comfortable enough with Liz to confide in her.

When I lived in Salem, I could never get comfortable—almost as if I didn’t belong there. What is ...