That Night

That Night: A Haunting Tale of Secrets Beneath the Surface

In the picture-perfect suburbs of 1958, best friends Tracy and Kathryn are looking forward to the spring dance—a night they believe will mark the start of something magical. But behind the poodle skirts and practiced smiles, something far more dangerous brews.

When Kathryn finally lands a date with Andy, the boy she’s quietly loved for years, it sets off a chain reaction of envy and hidden resentment. One reckless night, a split-second decision, and everything changes. Kathryn disappears, and Tracy’s search for the truth begins to unravel the carefully guarded lies of a town obsessed with appearances.

Raven Wolf’s That Night is a chilling coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of 1950s suburbia, exploring the fragile lines between friendship and rivalry, love and possession, innocence and guilt.

Get your copy of That Night—a gripping, unforgettable read for fans of dark secrets, vintage settings, and emotional suspense..

Excerpt from the book

The warm sunlight streaming through Kathryn’s bedroom window highlighted the faded signs of her neighborhood’s pride: a hand-painted “Welcome to Oakwood” on the corner house, a meticulously manicured lawn with a white picket fence, and a sidewalk lined with perfectly placed American flags. On Hubbard Street, where Kathryn lived, politics was a hot topic among the residents. Kathryn lay in bed, surrounded by the familiar comforts of her room, listening to Bobby Darin croon his latest hit, “Dreamlover.” She wore her favorite pair of shorts, a pale blue number with a slight flare at the hem, paired with crisp white tennis shoes that were scuffed from countless hours spent exploring the neighborhood.

Our protagonist, a young girl, is living in a small town in 1959. She’s walking down the main street, passing by the local diner and the five-and-dime store.

Kathryn stepped into the diner, scanning the counter for a familiar face. The bell above the door jangled behind her, announcing her arrival to the small-town crowd. She spotted Tracy sitting in the corner booth, her bright smile and curly hair a beacon of warmth in the din of the diner. Kathryn felt a flutter in her chest as she made her way over to join her friend.

As Kathryn slid into the booth across from Tracy, the vinyl creaked softly beneath her. Tracy, with her curly brown hair and bright smile, leaned forward, anticipation sparkling in her eyes. “So, Kathryn, spill the beans,” Tracy said, her gaze locked on her best friend’s face. “Do you have a date for the dance yet?” Kathryn shook her head, feeling a faint blush rise to her cheeks.

The waitress, a friendly woman with a warm smile, approached the booth, pen poised over her order pad. “What’ll it be, girls?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with familiarity. Kathryn and Tracy exchanged a glance before delivering their orders in unison. “Malts, please,” they chimed. “And a burger with fries.” The waitress nodded, scribbling down their request. “Coming right up, sweethearts.”

Tracy noticed Kathryn’s frown and reached out to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey, don’t be discouraged, Kat. Someone will ask you, I just know it. You’re beautiful and smart, and any guy would be lucky to take you to the dance.” Tracy’s voice was filled with conviction, but Kathryn couldn’t shake off the feeling of disappointment that had settled in her chest.

The waitress returned with their malts and burgers, setting the tray down in front of them with a clink. “Thanks, Betty!” Tracy chirped, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the food. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“Just doing my job, sweetie,” Betty replied, giving Kathryn a knowing smile. “And don’t you worry, honey. You’ll find a date for that dance. Just keep your chin up and your heart open.”

Kathryn smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Thanks, Betty. I’ll try to remember that.”

Tracy broke the silence, taking a sip of her malt before asking Kathryn again about the dance. “So, what are you going to wear if someone does ask you?” Kathryn looked down at her burger, picking at the bun with her fingers, still feeling a little down about not having a date yet.