A friend once told me that the world needs psychopaths, but I’m not sold that the world needed my father. I only know that I did.
Poppy Pratt was a teenager when she watched her father murder her boyfriend. Only a child when she made the call that would put her dad away for the rest of his life. She watched the sheriff lead him off, her father still laughing at the Alabama moon, his arms slick with Shawn’s blood.
Eighteen years later, Poppy is a chiropractor with a thriving practice and a house in suburban New Hampshire. She even goes on the occasional date. So, when a mysterious stranger shows up at her house claiming that her father is stalking him, Poppy blows him off. Her dad is in prison—psychopath or not, he’s no threat. And though this man is writing a book about her dad, she can see no reason for anyone to go after him.
But when Poppy receives an unmarked package, her carefully constructed world begins to crumble. A severed ear would throw most anyone off their game. The stranger was right—it might not be her dad, but someone is watching, and they’re after Poppy, too. Could it be an angry family member of one of her father’s victims? An obsessed serial killer fan? But even when Poppy’s new author friend is viciously attacked, she can’t call the police. Shawn wasn’t her father’s only victim, and her stalker clearly knows enough to implicate her in her father’s crimes.
It seems she’s destined to go down the same way her father did—with her hands covered in blood. The only question is whether she’ll be the one holding the knife.