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A serial killer is murdering women, threading their bones back together, and leaving them for police to find. Detective Inspector Yvonne Giles must find him before more innocent victims die. Problem is, the killer wants her and will do anything he can to get her. Unaware that she, herself, is is a target, DI Giles risks everything to catch him.

A dark and haunting, serial killer thriller set in Wales

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"I love D.I. Yvonne Giles and her team! Her logic and her mind in solving the case is indeed inspiring! I could not put this book down like all of her books, Ms Morgan has the reader gripped from the start in what is invariably one of her best novels to date."

​"This book has a darker feel to it than some of the others by this author... the crime scene is really unusual, original and terrible... but, unlike other books of this genre, the reader is told enough to understand the horrific nature of this crime without pages and pages of graphic detail and description. In some ways, this allows your imagination to really take over."

​"this is a very enjoyable book. The story flows well, making it easy to get immersed and lose track of time. I look forward to reading Miss Morgan’s next book."

​"absolutely love Anna Marie Morgan books once I start reading one every thing else gets put on hold..... Just about to start book 8.."

​"I read everything from Anna-marie Morgan. She is one of my favourite authors. I hope number eight will soon be available."

"​He sniffed the acrid air in short bursts, allowing it to tease the hair in his nostrils until he sneezed. The smell of burning, scratching at the membranes of his nose, as the bit drilled into the bone held by the clamp and stand. He lifted up his hinged, close-work lenses and blew at the hole, flicking the lenses back in place to examine the tiny corridor. The fruits of his labour. 
He released the bone from the clamp, replacing it with another, all the while humming ‘Yellow’ by Coldplay, the tune off-key, licking the film of vaporised material from his lips, as he recommenced drilling.
Below him, on the polythene-covered floor, the rest of the remains. Cleaned-up bones. Situated as they would have been in life. All that was left of the person before. 
Several days he had applied himself. And, now, laid out in all its glory, the prepped scaffolding ready to take the wire which would once more articulate it. 
He grabbed the roll, unwinding just enough before snipping it with cutters. He resisted licking the end before threading it through the pre-made holes and winding it together to finish the connection.
In a far corner of the room, a metal bin contained the cooked-off flesh. Pig food. It smelled bad. He didn’t like it. Later that night he would get rid."

�“Shall we dance?”
The bones clacked together as he grabbed both wrists and hoisted them up. He whirled his macabre partner round the room, polythene crackling beneath his feet, his hands sweaty inside latex gloves. The humming louder now and even more off-key. His glazed eyes wide and unblinking. The skull of his dance partner, angled backwards. Her bones clacking time with the music in his head.
He continued for several minutes in this fantasy. A room full of people. Admirers of a couple at one and in motion. Staring at them. Wanting to be them. 
He whirled her around, her backbone against his torso, his voice taking on a menacing growl. “Stepping on my toes? Why are you stepping on my toes?” He took hold of one wrist, twisting it up behind her back with his right hand, whilst he rammed his left forearm into her throat. “You watching him? Is that it? I’m not good enough? I’m never good enough for you.”
He turned her back around to face him, his gloved hand gripping her lower jaw. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking. Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been there in your head.”