All I heard were mangled words as she lay before me, dead, naked, flat on her back, about two feet from a well-worn sofa. “I know her . . . ,” I whispered to no one.
FBI Detective Decland Dupree arrives at the crime scene, where the recipient of his first childhood kiss lies in a pool of blood. Not fifteen minutes later, the body of a man is found next door.
The most sadistic serial killer in New Orleans history is on the prowl, raping and killing both men and women. When another woman from Deck’s past is killed, the young detective is flooded with questions.
How does this maniac know these women?
Why is the FBI deputy director sabotaging his efforts to capture the killer?
And, most hauntingly, who’s next?
As the Absinthe Killer continues to evade arrest, Deck is relieved of duty. But he’s far from giving up—and, unfortunately for Deck, the FBI knows it.