Bücher der Reihe Shaye Archer Series

Madison Avery is a young woman with a huge problem. From her penthouse apartment, she witnessed a murder in the building across the street, but by the time the police arrived, the crime scene had been wiped clean. Unfortunately, Madison suffers from prosopagnosia-face blindness-so even though she had a clear view of the murder, she can''t describe the victim or the killer. With no forensic evidence that a crime was committed and no description of the victim to match to a body, the police have no choice but to close the file.But Shaye Archer doesn''t have the same limitations.When Shaye hears Madison''s story, she believes the young woman saw exactly what she claims, and even though Shaye knows finding the killer will be next to impossible, she can''t turn down the distraught woman. Especially when she finds out that the killer saw Madison. Soon, the killer turns his attention to Madison, taunting her to heighten her fear, and Shaye is afraid his sights are set on his next victim.

Now you see me...Six years ago, five friends went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Four of them returned. One simply disappeared. Jenny Taylor has never gotten over the disappearance of her twin sister, Caitlyn, but now things are even worse. Caitlyn calls to Jenny in her dreams, begging her sister to find her. But Jenny''s memory of the entire night is completely gone. Shaye Archer knows better than anyone what it''s like to have gaping holes in your past, and how horrific dreams can cripple you. But this case presents problems on every level. An adult woman disappearing from the French Quarter during Mardi Gras is hard enough to get answers for, but when it happened years before, the difficulty level increases exponentially. But Shaye''s empathy for Jenny prevents her from saying no, even though she doesn''t expect to find anything.Then a witness is murdered, and Jenny''s memory starts to return. What did she see in the alley that night? And how many more are in danger because of it?

Street kids are disappearing, but how do you report it to the police when they don't believe you exist to begin with?Jinx LeDoux bolts upright, gasping for air, her heart pounding. Something has happened. Something she can't quite remember.Worse, she's surrounded by darkness.She puts her hands on the ground, trying to grasp something familiar. The splintered wood of her abandoned apartment isn't there. It's something hard, cold, and round.She grabs the bars with both hands, but they don't budge. She's in a cage.

Evil can always find an accomplice... Nine years ago, police found Shaye Archer wandering in the French Quarter, beaten and abused and with no memory of the previous fifteen years, not even her name. But her last case uncovered more than she ever anticipated.She's starting to remember."I'm launching an investigation," Shaye says. Eleonore, her friend and therapist sighs. "I figured you would." "I always knew my past was bad. It couldn't have been otherwise." Shaye holds up the piece of paper that had sent her life into a tailspin. "But I never imagined this."

Emma Frederick bolts upright in bed, pulse racing. It must be a bad dream.Except it's not.Crrrrrreeeeeeeeaaaaaaakkkkkkk.The sound of the loose step sends her body into overdrive, and she rushes for the secret room behind the wall. The screech of old hinges echoes through the house as he enters her bedroom.He starts whistling.Three blind mice. Three blind mice.She slaps a hand over her mouth, stifling her scream. He's coming for her, but that can't be.She killed him last month.

Amber Olivier awakens in a cold sweat, the bitter taste of blood in her mouth and her head throbbing. Not even a hint of light reaches her. She reaches left, right, and above, but within inches, her hands meet a solid structure covered with satin. She bangs on the top of the enclosure, but the cushioned fabric only creates a dull thud. Beyond panicked, she screams until her throat burns and she doesn't have another breath of air in her.And that's when it hits her.She's in a coffin.She screams again.

Father Nicolas Chatry pushes his wheelchair into the confessional and pulls back the small door that covers the screen between the booths when he hears someone enter."Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," a voice whispers. "Welcome," Nicolas says. "What do you have to confess?""I killed her."Nicolas's pulse shoots up, and he sucks in a breath. "Are you saying you willingly took the life of another person?""Yes. God is the reason I killed her. Will you absolve me, Father?"As Nicolas fumbles for his phone to send an urgent text for help, he hears the chair in the other booth squeak, and a shadow passes in front of the screen. His pulse pounds in his temples and he starts to sway, dizziness washing over him. Help isn't going to make it in time.