Night had fallen, and the woman looked down at the crumpled letter, as if, in absolute darkness, she could read the postscript: only a monster can play this game. In Chicago, and FBI agent is killed in a psychiatrist's waiting room. In New York, the jurors from a controversial trial are murdered one by one. The only connections between the two: a flamboyant shock-jock, who on-air comments seem to be taking him dangerously close to the edge, and a woman, her body misshapen since childhood, whose job it is to clean up crime scenes—and maybe create them as well. This is a federal case, and Mallory’s been told that the FBI wants no part of her. But she knows something nobody else does—and, besides when has she ever cared what anyone else wanted?
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