When six mummified bodies are unearthed from a mass grave by a Los Angeles creek, Detective Harriet "Harri" Harper thinks she's seen the worst humanity has to offer. She's wrong. One of the victims shares a name with a woman who's very much alive—a woman who's been running from this moment for twenty-five years.

This discovery launches Harri into a career built on hunting the most twisted predators imaginable. Each case pulls her deeper into the minds of killers who don't just murder—they create art from atrocity, turning victims into collections, trophies, and twisted masterpieces.

The Creek Killer taught her that some secrets are buried so deep they fossilize into bone. But that was just the beginning.

From the fog-shrouded woods of Oregon where a decades-old conspiracy claims new victims, to Hollywood's glittering facade that masks a trafficking network serving human dolls to the elite—Harri follows the blood trail wherever it leads. She's faced a medieval torturer who practices his craft on LA's homeless, a surgical precision killer who collects eyes like precious gems, and family annihilators who turn picture-perfect homes into slaughterhouses.

Each predator is more methodical than the last. Each crime scene more elaborately staged. Each killer more convinced that murder is the ultimate art form.

But Harri has learned something these monsters don't expect: the best way to catch a predator is to think like one. She's walked through their twisted logic, anticipated their next moves, and survived encounters that would break lesser detectives. Because in a city where fame, wealth, and power protect the worst monsters, someone has to be willing to get blood on their hands.

This isn't just a crime series—it's a masterclass in the psychology of evil.

Six books. Six killers. One detective who refuses to let monsters win.

Follow Detective Harri Harper as she builds her legend one killer at a time, in a series that explores the darkest corners of human nature and asks the question: How far would you go to stop a monster?

I woke up from a gentle shake. My sister’s face hovered a few inches above mine, her eyes glistening wet. A grinding sound came from her jaw as it moved back and forth.
I shivered.

Natalie put her finger against my lips. “SSSH. Nod if you understand,” she whispered.
I nodded.

My room was freezing from the cold wind blowing in through my open window.
“The monsters are coming for us. Be very quiet. We’re escaping,” she whispered.
I nodded again, biting my lip hard to not cry.

Was there a monster in my closet?

Behind my closed bedroom door?

My heart thrashed against my ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage. Why were the monsters after us?

I sat up.

Natalie slid away from me and pulled something closer to the bed. I peeked over and saw my favorite pink suitcase open. I swallowed. My heart fluttered up, trying to find another way to escape my chest.

She’d packed for me a strange assortment of clothes and underwear and socks and shoes along with her t-shirts and underwear. She turned back to me and put one finger up.
“We have room for one toy. Pick your favorite fast,” she whispered again.

A creak from somewhere behind my door startled Natalie. She froze in the middle of the room, her eyes blinking fast. I’d never seen Natalie like this before. I squirmed back into my pillows.
I wanted Natalie to stop scaring me. I wanted to go back to sleep. I wanted my mommy. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
But my mommy couldn’t come. She went to heaven. I only had Natalie.
I opened my mouth to ask about Dad and Danny and Reece. Natalie vigorously shook her head.

“No time for questions. Toy. Now.”

The urgency in her voice forced me out of bed. I looked around my childhood bedroom at my kindergarten art on the wall and my sticker collection books and my favorite headphones and all of my stuffed animals and dollies.

I didn’t have a favorite toy. A small whimper escaped from my mouth.
I picked up a baby doll and a bottle closest to my pink-socked feet.

“Too big. Take Barbie. We have to go,” she said, pushing on the suitcase flap for it to get close enough to zip.

I grabbed a naked barbie with long blond hair. I searched around for her clothes, but my room was too dark. I whimpered again and pressed my lips tighter together.
Natalie barely noticed as she snatched the naked doll from me and shoved it into the edge of the suitcase. She zipped the suitcase closed and picked it up. Natalie grabbed my hand and pulled me to the window.

“Have to leave through the window,” she whispered. “We can’t go back there.”

“I don’t have shoes,” I said.

What I really wanted to say was I don’t want to go. Tears streamed down my face and I couldn’t stop my crying. The My-Little-Pony long pajamas clung to my body and goosebumps spread across my skin. I didn’t want to let go of Natalie’s hand.

Natalie didn’t answer. Instead, she yanked the screen off the window frame. She lifted me up and pushed me through it into my mom’s bougainvillea bush.
She came out right after me, holding a slightly larger suitcase. My mom’s suitcase.
Natalie squeezed my hand. I held my suitcase to me as we walked across the perfectly trimmed lawn of my childhood home.

The night was dark. No moon appeared in the sky and the air smelled of garbage like it did sometimes. We stepped onto the sidewalk and Natalie started to jog.
My wet socks clopped against the pavement as I tried to keep up with her. My teeth chattered badly, and I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Natalie, stop. I can’t run this fast,” I gasped.

Natalie looked behind us and her mouth opened and closed like the fish my dad once caught on the pier. Her chest rose and fell to the beat of my chattering teeth.

I looked where she was looking and saw the silhouette of a man.
“No,” she squeaked.