Yrsa Sigurdardottir

The only witness to a shocking murder is the victim's 10-year-old daughter, Margret. The police turn to the Children's House for their expertise in childhood trauma. The manager, Freyja, doesn't much like the police - especially the detective in charge, Huldar. But she does want to help them protect Margret. And when more people die - their murders heralded by strange messages, texts, and strings of numbers - they will have to work together to crack the riddle before they become targets themselves.

A terrifying ghost story from the Queen of Icelandic crime, Yrsa Sigurdardottir, author of the Thora Gudmundsdottir novels. The crunching noise had resumed, now accompanied by a disgusting, indefinable smell. It could best be described as a blend of kelp and rotten meat. The voice spoke again, now slightly louder and clearer: Don't go. Don't go yet. I'm not finished.

A standalone thriller from the prizewinning queen of Nordic noir and author of the Thora Gudmundsdottir series. A chilling thriller from the author of The Silence of the Sea, winner of the 2015 Petrona Award for best Scandinavian Crime Novel. A journalist on the track of an old case attempts suicide. An ordinary couple return from a house swap in the states to find their home in disarray and their guests seemingly missing.

Martin Chorley, aka the Faceless Man, wanted for multiple counts of murder, fraud and crimes against humanity, has been unmasked and is on the run. Peter Grant, Detective Constable and apprentice wizard, now plays a key role in an unprecedented joint operation to bring Chorley to justice. But even as the unwieldly might of the Metropolitan Police bears down on its foe, Peter uncovers clues that Chorley, far from being finished, is executing the final stages of a long-term plan.

The light spilling in from the corridor would have to do. Though weak, it was sufficient to show Aldís a boy sitting in the gloom at the farthest table. He had his back to her, so she couldn't see who it was but could tell that he was one of the youngest. A chill ran down her spine when he spoke again without turning, as if he had eyes in the back of his head. 'Go away. Leave me alone.' 'Come on. You shouldn't be here.' Aldís spoke gently, fairly sure now that the boy must be delirious. Confused rather than dangerous.