An act of murder caught in an explosion of lightning. A scream swallowed up by thunder. She pulls herself along the balcony railing hand-over-hand, peering down into the inky blackness. Too late, whispers a voice in her brain. Bang, bang you're next, taunts a voice before her. And she runs then, ferried on feet of fear, hounded from behind. Runs until she is falling. Runs until all is lost.Something twisted is stalking the Cunningham family. It lurks at the periphery of Beth’s vision. Her husband Charlie can’t help, if she could even remember him; he’s doing time for a murder he didn’t commit. The small child Beth was found with, whom she doesn’t know either, was taken to foster care. There isn’t much time now. If Beth doesn’t recall the hideous events that stole her memory soon, the killer will strike again, and someone else will die.
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