The eight-year-old boy had vanished from the car and, as if by slick, sick magic, had been replaced by a note on the steering wheel reading, You don’t love him. At the height of summer a dark shadow falls across Exmoor; more children are stolen, each disappearance marked only by the same brutal accusation. No explanations, no ransom demands, and no hope. But – still reeling from a personal tragedy – does Policeman Jonas Holly stand any chance of catching the kidnapper? Because there’s at least one person on Exmoor who thinks that, when it comes to being the first line of defense, Jonas Holly may be the last man to trust.