You can’t find it on any map, GPS or directions site. A small village tucked between a mountain and a valley, Hamlet is the sort of place where everyone knows everyone — and their business, too. There’s no television. No phones. Only one way in and, for the locals, barely any way out. The sheriff is the law, the only doctor moonlights as the coroner, and outsiders rarely come to town.
Murders are even rarer.
A treacherous storm, a flat tire and a touch of serendipity causes Tessa Sullivan and her husband Jack to stumble upon the narrow strait that leads into Hamlet. It was supposed to be a one night stop until the rain let up and Jack could figure out how to fix the tire — until Tess lands herself in the local jail cell overnight and Jack is found dead in their hotel room the next morning. There’s no doubt it was murder, but with his gentle wife having an airtight alibi, the sheriff has to wonder: who had any cause to kill the outsider?
And was he only the first victim?
Dr. De Angelis doesn’t think so. Neither does Deputy Walsh. With Tess looking more and more like the killer’s next target, both men take the time to comfort and protect the young widow. But only one of them is sincere. The other just wants her to himself now that her husband is out of the way.