This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. While the Church of Scientology is a real institution, and some of the details about it are based on the author’s research, the crimes portrayed in this novel are purely fictitious and not based on any actual events. To the best of the author’s knowledge, there is no “office of church discipline,” as portrayed in the novel. Furthermore, there is no affiliation between the author and the Church of Scientology, and no connection between the actions described in this fictional work and the church or its members.

This book is for Terrence Timothy Heffernan, who left us in 2015. I miss you, my brother.

I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents.

—John Steinbeck

Chapter One

Palm Harbor, Florida

Harry Santos Doyle stared into the dead man’s face. He had already removed the man’s wallet; knew his name was Charlie Moon, knew he was twenty-eight years old, and that he lived in the house where his body was found. He also knew that the large butcher knife protruding from the center of his chest had probably cleaved his heart in two.

Doyle’s partner, Vicky Stanopolis, squatted beside him. She, too, stared at the man. He was pale and flabby with a plump, round face and his blindly staring eyes still held a look of horrified surprise. His mouth was opened wide as though he wanted to scream out a final objection to his death. She glanced at Harry.

“Are you getting anything?” She waited, knowing he would answer when he was ready.

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