The oppressive humidity of LaRose, Louisiana, clung to Special Agent Willie Davidson like a shroud, a familiar discomfort she hadn't missed. The air, thick with the scent of stagnant water and blooming jasmine, promised another sweltering day. Her father’s call had pulled her back, and now, standing on the edge of the murky bayou, she felt the weight of her past press down on her. Two young women, Angela Burnette and Brittany Shoal, found dead within sixty days, their bodies meticulously placed, drawing the FBI’s attention.

The silence of the swamp was deceptive, broken only by the buzzing of unseen insects and the distant croak of a bullfrog. Willie's team—Hank, Franny, and Stevie—moved with practiced efficiency, their federal presence a stark contrast to the sleepy town's rhythm. She pulled out a fresh piece of Nicorette, the mint cutting through the heavy air, as her gaze swept over the crime scene photos. Blonde hair, innocent faces, bodies found in shallow water, cleaned and posed like morbid dolls. The killer wanted them found, wanted them seen.

Her father, Sheriff Davidson, stood nearby, his face etched with exhaustion, his brown eyes holding a familiar weariness. He gestured towards the thick brush, where the first victim had been found, and the words he'd spoken on the phone echoed in her mind: "We got another body today." The swamp held its secrets tight, but this time, Willie was here to pry them open, even if it meant confronting the ghosts she’d tried to outrun.