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Winner of the Rosenkrantz Prize for Best Thriller of the Year
There is nobody in the world who knows that we are here . . .
As far as her friends and children are concerned, Maria Holinek is in Morocco with her author husband, Martin. In reality, Maria is alone, holed up in a secluded cottage in Winsford on Exmoor, trying to outlive her dog.
Weeks before, Maria and Martin fled Stockholm under a cloud. The couple were bound for Morocco, where Martin planned to write an explosive novel; one that would reveal the truth behind dark events in his past. But the couple never made it to their destination.
As Maria settles into her lonely new life, walking the desolate moors, it starts to become clear that Winsford isn't quite the sanctuary she hoped it would be. But what terrible secret is Maria guarding? And who is trying to find her?
'Utterly intriguing . . . a superb evocation of a woman in the grip of a major emotional and moral crisis' Guardian
'A ripping yarn . . . the drip feed of vital information hurtles you through its 471 pages' The Times
- Autorenportrait
Hakan Nesser
Winner of the Rosenkrantz Prize for Best Thriller of the Year
There is nobody in the world who knows that we are here . . .
As far as her friends and children are concerned, Maria Holinek is in Morocco with her author husband, Martin. In reality, Maria is alone, holed up in a secluded cottage in Winsford on Exmoor, trying to outlive her dog.
Weeks before, Maria and Martin fled Stockholm under a cloud. The couple were bound for Morocco, where Martin planned to write an explosive novel; one that would reveal the truth behind dark events in his past. But the couple never made it to their destination.
As Maria settles into her lonely new life, walking the desolate moors, it starts to become clear that Winsford isn't quite the sanctuary she hoped it would be. But what terrible secret is Maria guarding? And who is trying to find her?
'Utterly intriguing . . . a superb evocation of a woman in the grip of a major emotional and moral crisis' Guardian
'A ripping yarn . . . the drip feed of vital information hurtles you through its 471 pages' The Times
