Ghosts aren’t real—or so I tell myself. But when a mechanic dies in a locked workshop and witnesses swear a spectre walked through walls, my worldview unravels. With bodies piling up, police stonewalling, and a killer who knows my past, I must uncover the truth—or become the next corpse.

Ghosts aren’t real. Is that what you tell yourself?

That’s what I tell my clients, my friends, and myself. But when a local mechanic turns up dead inside a locked workshop—no signs of entry, no fingerprints, nothing but a witness claiming a spectre drifted through the wall—my neat little worldview starts to crack.

The cops aren’t talking, bodies are piling up, and someone out there wants me sniffing in the wrong direction. Worse, a certain sharp-eyed detective keeps appearing in my orbit, getting under my skin in ways that are… inconvenient.

I chase monsters for a living, but this thing, whatever it is, knows my name, knows my past, and is always one step ahead.
Human killer? Vengeful ghost? Something in between?

Doesn’t matter.

If I don’t solve this soon, I’ll be the next body they zip into a bag.