Thanks to the BBC’s Line of Duty we all know what the acronym OCG means. (Oh, c’mon, keep up at the back. ‘Organised Crime Group’).
But the OCGs in the hit TV drama represent lukewarm, weedy flabbiness compared to the breathtakingly ruthless organisation that haunts and stalks the chapters of Michael Robotham’s latest page-turner. No mere ice-cold criminals, these; but psychopaths who operate comfortably at cryogenically-low temperatures.
The plot is simple enough. Six years ago, little Evie was discovered hiding in the secret room of a house in the aftermath of a brutal murder. She is the only survivor of the slaying, and, presumably, the only witness. The OCG will never stop looking for her. And when they find her? They’ll efficiently finish the job.
No-one knows who Evie really is; where she comes from; why she was in the death house. She’s a living, breathing mystery. But at least she’s alive and breathing. Anyone who tries to discover her true identity winds up dead.
Which makes forensic psychologist Cyrus Haven either very brave or very stupid. Because he’s decided that only the truth about her past will set Evie free. She’s an enigma; a riddle he’s determined to unravel.
Evie tries to warn him against disturbing the past. But Cyrus ignores her in a dangerous blend of altruism and arrogance. The more he digs into Evie’s back story the more he pokes at a hornets’ nest of the rich, corrupt and powerful – and step by step, he unwittingly leads some very dangerous men straight to her.
The truth won’t set Evie free. It will kill her – and Cyrus.