WHERE THE BAD MEN SLEEP
Some nights, Ray Matthews loses time.
Twelve hours. A whole day. Sometimes longer.
A former detective turned investigative journalist, Ray made his name writing about the men the system let walk — corrupt judges, bought prosecutors, killers who walked free on technicalities. Then his wife was murdered, the case fell apart, and Ray spent the next decade falling apart with it.
Three years sober. Court-ordered therapy. A grown son he barely deserves.
Now bodies are turning up across Houston. Men Ray wrote about. Killed in ways only someone with his notes could replicate. His own words carved into their skin.
The evidence keeps pointing one direction.
At him.
Ray’s known what he’s capable of in the hours he can’t account for since he was a teenager. He’s spent his entire adult life keeping it locked down. But someone is recreating his wife’s murder, one death at a time, on the dates the system failed her — and the closer Ray gets to the killer, the more he wonders if the man he’s hunting has been wearing his face all along.
By the time Ray understands what’s actually happening, it will already be too late.
He can’t outrun what’s inside.
