The true story of a teenage killer and the silence of a small New England town.For twenty years Daniel Paquette's murder in New Hampshire went unsolved. It remained a secret between two high school friends until Eric Windhurst's arrest in 2005. What was revealed was a crime born of adolescent passion between Eric and Daniel's stepdaughter, Melanie- redefining the meaning of loyalty, justice, and revenge.
Attorney Seth Bader and his wife, Vicki, moved to New Hampshire in 1992. Three tumultuous years later, their marriage ended and left Vicki a broken woman, driven to the edge as Seth seduced their teenage son Joey into a violent plot to kill her in cold blood. What followed was one of the most bizarre and harrowing crime stories in New Hampshire history.
Their friendship would kill her…Weaver and fiber artist Edith "Pen" Meyer knew her friend Sandy Merritt's relationship with a married man was wrong. She had even urged Sandy to take out a restraining order against Kenneth Carpenter. Which was why her call to Sandy on February 23, 2005, seemed to come from out of the blue. During it, she told Sandy to drop the restraining order and get back together with Ken.Pen was never seen again.One man stood to gain from Pen's disappearance: Ken Carpenter. But evidence was bleak: no blood, no DNA, no body. Until detectives found notes hidden beneath a leather chair that turned out to be a playbook for murder…
Was murder part of the game? Seventeen-year-old Kat McDonough grew up with theater in her blood-and a penchant for make-believe. More than a decade older, Seth Mazzaglia was well known in the community theater circle of Portsmouth, New Hampshire. He, too, had a rich inner life-and he soon had Kat convinced that they were soul mates. To intensify their bond, Seth lured Kat into a world of violent sex and role-playing, where she was his slave. But even that wasn't enough to satisfy his ravenous appetites. Enter Lizzi Marriott, the new girl in town. And when she accepts an invitation to Kat and Seth's apartment, she will never be seen again . . .
