About The Book

Poppet is Hayder at her most terrifying: A gripping novel set in a high-security mental health ward. Something is not right at Beechway psychiatric unit. First one resident turns violently to self-harm, then another to suicide—both recalcitrant patients with no prior history of self-directed violence. Rumor has it that the place is being terrorized by a creature called The Maude. Clinic higher-ups dismiss this as superstition, but the surviving victim certainly saw something. When staff Nurse AJ LeGrande calls on Detective Jack Caffery to investigate, what he learns about what’s going on inside and outside the hospital will shock him and place individuals beyond the ward walls in danger. And what of Flea Marley, the police diver whose dark secret Caffery has been keeping? Can he save her from herself, or will she take him down with her?

Praise

“Mo Hayder has written some of the grisliest crime fiction in recent memory. . . . Nowhere is Hayder’s portrayal more nuanced and compelling than in Poppet. . . . A compelling mystery that will cause fans and new readers alike to ponder not just who did it, but why.” —Paula L. Woods, Los Angeles Times

“Dipping into Poppet when the house was silent and the rain was spattering against the windows probably wasn’t a good idea: The book oozes sinisterness from the first page. . . . [Its] high-wire tension . . . never wavers.” —Tina Jordan, Entertainment Weekly

“Poppet is a seriously dark piece of work, but that’s what Mo Hayder does best. . . . A truly frightening, and at times grotesque, read.” —Sherryl Connelly, New York Daily News

“Enthralling . . . plays out in tantalizing fashion. . . . Hayder’s sharply drawn characters, major and minor, and her psychological acumen combine for a frightening and convincing read.” —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Excerpt

From the bed Monster Mother stares at the triangle of light coming from under the door. It’s muddied, agitated. Something is waiting there outside her room. Lingering.

Silently she pushes herself out of bed and creeps to the furthest corner of the room. Her eyes don’t leave the door. She knows what’s out there. The Maude.

Monster Mother glances frantically around the room—checking every corner, every crack in the plaster. Any place at all that The Maude can crawl in. She knows more about The Maude than anyone in this place does. But she can’t talk about what she knows—that would be dangerous.

Carefully she pushes her hand up under the thin red negligee she wears and moves her trembling fingers along the skin between her breasts. When she finds the thing she needs she tugs. It hurts, but she continues. There is a wet smacking sound as her stomach muscles spring free from her skin.

Monster Mother takes a deep breath and straightens up—solid and brave—her stripped muscles glinting in the security lights. She faces the door.

The Maude will never find her now.