When a body is pulled from the peatlands outside Glenbeigh-a windswept village on Ireland's Ring of Kerry-most assume it's just another Iron Age relic, preserved in silence beneath the moss. But this one walked these roads not long ago. Some even remember his name. Then more follow-some ancient, some suspiciously fresh-all exhumed from bogland that seems to stir with each new moon. Graves in the churchyard are found disturbed, coffins split, bodies missing. The dead are returning, but not how anyone expected. Detective Inspector Finn Lynch, reluctantly back in the village she swore never to revisit, finds herself caught between folklore and forensics and surrounded by wary townsfolk who know better than to disturb the old ground. They speak of Viking sacrifices. Of debts unpaid. Of the bog choosing when-and whom-to give back. Science can explain some of it. The preservation. The trauma. The layers of time compressed in peat. But not the timing. Not the placement. Not why the faces feel familiar. Because in Glenbeigh, memory clings like mist, and the land has a long, dark memory of its own. GHOSTS OF GLENBEIGH is a haunting, atmospheric thriller where superstition bleeds into science, and the past is anything but dead.
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