Four fantastic novels:
A bare room. A table, two chairs. A fake mirror. The suspect and the policeman. A diary. The last interrogation, the decisive one. The suspect is only a boy, but the crime he is accused of is terrible. Three victims: his parents and his best friend. It seem obvious that was him, even though there is not enough evidence to sue him. Yet ... There is a new fact: the diary. A girl wrote it and tells in detail how the murders took place. It also indicates the murderer, and it’s not the boy. Unfortunately it’s not reliable, because the girl, the one who wrote the diary, doesn’t exist, and consequently can’t have seen the facts that are written in there. As for the killer... even worse. He can’t have done those crimes in any way. There is only one possibility, the only one. The boy has to read it, provide his version, validate it or not. Beyond logic and reason. Because the policeman is determined: that night, one way or another, the case will be closed. It's all there, in those few pages, in that volume that begins with a phrase so harmless and terrible: Dear Libby.
It came to Vito as an unexpected blessing. Looking for a new house after the dissolution of his marriage, he just found the perfect flat. It was big, furnished, and at such a ridiculous price. The only blemish was the old landlady. She was nice but nosey. When a thief murders the old lady, life seems to go on. Always the same, monotonous life. The same deeds, the same actions. The same obsessions he shared with his neighbours. Until it’s too late. Until they realize they are part of that house and they can’t escape anymore. Living gears of an enormous machine whose purpose they can’t fathom. Only a delivery guy, who came to deliver Vito’s dinner, can see what eludes them. Perhaps he could do more, and he could save them if it isn’t too late.
Every night is there in that seemingly empty and abandoned flat. She dances, she can't do anything else. She dances for hours, with an old and frayed costume. A frantic and mechanical dance lit only by a candlestick. She is a girl, little more than a child. They see her abducted from the palace in front of her, wondering who she can be. A father and son just moved to that city. A new life awaits them, a new school, and a son as a student and his father as a teacher. They are agitated and fascinated at the same time; they can't do without investigating. Because of that girl, there's no trace; she doesn't even attend any school. It seems she has a father, although no one has seen him for a long time. But even the name they gave is false. Curiosity made them meet her. Know her and get into that house. It will be the worst mistake of their lives. A choice from which there's no return, which could lead them to a worse end of death.
Life is simple, for Ramon. Being a drug dealer isn’t a problem – it’s easy to find justifications, he doesn’t think of himself as a bad person. But one day, in an abandoned house, he kills a client for no reason. He’d like to forget about it but it isn’t easy, also because he realises he has no control over his actions anymore. Someone is using him to feed themselves. Someone who forces him to kill, to sacrifice what he cares about the most. There, in that house, destroyed by a fire. Someone, someone who lives there, who is never full. Who enforces a constant tribute of human lives. The only hope is to be able to fight that fatal and invisible presence. But the price for freedom might be prohibitive.