He was called the Werewolf. He was nameless, faceless, a man who gave no reasons and left no clues. But he had a hammer and hate and lust ... and heâd left eight women ravaged and screaming. The ninth victim would never scream again. The rapist had turned killer, and the shadow of his hammer hung over the city. Thatâs why Clover French, so lovely, so delicate to be a policewoman, had traded her uniform for clothes that flaunted her sex ... The cops needed bait for the killer!