Happy 53rd birthday, Doctor. When a mysterious letter bearing these threatening words is delivered to Dr. Frederick Starks, his predictable life is thrown into chaos.

Suddenly, the psychoanalyst is plunged into a horrific game designed by a man who calls himself Rumplestiltskin. The rules: in two weeks Starks must guess Rumplestiltskin's identity and the source of his fury. If he succeeds, he goes free.

If he fails, one by one, Rumplestiltskin will destroy fifty-two of Dr. You ruined my life. Ignoring the threat is not an option.

When one of his patients dies under the wheels of a subway train and a detective investigating the case is struck by a hit-and-run driver, Starks knows his tormentor means business. And then there are the messengers sent to guide Starks on his descent, from the seductive woman in a trench coat who calls herself Virgil to a lawyer named Merlin weaving a spell of havoc and lies. One thing of which you can be absolutely certain: My anger knows no limits.

A mesmerizing thriller that gives a wicked new twist to the doctor-patient relationship, The Analyst's Last Days weaves a blistering race against time with a tale of identities shattered and chosen, disguises taken and discarded. From the Hardcover edition.