Novels No. 126

 

Simon Mason. The Broken Afternoon. 2023. UK: riverrun/Quercus, 2025.

[in-house grab] The joke’s on me. My luck at finding another Detective Wilkins novel turned out, chronologically and story-wise, to be the one before the last one I read (Lost and Never Found, LL No. 121). Ryan Wilkinson was discharged from the police after the first book in the series (A Voice in the Night, LL No. 118) and in this one he’s working as a security guard. However, new Superintendent Wallace decides to reinstate him if he meets the procedure’s requirements. Ryan is concerned that his old school pal Mick Dick was found dead – hit and run – shortly after visiting Ryan in a panicky state. His former partner DI Ray Wilkins (no relation) is leading the case of missing four-year-old Poppy Clarke—an apparent kidnapping. It’s a dark, time-consuming case for Ray whose pregnant wife Diane resents his lack of attention.

Ryan’s questions about Mick, a possible murder victim, get bold enough to risk his re-entry into the police. When little Poppy’s body turns up, Ray’s case expands to ugly proportions. He needs solid evidence to expose a clandestine network of perverts, some hiding in the guise of philanthropy. The plot rises to more than one breathless police action. Both detectives learn something about the workings of friendship along the way. Mason combines two tricky investigations with his usual penetrating insight into human nature. His two likeable, complex characters are irresistible. It’s hard to imagine a better crime novel, nor indeed, a more unique series.

Bits

▪ Looking at Ryan with his bloodshot eyes, he finally spoke. “Two months. Trying to get work. Every day, man, knocking on doors.” (8)

▪ Her hair was scraped back, giving her face a no-nonsense, useful look. She could make someone flinch just by pointing her nose at them. (26)

▪ “Your job is to prove to me that you’re no longer the sort of guy goes rogue. So prove it.” (95)

▪ “She’s four!” Ray shouted. “She’s not someone else’s wife, she’s a little child! Don’t give me this bullshit about forbidden desire!” (115)

▪ “Over his hooded top he was wearing one of those hi-viz vests, and was carrying a helmet.” (122)

▪ “I think she knew whoever took her. Someone she trusted. Someone she was friendly with.” (144)

▪ He’d made a mess of so much, made so many mistakes, was more of a dipstick than even the Super imagined, but he hadn’t made a mess of being a father. (184)

Harlan Coben. Run Away. 2019. USA: Grand Central Publishing, Media Tie-in Edition, 2025.

[in-house grab] Simon and Ingrid Greene have three grown children: Paige, Sam, and Anya. Simon, a financial planner, has been searching for Paige who ran away some time ago. All we know is that after meeting drug-dealer boyfriend Aaron Corval, she became a junkie, squandering all her artistic talent, hiding from her family. Simon’s attempt to rescue her results in a public brawl with Corval who is soon found murdered. Ingrid joins Simon in the hunt for Paige; in a confrontation with another drug dealer, a jumpy henchman shoots Ingrid. As Ingrid lies in a coma, Simon continues the search for Paige, encountering more and more bizarre incidents.

Aaron’s father is lying to Simon about him; his stepmother runs a biker bar; Elena Ramirez is a P.I. searching for missing Henry Thorpe who is somehow linked to Paige; a killer called Ash is targeting various young men, one of whom is somehow linked to Henry. Dee Dee, Ash’s partner in crime, lives in a rigid, isolated cult led by con man Casper Vartage aka “The Truth”—a disturbing connection that feels overplayed. All immensely confusing to Simon and Elena and to us readers. But a DNA issue arises and some of the fog clears for me. Simon constantly berates himself, blames himself, for every wrong turn in the family. Very intricate plotting, often requiring the reader to make leaps in character backgrounds, but after all – it’s Harlan Coben! Of course they made a TV series from it.

Noise

▪ “He was slowly poisoning your daughter, killing her right in front of your eyes.” (103)

▪ “You were willing to die for someone you love,” Fagbenle said, moving in a little closer. “How much of a stretch is it to believe you’d kill?” (103)

▪ “I didn’t shoot no doctor. You ain’t pinning that on me.” He pointed at Simon. “I just shot his old lady.” (111)

▪ “Paige slept on Carlos’s blow-up mattress on the floor. We all fell asleep. When we woke up, she was gone. So was our stuff.” (133)

▪ “Evil exists because an airheaded bimbo, who started life as a man’s rib, got tricked into eating a piece of bad fruit by a talking reptile.” (198)

▪ “Go,” the old man said to Ash. “The Truth will always prevail.” (262)

▪ “Is it different for you?” Dee Dee asked him. “Killing a woman instead of a man.” (305)

Novels No. 125

 

Peter May. Cast Iron. New York: Quercus, 2017.

[in-house grab] Scottish forensics expert Enzo Macleod is working on another unsolved mystery featured in Roger Raffin’s book of cold cases. He’s not fond of Raffin who lives with Enzo’s daughter Kirsty. The amount of names and relationships thrown at the reader in the first few pages is almost overwhelming, and it continues. Bitter ex-wife Charlotte tries to prevent Enzo’s contact with their son. Enzo’s case is about Lucie Martin, missing since 1989, her strangled remains found years later. Serial killer Régis Blanc is the suspect, a pimp currently imprisoned for the deaths of three prostitutes, and likely known to Lucie through her work with rehab for released prisoners—he’d had previous arrests. Police found a love letter Blanc wrote to her, but no evidence that he killed her.

Enzo’s other daughter Sophie and her fiancé Bertrand have been beaten and kidnapped by strangers. Racing from one corner of France to another, Enzo is frantic to find Sophie, collecting his former lover, ex-cop Dominique, along the way. Lucie’s ex-boyfriend, Blanc’s wife, the parents of six other missing girls, police who worked the old cases, are all interviewed or investigated. Each element here, each new character, adds a challenging twist. Oddly, Blanc seems to be the mystery key for unlocking why Enzo or his family is a target. Everyone who knows Blanc said the killings were uncharacteristic, that he consistently treated his women well.

Try to keep your balance: author Peter May pulls off the surprises right to the end. To mix some metaphors, Cast Iron will keep you on your toes and on the edge of your seat.

Seen & Heard

▪ “A drinking, womanising old hippy who left his wife and child in Scotland and never had a serious relationship in his life.” (20)

▪ She had made it clear then that she did not want Enzo to have any part in her child’s life, and threatened abortion if he made legal demands. (22-3)

▪ Here was a hardened criminal, a man who ran prostitutes and had just served a prison term for violent assault, prostrating himself in front of a girl not much more than half his age. (58)

▪ “So naturally, he was killing his mother each time he murdered one of those girls.” (64)

▪ She turned worried eyes on Enzo. “Did he really say he’d seen Lucie with that man?” (84)

▪ Why wouldn’t Charlotte have told him that she had visited Blanc in Lannemezan prison? (99)

▪ “If it’s not Lucie, it’s Marie. One or other of them is going to lead me to Sophie’s kidnappers.” (196)

Chris Pavone. The Doorman. Large Print. USA: Thorndike Press/Gale, 2025.

Bohemia is a fictional co-op building on New York’s Upper West Side, clearly fashioned after the enduring real-life Dakota. Chief doorman is Chicky Diaz who is warily observing the unruly crowds passing on his street; the police shooting of a black man has attracted a huge protest nearby that could get ugly. That’s not the only thing on Chicky’s mind, as we later learn about his crippling debts. Emily and Whit reside in the largest, most expensive unit in the building. He is a wealthy, narcissistic businessman with dubious connections to arms dealers; wife Emily barely tolerates him, fulfilling her role in their luxury lifestyle—although her moral compass is ambiguous. Julian lives on a lower floor, feeling somewhat lost about dwindling finances from his art gallery, a risky business exchange he made with Whit, and the prospect of heart surgery. A crook called Justin Pugh has had some illicit dealings with those two, and reputations may be ruined—the worst nightmare of high society and the corporate world.

Pavone has penned a knife-sharp portrait of a wealthy super-class, lambasting their entitlement, their disdain and insensitivity, their racism and exclusivity. It’s an epic contrast with the lives of the staff that run Bohemia, especially Chicky, their favourite doorman. Yet all are aware of their fragile mortality. In volunteer work Emily tries to find inner peace, but a different street protest is forming against Whit’s corporate interests. Whether it’s the debt collector hunting Chicky, the troubles with Pugh, or potential vandalism from outraged street protestors, guns are close to all hands and something’s going to explode. A few pull-quotes will scarcely capture Pavone’s delicious social satire but I can’t resist offering a representative sentence (Emily is secretly volunteering at a food bank):

“No one cares what motivated Emily to be here instead of with the other school moms, drinking skinny lattes and debating international vacations and household decorations and college applications, giving each other advice about architects in the Hamptons and chiropractors in Manhattan, about juice cleanses and Pilates instructors, resorts on the Mayan Riviera and safaris in Kenya, interspersed with lamentations about the disappointing service, the aggressive panhandlers, the difficulty of getting an appointment with the dermatologist everyone goes to, who accepts no health insurance and has a personal net worth of two hundred million dollars. (201-2)

The author deftly immerses us in the extremes of the Big Apple at a lively pace, wonderfully evocative at every stage. The intensity of fine-timing in the climax is amazing; don’t miss this novel and hang on tight.

Chicky

▪ It’s not just talking on the phone that’s prohibited. You’re also not allowed to listen to music or play games or watch videos. Anything with a screen or headphones. (29)

▪ He was a lifer. This was a job you could do until you retired. Or died. That was Chicky’s plan. (168)

▪ “Your bill is ninety days past. We have no choice but to turn this over to a collections agency. I’m very sorry.” (234)

Emily

▪ There was absolutely no way that she and her children could live on nine hundred thousand dollars per year. (52)

▪ Emily was the type of New York society woman who was universally known within her tribe, and to the sorts of outsiders who paged through the party pictures in Town & Country. (187)

▪ “You know that having children is your actual job?” he’d eventually said. This was a particularly low moment in her life, and her husband chose to make it lower. (301)

Julian

▪ “I suggest we have the surgery sooner rather than later.” (68)

▪ His finances were teetering. His kids were leaving. His marriage was withering. His career was, quite possibly, ending, and so was he. (87-8)

▪ “But let’s remember that I didn’t make this deal for personal gain. I did this to keep our business afloat.” (179)

Novels No. 124

 

Susie Steiner. Persons Unknown. Canada: HarperCollins Publishers Ltd., 2017.

[in-house grab] This novel follows Steiner’s Missing, Presumed that introduced DS Manon Bradshaw, so there are references to prior happenings but not enough to lose you. Manon lives with adopted son Fly Dent and her sister Ellie, mother of little Solly. Assigned to cold cases at Major Crime Unit, Manon misses working on active investigations and resents DS Davy Walker’s promotion. DCI Harriet puts Davy in charge of a local stabbing death; the victim, Jon-Oliver Ross, was a wealthy banker, estranged father of Manon’s nephew Solly. To Manon’s horror and the consternation of her colleagues, twelve-year-old Fly is arrested for the murder. The boss, DCS Stanton, is taking an unusual, intervening interest in the case, preventing a close interview with Ellie.

Meanwhile shopkeeper Birdie has befriended “Angel,” a scared drunk on the run. In Birdie’s safe environment, Angel learns to trust her to some extent—enough for a mutual plan to run off to Spain. Her name is Saskia, she confides, and she seems to have endless access to money. Seems she too had been involved with Jon-Oliver Ross, as one of the special Titans Club escort girls. Surprise plot twists await in convoluted relationships as Manon struggles, barred from the case and desperately wanting to help her beloved Fly, needing to sort conflicting motives. Her advanced pregnancy is no hindrance to action when she finds herself in danger. Topnotch plotting and multiple narrators smoothly move the story threads along, quiet humour lurking.

Here is an author whose engaging characters strike deep into heartfelt realities while providing tense entertainment. Sadly, the very talented Susie Steiner died in 2022. One more novel follows this in the Manon series.

Peeks

▪ “Who the fuck is stabbed at half four in the afternoon?” Harriet’s swearing always peaks at a crime scene. (16)

▪ He can feel himself getting into a state, a feeling of panic which renders him inactive when what he needs to do is hurry up. (36)

▪ If you’re a Titans girl you have to read The Economist, know about world events, look like a girlfriend on his arm. These guys, these sad old rich men want to look like they’re going out with a model. (106)

▪ Why isn’t he telling them to be all over Ellie Bradshaw’s alibi? (114)

▪ I told him Dunlop & Finch had plenty of money and they’d have to pay me to keep quiet about what had happened to Jade at the Carlton Mayfair. (153)

▪ Harriet has shown her evidence of how little she knows about her son. (160)

▪ “I’m Neil, your care worker. We don’t have guards here, right? This isn’t a prison.” (166)

▪ “But the thing is, Fly doesn’t dispute being there – it’s his route home from school.” (178)

Arnaldur Indridason. Black Skies. UK: Minotaur, 2009.

[in-house grab] Policeman Sigurdur Oli learns that his friend Patrekur’s brother-in-law Hermann had been active in swinging (wife-swapping) parties and now an enterprising couple who also participated, Lina and Ebbi, are blackmailing him with photos. As a favour, perhaps Sigurdur might warn them off? But when the cop finds her, Lina had just been fatally beaten; he gets attacked himself. Solving that mystery is the main thread, with Sigurdur doggedly following the slightest of clues. In a quite different tone, a shabby, revenge-seeking Andres is secretly holding an old man hostage in preparation for a gruesome death. This latter turned me right off: Andres’ back story is both pathetic and horridly dark, taking up way too much space in the book.

My TPL branch, where book orders await me, is once again inaccessible, under repair. Tempted to abandon this novel, but with no alternative, I decided to speed read past anything repellent. Unlike many protagonists, Sigurdur is no hardboiled detective and he’s not married to the job. His ex-girlfriend Bergthora thinks he never treated her as an equal partner, and in general lacks empathy for others. The man’s self-awareness does grow impressively during the story, clearly one of the author’s strengths. Devolving as it does into a banking/financial scam of international proportions is another topic I can’t appreciate

Naturally it’s heavy with Icelandic names (apologies for losing the diacritical marks), not so easy to remember which character – of so many – each applies to. Slow-moving, all in all.

Bits

▪ “So you’re not talking about the swing – that forties dance?” Sigurdur Oli asked. (12)

▪ “Your position is not looking good, Siggi. You’re compromising the inquiry by turning it into a private vendetta.” (125)

▪ He stared at the strip of film, unsure how he was supposed to react to this meagre offering in a dirty carrier bag. (126-7)

▪ “I thought you could just make this disappear,” said Patrekur. “I was going to tell you the truth when it was all over.” (182

▪ “The verdict was accidental death; that he had simply failed to take sufficient care and fell over the cliff.” (226)

▪ “You lot must have more than enough on your plate with two murders. It’s a bit excessive, isn’t it?” (258)

Novels No. 123

 

Marisa Kashino. Best Offer Wins. Large Print. USA: Thorndike Press/Gale, 2025.

There’s no stopping Margo when she sets her mind on something. Here’s a yuppie couple’s climb to the upper middle class ideal of perfect home, perfect family, perfect neighbourhood. Perfect home being key for Margo—sought in the wild world of real estate prices—before they have children. As it is, she has trouble conceiving. But she and husband Ian have been through the home bidding wars around Washington DC eleven times with no luck. Now their agent Ginny has chanced upon a great prospect before it’s even listed, and they strategize how to approach the situation as soon as possible. Due diligence is Margo’s forte: online she identifies the owners, Curtis Bradshaw and Jack Lombardi, who have a little adopted daughter.

Margo is obsessed with that property and she’s not above any devious ploy to get it. How to make an irresistible offer the men can’t refuse? Ian’s not comfortable with her tactics; arguing over real estate is nothing new to them. She pretends to meet Jack by chance; interest in adoption is her gambit. Great chumminess develops over a day or two, leading into a dinner invite to her and Ian. All goes extremely well and Penny, the daughter, loves Margo. But the two men balk at her proposal to sell prematurely, and by a slip of Ian’s tongue, they figure out her deception, angrily kicking them out of the house. Now it’s battle stations. From there, Margo stops at nothing; Curtis and Jack won’t know what hit them.

Let’s just say Best Offer Wins is a very interesting exercise in manipulation and madness, not to mention the overbearing tension produced by the real estate deadline. Yet Margo’s hunger and underlying rage are well addressed. As it builds into a stupefying climax—reader: just go with the flow.

Margo

▪ “Maybe we can buy your house!” I say it like it’s a joke. We both laugh. (60)

▪ He’s never called me a bitch before. And we have had some other epic blowouts. (73)

▪ Jordana takes a step back. “I don’t know what’s been going on with you this week, but I think you need to take some time off.” (141)

▪ “This is not normal behaviour,” he whispers. “You must know that.” (155)

▪ “I never should’ve agreed to go to that dinner with you. I knew we were crossing a line, and I still let it happen.” (157)

▪ I don’t have cell service here. I don’t really know where “here” is. (247)

▪ I’m going to have nothing but fun nailing Curt’s ass to the wall with this, watching him squirm like the smug, silver-spoon-fed, born-on-third-base worm that he is. (272)

▪ I want to tell her she’s not alone. That sometimes, it’s like my own rage is threatening to burn right through my skin and incinerate everything. (276-7)

Eliza Reid. Death on the Island. Canada: Simon & Schuster, 2025.

Canadian ambassador to Iceland, Graeme Shearer, is on a visit to a Western Island, planning to convince Blahafid Seafood to open a branch plant in Halifax. The company is the island’s biggest employer, owned and run by Thor Magnusson, a man generally disliked for his condescending manner. But he is also sponsoring an art exhibit for Hanna, who who once lived here during her scientific research days. Graeme’s wife Jane is annoyed with him for losing focus on his job, and for flirting with Hanna; Jane fears public opinion if his past affair becomes known. Deputy ambassador Kavita is plain angry that her boss is distracted while she does all his work. Town mayor Krisjan is grieving the recent unexpected death of his husband Ari. Adding to the mix are Thor’s wife Linda; Ben, Jane’s famous novelist friend; Piotr the passionate chef; and Stella who heads the local museum.

Gathered for dinner after a busy day of touring, a few guests bring private agendas. The group socializes with no indication where this story is going – until Kavita dies in front of them. Taken through the hours preceding her death, we learn that more than one person had reason to want her silenced. Few know the details of her private program for helping refugees immigrate to Canada. Opaque hints of who knew whom before this visit seem aimless. Connecting Kavita’s death with the earlier one of Ari – an investigative journalist – sets Jane and Ben looking for a murderer. Nearly everyone makes fun of the young policeman Jonas, the only cop available thanks to bad weather and ferry cancellation. The plot has decent twists and turns but petty personal concerns and relationships seem more important than solving a murder.

Maybe I’m just old and crotchety, expecting some sparkle in the dialogue, or a degree of appeal in the characters. It’s hard to work up a care about any of them.

Words

▪ “I’ll figure out a way to put Thor in his place tonight.” (54)

▪ “The mayor positively seethes with resentment when he sees Thor.” (70)

▪ “Poor Krisjan is convinced Ari was murdered. He’s the only one, though.” (71)

▪ “Jane, I lost my temper. I yelled at him, in front of everyone at the bar.” (94)

▪ “He told me if I went public, such a move would be the end of me. Jane, I’m worried what Graeme might do next.” (95)

▪ “She was threatening to share some information about me that I would prefer is never made public.” (143)

▪ “Do you think someone at our dinner last night wants to frame Graeme for Kavita’s murder?” (152)

▪ “We’ve got to get to know all the skeletons in this town’s closet. Ari’s research could be a place to start on that.” (154)

Novels No. 122

 

Bridget Canning. Taking Down Names. Canada: Breakwater Books Limited, 2026.

Jacky Careen has not been the same since her sister Mia died a year ago, taking her own life. A reporter for a local newspaper, Avalon Herald News, Jacky’s lost her edge and her enthusiasm, only covering mundane events such as a public meeting about updating the university’s cyberviolence policy, a meeting called by activist Lovetta Brushett. Jacky’s grief over her sister has morphed into an unhealthy rage at Mia’s ex-boyfriend Michael who posted videos of them having sex, after she dumped him. She keeps track of internet trolls who reposted them, fantasizing killing them all, but hopes she’ll collect enough cyberbullying evidence to make criminal charges. It takes a reunion with her friend Teresa to spark some violence of their own.

Energetic Lovetta is politically ambitious, building her public profile in one community activity after another. The cyberviolence policy meeting bristles with opinions about the engineering students who posted the address of a disliked instructor, encouraging others to destroy her property. While the actual vandals were criminally charged, what should be acceptable punishment for the instigators who sat back and watched? And so there’s a common theme dealing with cruelty and hate being strewed on the internet. Jacky also tries to connect social media comments with recent coincidental deaths; Lovetta hopes her twin brothers will not de-rail her career path. Many more characters contribute threads to the story.

Based around the entire Avalon peninsula with a mix of real and fictitious place names, this book is non-stop and dense! Some readers may not get the Newfoundland (or even some Canadian) references but there is enough of the Newfie vernacular to delight everyone. I have to say I found the psychopath ‘reveal’ hard to swallow, yet the explosive climax is a winner. Author Bridget Canning is quite the considerable force!

Word

limerence: involuntary, intense romantic obsession with someone (54)

Voices

▪ In Jacky’s file, there are four local fuckers she’s identified and located. So far, it’s been quite easy to find out what they’re at. (23)

▪ Lovetta is passionate, committed, and capable. Jacky wishes she didn’t find her absolutely exhausting. (27)

▪ “Neighbourhood Watch proposes the university’s code of conduct be revised to include a zero-tolerance stance on bullying and endangerment. To set this precedent, all six students should be expelled and charged.” (30)

▪ There are too many people you can’t have nothing nice with. (124)

▪ Jacky goes out and sits on the step. A car passes, the driver and front passenger gawk—if you’re not smoking, people don’t understand why you’re just sitting outside. (141)

▪ “Let’s imagine it’s real,” Teresa says. “A serial killer targets trolls—why? They want to be, I dunno, Internet Batman?” (148)

▪ “There’s a ten-thousand-dollar reward for anyone with information leading to the truth about our sister’s death.” (209)

Evelyn Clarke. The Ending Writes Itself. USA: HarperCollins Publishers, 2026.

Invite six (seven) authors to compete in writing the climactic ending of a new thriller novel? You know there will be dirty tricks in order to win the coveted reward. It’s the unfinished final novel of Arthur Fletch, powerhouse creator of several hugely popular series. Fletch’s untimely death is being concealed until the manuscript is completed. Cate is a 22-year-old unpublished author, wondering why she’s even been invited; Millie is a confident bubbly writer for young adults; Priscilla is known for the romance genre; Malcolm and wife Sienna are a thriller-writer team called Penn Stonely—he bombastic, she fed up with him; Jaxon is a fantasy writer and a macho pest; Kenzo the horror writer seems the steadiest. All of them are “midlist” in terms of book sales. And all are intimidated to different degrees by the grandiosity of Fletch’s isolated mansion and reputation.

They have the weekend to submit their entries, each with his/her own typewriter and coloured paper for blind judging. But first, they share making dinner together (although we see no information issued regarding meals), displaying personality quirks and biases. Within the first thirty-six or forty-eight hours, discoveries and surprising revelations trump any writing activity; we’ve got identity secrets, hidden motives, at least one body, and we might even have a ghost. The publishing industry itself gets a thorough examination, not to its credit—“eat you alive if you let it” is the common declaration.

The actual authors are a team: Cat Clarke and V.E. Schwab, who gifted us with this ingenious thriller, turning the crime format inside out. I should have known were Fletch’s last words for his sleuth character, and perhaps it applies to a few of the competing individuals. The spirit of Agatha hovers.

Clues

▪ Seventy-two hours, in this house, on this island, with no way to access the outside world. No way to check email, or socials, google a synonym or doomscroll between sessions. (46)

▪ And in order to win, not only do they have to devise an ending equal parts epic and unexpected, they’ll have to do it all while mimicking Fletch’s voice. (50)

▪ “We’re done,” she says, glaring at the disheveled man who used to be her husband. “Penn Stonely is officially dead.” (122)

▪ She pulls the sheet of paper free of the typewriter, unsure what to do with it. All this proves is that she’s not the only one who broke into Fletch’s room. (127)

▪ Priscilla pinches the bridge of her nose as Jaxon steps toward Kenzo, knuckles white on the pool cue, and Malcolm, drunk as he is, has the decency, or at least the sense, to step in front of Jaxon and plant a hand on his chest. (146)

▪ He guns the engine, spins the wheel, and flings himself and the yacht onto the dark water, putting the island and its angry ghosts firmly in his wake. (191)

▪ “I mean,” says Jaxon, “someone still has to win, right? And last time I checked, six of us are still he—” (210)

Novels No. 121

 

Lisa Jewell. It Could Have Been Her. USA: Atria/Simon & Schuster, LLC, 2026.

Jane Trevally is what we used to call a character. Twice divorced, no kids, living in an inherited crumbling house, her main passion is for her four dogs. But it’s a small, lost, white dog called Hugo that prompts her into amateur detective mode. Finding Hugo’s owner leads to a house Jane remembers from a scary encounter she experienced years ago; right now the house presents a grumpy man and a missing young woman, both connected to the dog, pushing Jane’s curiosity. With step-son Dexter volunteering as her assistant, Jane wants to learn more about this Stuart Tucker and possibly find Rose White who vanished.

Soon Stuart and Jessamine, then Allen and Annie enter the picture. Author Jewell takes us jumping from one generation to another, back and forth in different years—rather dizzying. Yet that house – Thornwood it’s called – is a common denominator. Dipping deeply into the lives of a very strange family uncovers an unstated darkness that Jane is determined to expose, for the sake of rescuing something or someone worthwhile. It’s difficult to comprehend Tucker’s attachment to, and abuse by, a seriously deranged woman; nor the woman herself. Jane is not exempt from her own childhood trauma, so perhaps her tolerance and insight are higher than average for such damaged people.

The more Jane discovers, the more repugnant is that sick household. Even for Jewell, it’s over the top; scarcely containing a redeeming feature unless we cheer for the young woman who tried to escape it all. Unsatisfying.

Roles

▪ She was a restless wife to both her husbands, tricky to deal with, prone to moods and existential nonsense. But she has also brought joy to people, she knows she has. (67)

▪ Nearly forty, living in a squat, with a low-level drinking problem, a paunch, and a swiftly encroaching thin patch on the back of my head (which my nephews took great delight in pointing out to me numerous times over the Christmas break). (88)

▪ And I can’t say I’m surprised, because there is something in this house, something living and breathing behind locked doors and in the creases between this world and another. (133)

▪ Maybe this is when the brother ran away. There he is with his scary clown mask and his creepy white gloves, ready and raring to go by the look of him. (140)

▪ “Just let me do it. I want to do it. I want to fucking die. And don’t pretend you care, because I know you don’t. You couldn’t give a shit about me. Everyone would be better off without me, and you know it.” (174)

▪ “You know, Annie,” I begin, “this family, this house, you, your daughter, it’s all totally fucked. You’re living in a dumpster fire. You do know that, right?” (223)

▪ “Go out now. Seriously. Don’t go back to her. Put your phone on silent. Leave the house. Don’t let her get into your head today.” (239)

Simon Mason. Lost and Never Found. UK: riverrun/Quercus Editions Limited, 2024.

It’s the Wilkins detectives in Oxford again, in an earlier case (see also Novels No. 118). Ray, articulate and logical; Ryan, intuitive and awkward. Celebrity socialite Zara Fanshawe is missing after she crashes her Rolls Royce in a back street. DS Wallace orders Ryan to lead the case that quickly flounders after the discovery of Zara’s murdered body. Media feeding frenzy. Public opinion is that she’d been on yet another drugs-fuelled adventure, confirmed by the wild state of her London apartment. Zara’s ex-husband, her mother, her drug dealer—none know what she’s been doing lately or why she was driving in a dubious part of town. With £5000 in cash, she seemed to be searching for someone. Anyone who’d glimpsed her said she had a robotic, zombie look.

Zara’s past includes unknown incidents that apparently caused her some mental health issues and a suicide attempt. Beyond its main thrust as a mystery, the story plumbs sensitive depths in Ryan’s tender relationship with son Little Ryan. Additionally, author Mason has an awesome grip on “sleeping rough” people, their woes and fears, the constant police harassment—a measure instigated by militant Deputy Chief Constable Chester Lynch, champion of police reform. And Lynch wants to hire Ray away from detective cases into her ambitious National Uplift project. A minor mystery is why Ryan’s girlfriend Carol suddenly dumps him.

This gifted author can make you laugh or tug at your heart strings. Oxford itself is a key presence, and I can’t resist a sample sentence:

“And now, in the middle of the afternoon, day tilted suddenly into twilight, more rain fell on the city, dropping heavily out of the depthless sky, hammering on skylights, clattering on car roofs, crashing against windows, jumping out of gutters, strange smells coming off it like cheese and soap and doormats.” (270)

Overheard

▪ “Big-money car gets pranged, people notice, these bottom feeders get their Nikons out. Lady leaves a garbled message, does a runner, everyone’s talking. Smelled bad from the word go, now we got the paps all over it.” (27)

▪ “So this is how it’s going to work. You’re going to step up. You’re going to be a big boy and do all the big boy things. Including press conferences, answering questions, being polite.” (86)

▪ “Listen, tell you what, why don’t we mix it up this time? I’ll be the smooth posh one and you can be the one with the bad manners and irritating face. What about that, Ray?” (93)

▪ “You’re the most irresponsible person I’ve ever met. You don’t take anything seriously, you stop for a sandwich, stop for pizza, threaten to kick doors in, neglect the basics, don’t do the paperwork.” (126)

▪ “It’s my belief,” she said, “that drugs weren’t the major problem in Zara’s life. Men were,” she said. (153)

▪ Lynch cocked her head on one side, as if listening. “Know what that is, son? Sound of someone out of their depth. Heard it all my life.” (212)

▪ “What I said about money, Carol getting into trouble with certain people.” He glanced at Ryan and quickly away. “Well, there’s other people, too.” (247)

Novels No. 120

 

Matthew Quirk. The Method. USA: William Morrow Large Print, 2026.

[TPL branch functioning again. So much so that I have three orders in transit at the same time.]

The atmosphere is dark and taut, with no clues to what’s happening. Two New York actresses struggling for auditions and parts in mediocre movies; Natalie disappears and no one cares except Anna. A ruthless assassin called Sontag is killing targeted young women. An important-looking man buys a painting for eight million dollars. Kevin Matthews is an FBI agent following Anna who is also being followed by bad guys. A mysterious video and an odd necklace. Don’t hold your breath for clarity any time soon.

Committed to finding her friend, Anna thinks Natalie chanced into something nefarious or illegal at a vague financial gathering and was kidnapped by them. The good news is that Anna the actor is as well-trained as an Amazonian stunt-woman so she ably fends for herself after partnering with Matthews who also wants to find Natalie. Let’s just say this thriller has everything—a yacht, a private estate, international conspirators, East European thugs, a falcon, a zodiac, spy gadgets, stolen cars, magic technology, and a mysterious doomsday plan—as if it were written as a film script. “Running on adrenaline” is a repetitive stock phrase. Non-stop action. Shooting. It’s exhausting.

It’s overloaded with suspense as each dangerous move by Anna is described in intense detail. Was ever a friend so brave, so selfless? At least it’s women bent on taking back control. Could easily be a four- or five-hour movie.

Moments

▪ It was a simple trade: She wanted her freedom, and he wanted a portable hard drive with eleven video files on it. (102)

▪ The old wild energy had her now, driving her toward danger. (122)

▪ She wasn’t asking permission. It was time to own this goddamn thing. “This is my call. I’m going. Will you back me up?” (189)

▪ Too amped to know if she was hit or not, Anna was already rising, driving her left hand toward his wrist to deflect the weapon, then throwing her right elbow into his jaw, hard enough to twist his head around on his spine. (336)

▪ Anna saw the black mask had no holes for the eyes. It was a hood, the same as the ones they used on the falcons. (346)

▪ “He’s lying. He told me you wouldn’t cooperate with him, that you went in on your own, and that’s why you were taken.” (397)

▪ Her life might be over soon, period. It was unthinkable, but it was the truth. As it set in, Anna fought to keep her composure, but she felt herself unraveling. (451)

Ruth Ware. The Death of Mrs Westaway. Toronto: Simon & Schuster Canada, 2018.

[Dear TPL: Why are books “in transit” for ten days or more?!]

Well, here’s one I missed in Ware’s impressive lineup. Harriet (“Hal”) Westaway is certain it’s a mistake when lawyer Mr Treswick invites her to come claim an inheritance from her grandmother in Cornwall – Hester Mary Westaway. Did someone made a mistake? ... her Westaway grandparents, William and Marion, died long ago. Young Harriet has been trying to make ends meet since her mother Margarida died, by giving psychic readings, especially with tarot cards; she rents a kiosk on a Brighton pier. Her miserable living conditions and debt to a vicious loan shark convince her to attend the funeral for Hester—and play a part, if she must. Yet, on outlining the family tree by googling, she would fit right in if her mother was Hester’s missing daughter Maud. True to a classic trope, Treswick reads the will that names Hal as the major heir. Trepassen House estate is hers.

Hal frequently self-debates her willing complicity in apparent mistaken identity; this slows down the story. Much as she wants to be Maud’s daughter, the dates of birth are off; privately she’s thinking her mother must have been cousin Maggie. Housekeeper Mrs Warren is openly hostile, while three uncles react in differing ways. Stuck in a frigid attic room of the spooky old house, Hal wonders if she’ll ever know who her own father was. And is she the only person who wants to find out what happened to Maud? A diary, old letters and photographs turn up: slightly shopworn devices to push Hal’s need to know the truth. One becomes aware that so much revolves around mothers.

Although there’s a derivative quality in the setting and certain touches, Ware does provide some good twists. Love the illuminating moments in the tarot cards!

Bits

▪ “The cards don’t predict the future—they don’t give a fail-safe course. They simply tell you what could, on a given day, be one outcome to your problem.” (35)

▪ Maud is hot where her mother is cold, passionate where her mother is contained, but the bitterness and anger in each face made them look more alike than I ever realised before. (94)

▪ “Give me the damn will!” Harding shouted, and he snatched at the pieces of paper Mr. Treswick held out. (108)

▪ “My mother-in-law cut Abel off without a penny,” Mitzi explained to Hal, a touch of righteous disbelief in her voice. (115)

▪ “My mother was a bitter, poisonous woman and her one aim in life was to spread that poison as far and wide as she could.” (163)

▪ “I told you to leave once, and I’ll say it again. Good riddance. Good riddance to you, and your trash mother before you.” (218)

▪ Why had her mother lied? (240)

Novels No. 119

 

Karin Alvtegen. Missing. 2000. Tr. 2003. Toronto: Penguin Canada, 2006.

(In-house grab; TPL, hurry up) Obviously there’s a mystery going on when a thirty-two-year-old woman from a well-to-do family is homeless, living day to day scrounging for food and a place to sleep. For fifteen years?! Sibylla Forsenström chose to live on the margins, rejecting her family for reasons that slowly unfold. As if that weren’t tough enough, presently Sibylla is wanted by police for the gory murder of Jorgen Grundberg—she didn’t do it, but she had interacted with him. She wants to tell the cops the truth but knows she won’t be believed; it’s imperative that she stay out of sight. This predicament alternates with scenes from Sibylla’s miserable childhood with cruel mother Beatrice. As a lonely child who didn’t fit middle class expectations, the constant stress drove her into a psychotic break at age fifteen.

Newspaper headlines tell Sibylla that another murder has occurred with herself being blamed. At any turn for potential help, Sibylla is either blocked or abused until she finds a deserted school attic for refuge. Patrick, a sympathetic teenager, also frequents the attic—someone she can relate her history to for the first time. Together, he decides, they will figure out who or what is behind the killings. Nevertheless, bits of the story have a disconnected feel. Is the author’s intent to make Sibylla suffer as much as possible? When does violence become gratuitous? Did I mention a trope: spooky voice appearing in italics, ranting religious gibberish?

Not exactly uplifting, Missing is a sad chronicle of mental abuse shaping a child’s adulthood, although Alvtegen’s characterizations often seem awkward or amateurish. Just one of a few inconsistencies: it’s hard to reconcile Sibylla’s rough street life with a groomed woman attracting men in a sophisticated restaurant. The further I read, the less cohesive the characters felt. So I can hardly agree with the cover blurb!

The Present

▪ Being left alone to mind her own business was all she ever wanted. She’d managed to do just that for fifteen years. (52)

▪ It was intolerable that when she spoke to her mother for the last time, she had been reduced to apologising yet again. (205)

▪ Slowly but surely she adjusted to the more or less overt contempt of people she encountered. The recognition that she was a loser only sealed her solidarity with the other outcasts. (205)

▪ Why should anyone go to the trouble of murdering four severely ill individuals? (264)

The Past

▪ “In fact, you must not socialise with that kind of person, with none of these boys.” (116)

▪ That woman had turned her existence into a never-ending imprisonment. In Sibylla’s eyes her mother was transformed into an absurd monster. (126)

▪ “Cheers, Mummy. I just thought of something. Why don’t you get up on a chair and sing a Christmas song for everyone? It would be so nice.” (128)

▪ “You mustn’t take him away, he’s all I’ve got.” (199)

Tim Sullivan. The Dentist. 2020. USA: First Grove Atlantic, 2025.

(Another in-house grab; I see my TPL branch is closed due to flooding for the umpteenth time by faulty pipes in a faulty building; no wonder they are moving to a new location next year!)

DS George Cross is definitely the best and most interesting detective in DS Carson’s police squad; his place on the autism spectrum was formerly known as Asperger’s. Lacking social skills but logic personified, he is not easy to get along with, while partner Josie Ottey is acclimatizing. And the climate is highly entertaining. Their case is to identify a murdered homeless man and find his killer. A drifter called Badger becomes the suspect and is then arrested, so Carson is satisfied to close the case. But George Cross is not satisfied; he learns that Badger is a former war hero fallen on hard times. Cross is also instrumental in identifying the victim as Leonard Carpenter, a respectable dentist who’d gone missing years ago after his wife Hilary was killed. Wife and husband both murdered, even so far apart, speaks one and the same killer to Cross.

The Dentist is not built on plot twists and surprises; it’s character-driven by this gifted policeman of unusual methods. As his life is also dominated by his intrinsic condition. Cross and Ottey, with newbie cop Alice Mackenzie are about to meet the Carpenter family – Leonard’s three daughters – and solve this case. No one had seen nor heard from Leonard and they’d had him declared dead after seven years; they are shocked he’d still been alive and homeless. For a long time he’d been obsessed with finding his wife’s killer, collecting all kinds of information. The detectives face any number of frustrating issues, beginning with now-retired cop Stuart MacDonald – once upon a time Cross’ superior officer – who had conducted a sloppy, inconclusive investigation into Hilary’s death.

Through it all, Cross follows his own rationale with or without the approval or assistance of others. Often viewed as rude by those who know nothing of Asperger’s, he unintentionally sets up very funny dialogue exchanges. Yet he untangles the plot from the slightest of clues. Author Sullivan has awesome insight into Cross; it’s a fascinating journey with a unique character.

Peeks

▪ “People have a problem with your manner. You piss them off.” (21)

▪ “It isn’t a hunch. It’s an informed calculation.” (42)

▪ He needed proof. He needed certainty. Above all, he had an indefatigable need to get it right, to have it in order. For the right person to be found and convicted. (76)

▪ MacDonald had instantaneously taken against what he perceived as an insolent, bad-mannered, above-himself arsehole of a junior officer. Nothing was really known about Asperger’s in those days – the first diagnosis wasn’t made in the UK until the mid-nineties – and so Cross just came across as a wilful oddball, or as MacDonald put it, “pain in the arse screw-up who had no place in the police.” (104)

▪ “It wasn’t a family business. It was Leonard’s dental practice, managed by Hilary before she stopped to become a full-time writer.” (150)

▪ These are the things he picked up on, which might not seem relevant to others. If something is out of character there has to be a reason for it. (183)

▪ Why had MacDonald lied about seeing Leonard? (208)

Novels No. 118

 

Simon Mason. A Voice in the Night. UK: riverrun/Quercus Editions Limited, 2025.

Here come the Wilkins detective partners again: Ray is black, highly educated, thoughtful; Ryan is smart-ass, insensitive, barely articulate. And Thames Valley police have a brand new head, DCS Rebecca Wainwright, who strikes fear with plans to reform her department. Our bickering two are investigating the killing of renowned but opinionated linguist scholar Joe Emmet who managed to antagonize colleagues and collectors alike in the world of archaeology. Fellow detective Rodney Hare is on the case of a mysterious break-in at the Pelzer Institute where linguists work to decipher bits of ancient languages in Bible-age parchment. Joe’s body was found in pyjamas on a hotel lawn far from home; wife Greta, a molecular biologist, is devastated. His last evening was onstage in a public debate with Sebastian Franks, another scholar that Joe denigrated.

It’s a very difficult murder to reconstruct, twisting through the uglier parts of Oxford. Many surprises await among the “rough sleeper” witnesses, a heckler at Joe’s last debate, a religious fanatic, and kids in training for a life of crime. Not to mention Wainwright’s secretive meetings with the Chief Constable and threats made against Ryan’s little son, cared for by his sister Jade. Searching for a motive and a killer changes course several times, to Wainwright’s annoyance; Ryan is on the edge of losing his job for his impulsive outbursts. But they learn the importance of those old biblical fragments and their value to collectors.

Complex characters lead us around, over, and into the active night in question. Ryan’s colloquial expressions are delightful, adding to a greatly entertaining—as well as baffling—story. Rather irresistible, these guys.

Voices

▪ “Nothing wrong with my behaviour when I’m not surrounded by knobheads.” (15)

▪ “Odd one though, right? Man who speaks twelve kinds of Bible.” (37)

▪ “Half of Emmet’s research fellowships were terminated early. He argued with everybody. ... He criticised everyone, the police, the government, universities, fellow academics.” (71)

▪ “Why is it always me running after homeless guys and always you having coffee with professors and sucking up to the Super?” (131)

▪ Inappropriately, he started to laugh. “We got everything wrong.” (191)

▪ “Joe regularly hinted that he was going to expose things in these collections as fakes; it didn’t always work out, by the way. Too often he was driven by personal animosity.” (223)

▪ “Every day,” she said, “you tell me something new, something hard to believe.” Her voice was quiet but unstable. (263)

▪ “The Super’s blowing her top. If you want to save yourself, stop pissing about and call her now.” (268)

Matthew Pearl. The Award. USA: HarperCollins, 2025.

Cambridge, Massachusetts, is the university town populated mainly by writers, according to writer David Trent who lives there, working furiously on his first novel. With girlfriend Bonnie, he’s just moved into a poorly-designed third-floor apartment featuring a dangerous outside staircase and a weird trap door arrangement. But the unexpected gold bonus is that his idol, admired author Silas Hale, lives in the rest of the house with wife Rebecca. He envisions a lofty new friendship. Alas, Hale treats him like dirt for no apparent reason, in his usual socially abrasive manner. Trying to change his mind becomes David’s overriding obsession. Among his loose circle of fellow writers and their barely concealed rivalry, David pretends they have a thriving relationship.

Actually, David tends to stumble into lies to mask his neediness for recognition, or to avoid disappointing people. When he can’t solve their home heating problem, thanks to a spiteful Hale, Bonnie’s had enough and leaves him. Not much later a call comes to say his published novel has won a prestigious literary prize. Naturally he spreads the news in a state of euphoria—this will certainly earn him Hale’s respect. Then: oh-oh. Before the official announcement is made, he’s told it was an error. Here comes the crime I was waiting for, entangling David more than ever in a turmoil of panic and guilt. Yet all is not lost; Vanity Fair decides to profile him as an emerging writer, and that’s even better than an award.

A bit crazy, a bit scary, watching a man circling self-destruction; snatched from catastrophic disgrace over and over again by external events. Author Pearl has produced a superb satire of the publishing-cum-authors’ gossiping world. And we don’t even need to know what David’s novel was about.

Shots

▪ “Silas Hale doesn’t care about you. He despises us already for being an inconvenience to him, all while you shovel out his car and drag his garbage to the street. If you dropped dead he’d step right over you.” (65)

▪ No matter how much he rehearsed to himself how to explain the award mishap to people, how to slyly convert it all into a lighthearted joke that showed how little it meant, he still couldn’t do it. (79)

▪ “She can write the way a woman shouldn’t be able to.” (95)

▪ “Arrested, David! Silas Hale was arrested for murder!” (129)

▪ “If I could go back in time and go to law school, I would, even though it turns passably intelligent men into automatons.” (145)

▪ “You’re nothing, Trent! A fraud and a failure underfoot real men! I’ll crush you!” Silas was spitting, his eyes bulging. (150)

▪ “There’s nothing wrong with the book, not at all, David.” Barnaby grinned with an open friendly air. “But whatever it is, it’s certainly not award material.” (161)

Novels No. 117

  

Elizabeth Day. One of Us. NYC: Viking, 2025.

Invitations to the funeral of Lady Felicity (Fliss) Fitzmaurice present a nexus for assorted individuals who lament her accidental death in Bali. Martin Gilmour was a longtime friend of Fliss’ ambitious brother Ben—Ben, a government cabinet minister. Having kept a felonious secret of Ben’s for years, Martin was recently and unceremoniously dumped from Ben’s life. His shock at the rebuff turned into a wish for revenge; the invitation is a surprise. Ben’s wife Serena sent it; her late conversion to feminist ranks has made her less tolerant of her husband’s casual womanizing. An affair with Ben’s bankroller Andrew Jarvis is Serena’s revenge. The invite was also a surprise to Richard Take, a former MP caught watching porn at the office, who overcame disgrace by guesting on reality TV and podcasts to capture the enthusiasm of a younger generation. Cannily, Ben chooses Richard as his wing man for the party leadership campaign; it’s understood Ben is almost anointed as next prime minister.

Unknown to her parents Serena and Ben, teenaged Cosima is a secret eco-warrior, seriously committed to protests and demonstrations against Big Oil. She was the only family member who appreciated wild and unhappy Aunt Fliss. When Cosima is identified by her fellow protesters and her parents at a demo gone wrong, long-suppressed criminal acts face exposure. The effects caused by Fliss’ death are as important as how she died. Martin is the main observer here as the characters collide, realign, or deteriorate.

One of Us is a delicious, sometimes vicious, satire of traditional upper-class behaviour. So well-written, the novel runs the gamut from cold-blooded assaults to laugh-out-loud moments. More than that, author Day penetrates the complicated turmoil of motherhood, fatherhood, and needy children.

Messages

▪ She understood, too, her role in Ben’s life as he scaled the political heights. She was the wife who looked good in Sunday newspaper supplement photoshoots while keeping all the necessary secrets. (34)

▪ “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I quite heard ... Did you say ...” I tread carefully. “That Fliss ... killed herself?” (88)

▪ This time, I’m motivated not by a need to belong, but by a need to bring them down. The whole bloody lot of them. (101)

▪ She thought Jarvis boorish and unprepossessing – an impression that lasted for several years, until he started bailing Ben out financially. (114)

▪ “Is it all just a fucking massive ego trip, Dad? Is it?” (142)

▪ She thinks of River, his slumped body on the ground, the shouting of the truck drivers and the strange silence of everything else. (145)

▪ Andrew Jarvis had stolen the last of her. And her brother – her beloved little brother – had done nothing to stop it. (198)

▪ “Burn the fuckers down,” she said, placing one of her heavy, capable hands over his. “Then throw away the matches.” (268)

Ruth Mancini. The Day I Lost You. USA: HarperCollins, 2025.

The opening scenes had me so nervous for this woman I wondered briefly if I should stop. Lauren Hopwood and her two-year-old son Sam are hiding in Spain. It’s pure luck that a neighbour – Gabe – is friendly and caring; he whisks her away after the policía come to inspect her and Sam’s passports. She’s told that a couple back in England accuse her of abducting their child. Hope Dunsmore and husband Drew contacted the police, but they waited until well after it happened. The chronology of events and Sam’s biology are unclear, increasing the tension at each step. Desperate Lauren realizes she can’t live on the run forever, especially with a child. Knowing she must return to the U.K. and face the problem, she engages a criminal lawyer in advance. Trusted Gabe agrees to keep Sam safely hidden in Spain.

Rolling back a few months at a time, even to pregnancy days, the author’s reverse construction is ever so clever. Each woman’s past actions only add to the mystery and confusion; it’s not my place to spoil straighten it out here. There was some kind of accident trauma, hospital stays, disconnect from reality, possibly two baby boys? Learning that Hope is a grief counsellor, Lauren arranged to be a client, concealing her identity. But Hope and Drew were acting strangely (it is a strange story!) before Lauren and Sam disappear. In real time, when Lauren arrives in the U.K. to face the music, she’s arrested. Ultimately none of the characters react the way you expect.

It’s a challenge to follow the lies being told to protect baby Sam—or to choose what or whom to believe. Coincidences can be annoying, but convoluted trauma, loss, grief—Mancini creates unbearable tension that only lapses a little when the end approaches.

Jabs

▪ “How could you?” I snap. “How could you tell them I’m not Sam’s natural mother?” (66)

▪ But, as a therapist, I should have known better; I was the last person on this planet who should have been counselling her, and I should have known that. (71)

▪ We have to find Lauren. We have to find her ourselves. Because there’s a very good chance that unless we find her before the police do, we may never see Sam again. (72)

▪ I haven’t worked it all out yet, but my gut instinct tells me that it’s too much of a coincidence that Hope Dunsmore was giving birth to her baby while I was losing my baby, in the exact same hospital on the exact same day. (116)

▪ “No, Drew,” I say. “You won’t. You know you won’t, because if you call the police, they’ll find out what you did.” (158)

▪ I tell her what I’ve told everyone else: that I can’t remember anything about that day except waking up and being cut out of the car by firemen. (206-7)

▪ “But ... what if you felt differently once you got to know me. What if I’m not the person you think I am?” (239)