He’d always wondered why people in rural areas, when interviewed after appalling violence, said, “This isn’t supposed to happen here.” As if violence had forgotten to keep itself within some prescribed geographic boundary.
It’s a pretty appropriate opening chapter for a book I’m reviewing in the middle of October: a hapless housewife, a ghoulish trick-or-treater, and a knife. From there the book is less horror and more a simple murder mystery, although simple is the wrong word to describe the story.
An abandoned’89 Monte Carlo and no trace of the beautiful teenage owner starts former police officer Frank Rath on a hunt that leads to the case of several more missing girls in the surrounding states. The search becomes even more urgent when the decomposed body of one of the teenagers is found with disturbing signs that she may have been…carved.
(I should probably insert a warning here that a good part of the book deals with a pretty divisive issue. I can’t say what issue – it’s kind of important to the plot – but a lot of people feel that the occasional Lifetime-move-style rants of the characters means the author’s beliefs fall strongly against one side. I disagree; the topic is way too complicated for anyone other than the most close-minded to be one hundred percent on one side or another. If the author’s against anything it’s entitlement, lack of empathy, and fanaticism (which, in its own way, is just another type of entitlement.)
It’s become standard practice to have stories about mysterious disappearances take place in small towns, so I wasn’t surprised when the main story picks up fifteen years later in the tiny community of Canaan in rural Vermont. We see Frank Rath trying to process a fresh deer carcass (not easy with the constant agony of a back problem), getting called to help with a missing person case off-the-books (the girl hasn’t been missing long enough for her to be officially considered “missing”), driving to the scene while he muses about the fact that small towns aren’t immune to pointless acts of violence, especially this town and then…whoa. Wait a sec, hang on, did I read that last paragraph right?
Okay, that was a completely unexpected revelation, and it was nicely set-up by the author. I’m officially intrigued.
Frank’s backstory is just one of the many many details that Rickstad works into his story about one missing person case turning into a search for a possible serial killer with impossible-to-determine motives. Descriptions of the dark, lonely atmosphere of Vermont (where the author currently lives, and it shows) are mixed with a dozen or more unique characters, all with their own backstories and quirks and motivations. Some reviewers have complained about the characters speaking with too many one-word sentences, but I actually enjoyed the smart-aleck comments and responses, and the clipped, dry dialog that doesn’t use any more words than it absolutely has to.
“What do you want?” she said.
So much for levity, Rath thought.
“To ask you questions about Mandy,” he said
“What’s she done?”
“What makes you think she’s done something?”
“Ummm. You?”
Sometimes it feels like there’s a bit too much detail: Frank’s health problems and attempts to start dating again, the junior detective’s obsession with marathon running, minor family problems leading to complications with a weekly darts game, the lead detective’s love of the seasonal Clear Brook Farm cider donuts, a lot of it doesn’t feel like it has anything to do with the actual story. There’s a scene midway through the book where a branch crashes through Frank’s window in the middle of the night that comes out of nowhere and is never mentioned again. But it’s all part of the total picture that the author paints of the town, and you never know when one detail will become vitally important later in the book.
It’s tough to review the specific details of the case or the story without giving too much away, but Rickstad is good at making the reader think they know where a story is going, and then taking it in a completely different direction. This isn’t like a TV police procedural with just one or two options for whodunnit; the author pulls in every misdirection and red herring he can, without making it obvious that that’s what he’s doing. Just like an actual police investigation, the officers chase one lead after another – not all of them panning out – and there were quite a few times when I was sure I knew where the story was going, and I was generally wrong. Lots of surprises here, including the ending. Especially the ending. Couple of big plot twists in the last few pages. I’m not sure if this is a lead up for a sequel or just the gutsiest way to leave the reader hanging, but it’s chillingly effective either way.