PLOT & PACING
Isabelle Drake hasn’t slept well since the night her son, Mason, disappeared from his crib. To keep attention on the case, she’s become a reluctant public figure on the true crime circuit. But the story shifts when a true crime podcaster arrives, forcing Isabelle to confront her past and her own reliability. The plot unfolds across two timelines—one in the present, one from Isabelle’s childhood—both casting doubt on what she knows and what she’s repressing. While the pacing can feel slow, it builds tension with steady unease.

CHARACTER & VOICE
Isabelle is a complex, emotionally frayed narrator. Her desperation and exhaustion feel palpable, and the foggy boundaries of her memory make her both sympathetic and suspect. As the novel explores her history—including the long-buried trauma of her sister’s death—her voice remains the anchor. Secondary characters feel functional, but Isabelle’s inner life is rich and unsettling.

STYLE & ATMOSPHERE
Willingham’s prose is accessible and clean, with just enough lyrical edge to keep things interesting. The tone is claustrophobic and disorienting—perfect for a story about the creeping edges of sanity. The atmosphere walks the line between domestic thriller and psychological horror.

THEMES & DEPTH
At its heart, the novel examines motherhood and memory—how trauma can warp our perceptions and what it means to trust yourself. The interplay between public persona and private pain adds another layer. It also asks: what happens when the only thing you can rely on (your own mind) turns against you?

PERSONAL TAKE
This wasn’t quite as gripping as A Flicker in the Dark, but it had its moments. I liked the misdirection, the layers of memory, and the dual timelines. It reminded me a bit of The Girl on the Train—but less about scandal, more about self-doubt. I didn’t love it, but I appreciated the exploration of maternal grief and fragmented identity. I really wanted this book to explore the critique of the true crime industry a bit more, but that is not this book.