Look, I started this one on my drive home after a particularly brutal night shift - we'd had a code that went sideways and I just needed something to pull me out of my own head. A locked-room mystery on a creepy island? Perfect. Exactly the kind of distraction I needed.
And then Alice Feeney went and made me cry in my car at 7:45 AM.
The Setup That Had Me Hooked Before I Hit the Highway
So here's the deal: the Darker family (yes, that's really their name, and yes, the book leans into it) reunites at Nana's crumbling gothic mansion on a tidal island. Eight hours cut off from the world. A storm rolling in. And then people start dying, one by one, hour by hour.
It's basically Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None but with a dysfunctional family instead of strangers. That same creeping dread of isolation and mounting paranoia shows up in It, though King takes it in a much darker direction. And honestly? The family dysfunction hits different. These people have HISTORY. Secrets that have been festering for decades. Every single one of them is hiding something, and Feeney drops these little breadcrumbs throughout that had me muttering "wait, what?" at red lights.
The thing is - and I'm not spoiling anything here - this book has a twist. Everyone talks about the twist. I'd heard there was a twist going in. And I STILL didn't see it coming. When it hit, I actually pulled into my driveway and just... sat there. Staring at my garage door. Processing.
Carlos asked why I was crying in the car. I blamed allergies. (It was not allergies.)
Why Stephanie Racine Was the Perfect Choice
Stephanie Racine. I'd listened to her before but couldn't remember where - she's one of those narrators who disappears into the story, you know? Her voice has this wryly prim quality that fits Daisy perfectly. There's something almost fairy-tale-ish about her delivery, which makes sense because each chapter starts with these dark nursery rhyme verses that Nana wrote about each family member.
The way Racine handles those rhymes - slightly sing-song, a little ominous - gave me actual chills. And her timing? Impeccable. She knows exactly when to pause, when to let a revelation breathe. There's this moment about two-thirds through where something clicks into place, and the way she delivers that line... I rewound it three times.
Each character gets a distinct voice without it feeling cartoonish. The bitter mother. The golden-child sister. The resentful brother. Nana herself. You always know who's speaking, but it never pulls you out of the story.
This Is Not a Fast Book (And That's Fine)
Fair warning: this is a slow burn. Like, slow. If you're looking for action-packed thriller pacing, this ain't it. The mystery unfolds at its own pace, with lots of flashbacks and family history woven in. Some nights when I was exhausted, I found my attention drifting during the slower middle sections.
But here's the thing - all those "slow" parts? They're doing work. Every single detail matters. Every weird family dynamic. Every seemingly throwaway memory. Feeney is playing chess while you think you're playing checkers. By the time you realize what's actually happening, it's too late. You're already crying in your driveway.
I listened at regular speed, which I almost never do - I usually bump up to 1.25x. But something about Racine's pacing made me want to savor it. Plus, I was genuinely worried I'd miss a clue.
Who This Is For (And Who Should Skip It)
If you love a good whodunit with actual emotional stakes, this is your book. If you appreciate when authors respect your intelligence and plant clues fairly - even if you don't catch them - you'll love this. If you've got a complicated family and sometimes wonder what would happen if you locked everyone in a house together... maybe this is cathartic? (Maybe don't actually do that though.)
Skip it if you need fast pacing or if dark family drama isn't your thing. There's psychological weight here - themes of neglect, favoritism, the way families can wound each other in ways that never quite heal. Silent Woman explores similar family wounds, though with less of the gothic atmosphere. It's not gratuitously dark, but it's not light either.
Perfect for that post-shift decompression when you need to be somewhere else entirely. Just maybe have tissues handy for the end.
Clocking Out
I'm still thinking about this one, honestly. That ending. The way everything clicks into place. I've been recommending it to everyone in the break room - even Dr. Martinez, who claims he doesn't have time for audiobooks. (He does. He just pretends he doesn't.)
Night shift approved. Twist approved. Crying in your car at dawn apparently also approved.
