I was three hours into a logo redesign at 2 AM, Diego purring on my keyboard like he owned the place, when Lucy casually imagined stabbing someone with a corkscrew. I laughed so hard I woke up Frida. And then I felt weird about laughing. And then I kept listening because apparently I'm the kind of person who finds murder fantasies hilarious now.
This book broke something in me. In the best way.
When Your Inner Voice Is a Little Unhinged
Lucy Chase might be a murderer. She doesn't know. She can't remember. But what she CAN do is mentally catalog exactly how she'd kill every single person she encounters—the nosy neighbor, the ex-husband, the too-handsome podcaster investigating her case. January LaVoy delivers these intrusive thoughts with this bone-dry, almost bored tone that made me snort-laugh during what should be deeply disturbing moments.
The thing is, Lucy's voice isn't played for shock value. LaVoy gives her this sardonic fatalism—like she's so tired of being the town pariah that imagining creative murders is just... coping. There's genuine vulnerability underneath the dark humor, and LaVoy finds that balance without ever making Lucy feel like a caricature. By hour five, I was rooting for this woman who might have killed her best friend. What does that say about me? (Don't answer that.)
The Podcast-Within-A-Book Actually Works
Okay, so every thriller and their mother uses the "true crime podcast" device now. I've listened to at least six books that tried it. Most of them feel like someone described a podcast to an author who'd never actually heard one.
This? Different. Will Damron narrates the podcast segments as host Ben Owens, and the production team added actual intro music, transitions, the whole deal. It sounds like a real podcast. Like, uncomfortably real. I caught myself almost reaching for my phone to pause it before realizing—wait, this is the book.
Damron's voice is honeyed and just a little too smooth, which is perfect for Ben. He's charming and genuine but also clearly exploiting Lucy's trauma for content, and you can hear that slickness underneath the empathy. The contrast between his polished podcast voice and LaVoy's raw, messy Lucy creates this tension that kept me listening way past when I should've been sleeping.
Small confession: the podcast music did get slightly repetitive by hour seven. I get why some people found it grating. But honestly? It added to the immersion for me. Real podcasts have annoying jingles too.
Small Texas Town Gossip Hits Different
Abuela would have had OPINIONS about this book. The small-town gossip, the way everyone knows everyone's business, the mothers who smile to your face and whisper behind your back—it felt like visiting her neighborhood in San Antonio, except with more murder. The way Lucy's mom oscillates between protecting her daughter and resenting her for ruining the family's reputation? I've seen that dynamic. It's uncomfortable because it's real.
There's a romance subplot that some people apparently hated, and look—it's not subtle. There's a scene involving some... intense physical dynamics that made me pause my work and just stare at my screen for a minute. Is it gratuitous? Maybe. Did I hate it? No. It fit Lucy's character—someone who's been treated like a monster for so long she's started to lean into it.
Who Should Listen (And Who Should Run)
If you need your protagonists likeable and your mysteries cozy, run. This isn't that. Lucy is prickly and damaged and sometimes genuinely unpleasant. The humor is dark enough that you might question your own moral compass for laughing. I had that same moral reckoning with Lolita—laughing at Humbert's wit while being horrified by what he is.
But if you love unreliable narrators, if true crime podcasts are your guilty pleasure, if you want a thriller that's actually funny without sacrificing tension—this is your book. The audiobook specifically is worth it. Reading this in print would lose so much of what makes it special. Skip if you can't handle dark humor about violence or if spicy scenes make you uncomfortable.
My Heart Is Confused But Full
I finished this at 4 AM, Diego long since abandoned me for the bed, and I just sat there processing. The ending worked for me—satisfying without being too neat. But more than the plot, I keep thinking about Lucy's voice. That exhausted defiance. The way LaVoy made me feel protective of a woman who might be a killer.
This is a rainy Sunday book if your Sundays involve existential dread and dark humor. It's a 3 AM design session book. It's a "I should probably examine why I relate to this" book.
Abuela would have gasped at the spicy parts and then asked me to summarize the whole thing anyway. Miss you, Abuela. You would've loved hating Lucy's mom.
