Look, I need to talk about the in-laws in this book because they drove me up a wall — and I mean that as a compliment to Clark and Burke.
I was chopping onions for a chana masala at 9 PM on a Tuesday (yes, alone, yes, by choice, we've been over this) when Robert and Cynthia Bell showed up in my earbuds demanding justice for their murdered son. And I found myself asking: why does this couple really want Laurie Moran's help? They say they want the truth. But what they actually want is confirmation of what they already believe — that their daughter-in-law Kendra killed Martin. The protagonist exhibits classic cognitive dissonance when she starts peeling back the layers and realizes the Bells aren't truth-seekers. They're conviction-seekers. There's a difference, and it matters.
This is the fifth book in the Under Suspicion series, and honestly, it reads like Clark and Burke have settled into a comfortable groove — maybe a little too comfortable in places, but I'll get to that.
When the "Perfect Victim" Isn't Perfect
What makes this case study interesting is Martin Bell himself. Celebrity doctor. Philanthropist. Devoted father. Shot in his own Greenwich Village driveway. Five years cold. The setup practically begs you to sympathize with the dead man and suspect the "disgraced and erratic" wife. And the book knows you'll do this. It's counting on it.
But then the cracks appear. Martin's secrets — the professional ones, the personal ones — start surfacing, and suddenly the victim profile gets a lot murkier. The research actually shows that we overwhelmingly sympathize with murder victims we perceive as "good," and Clark and Burke exploit that bias hard. They let you build your little psychological profile of Perfect Martin and then methodically dismantle it. I appreciated that. What I appreciated less was how neatly some of those revelations were packaged. Real secrets don't come with bows on them. A few of these felt a little too convenient, too perfectly timed for dramatic effect rather than organic discovery.
Kendra, the suspected wife, is the more psychologically interesting character by a mile. She's cooperating with the show — why? If she's guilty, that's reckless. If she's innocent, it's desperate. Either way, it's a woman who's been living under suspicion (pun intended, and I think the authors intended it too) for five years while raising kids whose grandparents are actively trying to take them away. My therapist would have thoughts about this character. The grief, the rage, the performance of normalcy — it's all there, and it mostly tracks.
The Stalker Problem (and January LaVoy's Voice for Him)
Then there's the stalker subplot. The mystery stranger watching Laurie, thinking she's "quite a lovely girl" who's "going to be missed." Psychologically, this doesn't fully track for me. The stalker's internal monologue feels grafted onto a story that didn't quite need it — like Clark and Burke wanted to raise the personal stakes for Laurie beyond the case itself but couldn't quite integrate the two threads organically. It works as a tension device. It doesn't entirely work as character psychology.
But here's where January LaVoy earns her keep. Her voice for the stalker sections drops into something colder, more detached — there's a flatness to the affect that actually sells the menace better than the writing does in places. She's stronger with Laurie herself, though. LaVoy gives Laurie this measured, slightly clipped professional tone that softens when she's with Alex or her son, and you can hear the shift without it feeling performed. The character differentiation between the Bell family members is solid too — Cynthia gets this tight, controlled quality versus Robert's warmer but equally stubborn energy.
Where LaVoy stumbles is pacing. Some of the middle sections — the investigative procedural parts where Laurie's team is running down leads — feel rushed, like LaVoy is trying to push through exposition to get back to the good stuff. And the ending wraps up fast. Almost abruptly. I was rinsing dishes when it ended and literally said "wait, that's it?" to my empty kitchen.
At seven hours, this is a brisk listen. Maybe too brisk. The case deserved another hour of breathing room. The personal stakes with Alex's judicial appointment and their wedding planning feel like wallpaper — present but not load-bearing.
Who Gets the Most Out of This
If you've been following the Under Suspicion series, this is solid mid-series fare. Not the strongest entry, but it does what you want it to do. If you're new to the series, you can jump in here without being lost, though you'll miss some of the relationship context with Alex and Laurie's father Leo.
Compared to something like Riley Sager's work (which LaVoy has also narrated), this is lighter, more procedural, less atmospheric. Burning Bright sits closer to that atmospheric end of the spectrum — the kind of mystery that lingers in your chest for days after — so if you want the heavier psychological texture this one pulls back from, that's where I'd send you. It's closer to a Law & Order episode than a psychological deep-dive. And that's fine — not every mystery needs to be a descent into the human psyche. Sometimes you want the puzzle. Clark and Burke give you a pretty good puzzle. I just wish they'd let the characters be a little messier, a little less neatly resolved.
People who need airtight character motivations might get twitchy in a few spots. People who enjoy a clean, well-constructed whodunit with decent family drama will have a good time.
My Case Notes
This is a fascinating case study in how families construct narratives about their own — the Bells can't see their son clearly because grief won't let them, and Kendra can't defend herself because the court of public opinion already convicted her. That tension is the best thing about this book. I just wish the stalker subplot had been either more integrated or cut entirely. Pick a lane. But LaVoy's narration carries you through the uneven spots, and at seven hours, the commitment is low enough that I'd say it's worth your time on a weeknight when you need something engaging but not devastating.
