Across State Lines

I’ll admit, I hit play on *Across State Lines* expecting another by-the-numbers serial killer yarn—but within 20 minutes, I was gripping my steering wheel like I’d just merged into a blind spot. Lauren Biel’s decision to split the narrative between the trucker (a monster with the folksy charm of a guy who’d help you jump-start your car) and his unwitting passenger (a woman whose backstory unfolds like a bloodstained map) creates a push-pull dynamic that’s as fascinating as it is horrifying. Teddy Hamilton’s narration as the killer is *terrifyingly* good—not because he snarls or growls, but because he sounds like your uncle telling a story at a family reunion, the kind of voice that makes you lean in before you realize you should’ve run. Michelle Sparks, meanwhile, nails the exhaustion of a woman who’s been running so long she’s forgotten what safety feels like. Their chemistry in the dialogue scenes is electric, the kind of back-and-forth that makes you forget you’re listening to a performance. That said, this isn’t a perfect ride. The middle act sags slightly under the weight of its own tension—Biel takes a few too many detours into the trucker’s backstory that, while atmospheric, don’t always deepen the plot. And while the ending *works*, it’s the kind of ambiguous coda that’ll frustrate listeners craving catharsis (I rewound the last chapter twice, torn between admiration and annoyance). But the production? Flawless. The audio engineering uses the silence between chapters like a held breath, and the occasional ambient sounds (a truck’s air brakes, the distant wail of a siren) are so subtle you might miss them—until they’re gone, and the absence feels eerie. If you love thrillers that double as character studies, where the real horror isn’t the violence but the *choices* that lead to it, this one’s worth the toll. Just don’t listen on a long drive alone.