Beneath Devil's Bridge

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first. *Another* podcaster-protagonist? But *Beneath Devil’s Bridge* won me over by weaponizing that trope against itself. Trinity Scott isn’t just chasing a story—she’s a flawed, often infuriating character whose podcast success hinges on her ability to manipulate both her audience *and* the people connected to the case. The audiobook’s genius lies in how it forces you to complicate your own listening: Ezzo’s performance makes Trinity’s podcast segments feel sickeningly real, complete with awkward pauses and over-enunciated drama, while the third-person chapters (delivered with chilling restraint by Merlington) expose the human cost of her ambition. The pacing is deliberate, almost claustrophobic in the first act, but the payoff—a twist involving the town’s history and a *second* missing person—lands like a gut punch. That said, the book isn’t without stumbles. The romantic subplot feels tacked on, a distracting detour in an otherwise lean narrative, and the final act’s reliance on a somewhat convenient revelation about the killer’s motives weakens the impact of the slower, more psychological buildup. Still, the production elevates the material: the audio engineers use silence and ambient sound (the creak of a bridge, the distant lapping of water) to ratchet up the dread, and Ezzo’s voice work—particularly in the podcast segments—is so convincing I had to remind myself this wasn’t a real true crime feed. For fans of *Serial*-style mysteries with a darker edge, or anyone who’s ever side-eyed a true crime host’s ethics, this is a must-listen. Just don’t start it before bed—trust me on that.