Find Me

I’ll admit: I rolled my eyes at first when *Find Me* opened with *another* missing-white-woman trope. But Kovach subverts expectations by making Kate—Jess’s sister and our protagonist—such a prickly, flawed guide. She’s not a plucky amateur sleuth; she’s a woman drowning in guilt, whose investigations oscillate between brilliant deductions and self-sabotaging meltdowns. The audiobook’s strength lies in how Frederick sells this volatility. Her performance in the early chapters feels almost *too* raw—Kate’s voice is nasally with suppressed tears, her laughter brittle—but it pays off when the story pivots to its creepier second act. The production team deserves credit for the audio’s immersive details: when Kate scrolls through Jess’s old social media, you *hear* the thumb-swipe sounds, the hollow echo of an empty DM thread. That said, the pacing stumbles in the middle. Kovach’s red herrings (a shady neighbor, a cryptic journalist) feel obligatory rather than organic, and a subplot involving Kate’s teenage daughter strains credibility—no 16-year-old would realistically tolerate that level of maternal neglect without rebellion. The finale, too, hinges on a reveal that’s telegraphed a bit *too* heavily. But the audiobook’s atmosphere saves it: Frederick’s delivery during the climactic confrontation is skin-crawlingly good, her voice dropping to a guttural whisper that makes the villain’s banality even more terrifying. If you love thrillers that marinate in psychological realism (think *The Widow* meets *You*), and don’t mind a protagonist who’s as infuriating as she is compelling, this is a solid pick. Just don’t expect neat resolutions—or likable characters.