Loch Dorcha

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first. *Another* brooding Scottish revenge tale? But *Loch Dorcha* disarmed me by refusing to play by genre rules. The story’s structure—flashing between Zoe’s present-day return and her mother’s final weeks—should feel gimmicky, but Hensel makes it sing. The past isn’t just backstory; it’s a ghost breathing down Zoe’s neck, and Ridley’s performance sells that haunting better than any jump scare. Her delivery in the confrontation scenes is *electric*—the way her voice drops to a whisper before exploding into accusation had me rewinding just to hear it again. That said, the pacing stumbles in the middle. The village’s secrets are teased out *just* a beat too long, and Michael Abubakar’s otherwise strong performance as the local cop sometimes gets drowned out by the ensemble’s heavier hitters. (A shame, because his scenes with Ridley are the audiobook’s tensest.) The ending, too, might frustrate listeners craving neat justice—this is a story more interested in rot than resolution. But the production’s immersive minimalism (no distracting music, just the occasional creak of a floorboard or distant sheep) makes the Highlands feel like a living, breathing trap. If you love your thrillers atmospheric, vengeful, and narrated like a knife fight in a confessional, this is your next obsession.