The Girl and the Hidden Place

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first. *Another* missing-kids case? But *The Girl and the Hidden Place* gutted me by page three—and Duncan’s narration is why. She doesn’t just *read* Penny’s dialogue; she *chokes* on it, like the words are clawing their way out. There’s a scene where Penny confronts a suspect in a diner, and Duncan’s voice drops to this venomous whisper that made me grip my steering wheel. (Pro tip: Don’t listen to this while driving. The tension is *physical*.) The dual-POV structure could’ve felt gimmicky, but Rivers uses it to brutal effect. Penny’s sections are claustrophobic, all jagged memories and half-baked theories, while Emma’s chapters are cold, methodical—until they’re not. The pacing stumbles slightly in the middle when Emma’s bureaucratic hurdles drag, but the payoff is worth it. My one real critique? The ending’s ambiguity will *infuriate* some listeners. Not because it’s poorly executed, but because Rivers refuses to tie everything in a bow. That said, the final 20 minutes—with Duncan’s voice trembling as Penny processes the truth—are some of the most devastating I’ve heard in crime fiction this year. This isn’t a thriller for escapism. It’s for anyone who’s ever wondered how far they’d go for the truth, and whether they’d even recognize it if they found it.