From the bestselling author of In My Dreams I Hold a Knife and Midnight is the Darkest Hour comes a chilling, compulsive story of five amateur sleuths, whose hunt for an elusive killer catapults them into danger as the world watches.

It’s the most famous crime in modern history. But only she knows the true story.

After the unexpected death of her father, college student Jane Sharp longs for a distraction from her grief. She becomes obsessed with true crime, befriending armchair detectives who teach her how to hunt killers from afar. In this morbid internet underground, Jane finds friendship, purpose, and even glory…

So when news of the shocking deaths of three college girls in Delphine, Idaho takes the world by storm, and sleuths everywhere race to solve the crimes, Jane and her friends are determined to beat them. But the case turns out to be stranger than anyone expected. Details don’t add up, the police are cagey, and there seems to be more media hype and internet theorizing than actual evidence. When Jane and her sleuths take a step closer, they find that every answer only begs more questions. Something’s not adding up, and they begin to suspect their killer may be smarter and more prolific than any they’ve faced before. Placing themselves in the center of the story starts to feel more and more like walking into a trap…

Told one year after the astounding events that concluded the case and left the world reeling, when Jane has finally decided to break her silence about what really happened, she tells the true story of the Delphine Massacres. And what she has to confess will shock even the most seasoned true crime fans…

I received an advance galley of this book courtesy of the publisher via NetGalley. All thoughts are my own.

As someone with a complicated relationship with true crime, this one hit a nerve – both for better and worse. There was a time when true crime was my go-to, especially during the pandemic. I couldn’t get enough of podcasts, documentaries, and late-night binges of “Dateline.” Diving into cases, following every new detail, and rooting for justice felt meaningful. But as time passed, the moral weight of it all started to affect me. The exploitation of real-life tragedies, the fanatical obsession that seemed to consume people, and the growing awareness of the ethical gray areas left me feeling a little gross – to the point where I dropped it entirely and haven’t looked back.

That said, reading this book felt like revisiting a complicated old friend – familiar but uncomfortable. The premise instantly hooked me: Jane Sharp, a college student reeling from the death of her father, becomes consumed by online true crime communities. Her descent into obsession feels painfully relatable for anyone who’s ever lost themselves in a quest for distraction. When a chilling triple murder in Delphine, Idaho, captures the world’s attention, Jane and her group of amateur internet detective friends dive headfirst into the case, determined to crack the mystery before anyone else.

At first, I was completely absorbed. Winstead captures the allure of true crime obsession with precision. While I did read some forums and Reddit posts on cases I was interested in, I never got to “armchair detective” status. Some of those people were intense! In this book, Winstead focuses heavily on this culture – with these characters, it’s not just about solving mysteries but about connection, purpose, and, sometimes, a desperate need for control in an uncontrollable world. I appreciated how the book didn’t shy away from examining the darker side of that obsession: how it can exploit victims’ families, how it feeds off real pain, and how easy it is for people to lose themselves in the chase for “justice.” In that sense, the book felt like a sharp, timely commentary on the true crime phenomenon that’s exploded in recent years.

However, as much as I wanted to love this book, my feelings remained mixed as the story unfolded. The initial setup was compelling, but the deeper I got into the plot, the more it began to feel eerily familiar – almost too familiar. The parallels to the real-life University of Idaho murders were hard to ignore, and while true crime fiction often draws from reality, it felt unsettling here. The fictionalization of a recent, deeply traumatic event felt borderline exploitative at times, especially considering how fresh that tragedy still feels. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was too soon for a story so clearly inspired by real events.

Another issue that took away from my enjoyment was the book’s pacing and structure. Winstead’s writing shines when she explores the psychological toll of true crime obsession or the ethical dilemmas faced by amateur detectives. But the constant use of cliffhangers – especially the repetitive reminder that the narrator had made “mistakes” and was being “wrongfully accused” – became exhausting. Nearly every chapter ended with this heavy-handed hint, which quickly felt like the author didn’t trust readers to stay invested without constant reminders of looming disaster. It pulled me out of the story instead of drawing me deeper into the mystery.

The ending also left me frustrated. What started as a layered, thought-provoking narrative became overly tangled, with too many threads trying to tie themselves up neatly. Sometimes, the beauty of a good thriller lies in ambiguity and letting the messiness linger. Here, it felt like the book was trying too hard to deliver justice and a clean conclusion, and in doing so, it lost some of the sharp commentary that made the beginning so strong.

That said, there’s still a lot to enjoy here. Despite figuring out the killer early on, I remained invested in Jane’s journey. Her voice felt authentic, and her internal struggles were some of the most compelling parts of the novel. I also really liked her fellow armchair detectives and the sense of family they built. Their connection was really sweet. I also liked that, throughout the book, Winstead raises important questions: Why are we so fascinated by violence? What’s the cost of that fascination? And at what point does seeking justice turn into exploitation?

In the end, this book mirrored my complicated feelings about true crime itself. It was gripping and thought-provoking but also unsettling and, at times, uncomfortable for reasons that might have been unintentional. While I didn’t love it, I can’t deny that it made me think – and maybe that’s the mark of a worthwhile read.