At the end of a dead-end road, on the edge of a wild Washington forest, stands a boarded-up house. Inside lives Ted Bannerman — unemployed, forgetful, quietly strange — along with a daughter who is never allowed outside and a devout house cat named Olivia who believes it is her sacred duty to protect him. Ted knows the neighbours think the worst of him. He also knows there are gaps in his memory he would rather not examine.
Then Dee moves into the empty house next door. Years earlier, her little sister vanished from a nearby lake, and Dee has never stopped searching. She is certain Ted knows something. As she watches him, and as the narrative shifts between Ted, Olivia, and Dee, the reader is pulled into a story where nothing is stable and no account can be trusted.
Catriona Ward's genre-bending psychological horror is a masterclass in misdirection — unbearably tense, deeply unsettling, and built around a structure that reveals itself only piece by piece. To say much more would spoil it; part of its power is how completely it upends what you think you understand.