I want to know what the author was smoking when she wrote this.

This book exploits the other favourite of thrillers to explain memory gaps – head injury and PTSD.

SUCH LAZY WRITING.

While also being supremely secretive about a trivial incident that occured about 10 years ago; which, when revealed, has you wondering what the hell the fuss is all about.

There are going to be spoilers ahead, you’ve been warned.

The book led me to believe that the house was of supreme importance. I don’t know if that effect was intended, but half the thriller-element in this book came from the fact that there was an unknown factor. An unseen presence, looming in the dark. There wasn’t.

And while you are sitting there waiting for something to happen, a nice lovely murder takes place, in the dark, gun held by more than one person. Confusing, yes. But interesting? Not really. At that point, I didn’t even care who killed the guy, probably wouldn’t have cared if the book had killed off another person as well. Oh, wait. It did. And I didn’t care then either.

The plot seems to hang on a few very thin threads, almost cobwebs. What if she had declined the invitation? How did two girls, in the dark, manage to perfectly aim a large weapon at an intruder and actually mortally injure him? Here’s a thought, what if they missed? And, for the life of me,I don’t understand…why the hell would you go running in the middle of an unknown forest without your stupid cell phone? Why was Flo so obsessed with Clare? That was probably the only question I wanted answered,  and that was conveniently left out. A patient (who is currently a murder suspect, probably has PTSD, and a significant head injury) just ups and walks out of a hospital to hail a cab. The cab then proceeds to drop this very obviously sick woman in a cabin in the middle of the wood that had police tape on it. The woman is soon joined by another woman who probably has more
injuries than the first one (considering the fact that she had also been in the same hospital, only sicker than the first girl just that morning), and she proceeds to…make coffee.

Knowing full well she is the killer, Leonora accepts the drink and drinks it all as well, while listening to the story of how her best friend killed her ex-boyfriend.

Disappointing development of story that had a lot of potential.

It looks like the author forgot she was writing a novel for people who possess even half a brain.

I read it, so the joke is on me.

The title is appropriate, though, because that is exactly the place you should bury this book in case you ever come across a copy. Or, you know, use it for a fire.