In early 1980s small town America, a faith-focused community is dangled over the precipice of terror by a rash of abducted and missing children, who are later discovered dead and profanely desecrated, if they are found at all. Curfews are enacted by local law enforcement and rumored stains of the Satanic Panic swirl about whispered exchanges, hushed and huddled.

The tale is told from the point of view of the youngest of four daughters, and captures beautifully the fear and limited scope that would be held by someone from that age group during that time. The names of these siblings rattle off like a strand of gemstones and flowers, woven tightly and with great skill.

The title asks a simple, yet valid question that repeats time and again as the liquidity of motive and truth shift throughout the narrative.

I enjoyed the exploration of another question, just how far will people go to protect the ones we love? How some boundaries become more elastic than others.

The pacing and voice is superb. I would not be surprised to see this novel attain much greater fate and acknowledgement than what meager words of praise can be offered here. I greatly anticipate an upcoming interview with the author, Laura Lee Bahr.

A companion read that I recommend:
Follow this one with “Letters to the Purple Satin Killer,” by Joshua Chaplinsky. That’d be a great way to round off your Hot Girl Summer of Crime Book Club.

I don’t think my library would welcome that discussion group, but I could always be wrong.