Mystery Thriller

A dying serial killer agrees to be interviewed for a streaming docuseries and says, on camera, that he murdered four women in the summer of 2001. Not five. Four. In a small Washington town, two women who have not spoken in twenty-five years understand immediately what that means.

Ten years after the trivia night, a severed finger arrives at Pirriwee High in the morning post, and the Year 10 parents discover they have no idea what their children have been doing. Moriarty's sequel is very funny, genuinely angry, and at its best when the teenagers are talking.

A woman reads the right-hand half of a name badge and spends ten minutes certain the hospital has sent a man to assault her. The badge says occupational therapist. Freida McFadden's early novel is written from inside a brain that cannot perceive its own left side, and the thing it cannot perceive is the thing that was done to it.

A grandfather clock in a 1660 house stops every night at 3:41. Nobody can fix it, and nobody will explain it. Freida McFadden's dual-timeline thriller runs a 1692 witchcraft trial alongside a present-day haunting, and the second reveal turns on an object you have been staring at since chapter four.

Jazz Bashara checks her bank balance every day like it might have grown on its own. She needs 416,922 slugs. Not four hundred thousand, not half a million. That precise figure. She will not tell anyone why, and the answer, when it finally arrives, is the best thing in the book.