Like the sprawling, dusty Victorian house—filled with trick panels and closets—Ava’s past is shrouded in untold secrets and bitterly guarded truths. Who was her birth mother, and what happened to her? Why was baby Ava left alone in the sanctuary of a Catholic church? I felt as though I were right beside Ava as she digs through the house, searching for answers.
Her family’s history of revenge and betrayals slowly unravels as she unearths more evidence, starting with the mysterious Polaroids. The snapshots convey a small—but vivid—part of Ava’s background. The images were captured by a murderer, but it’s not until Ava pieces them together that she understands the scope of her mother’s story. And eventually, her own.
In this twisted novel, nothing is as it seems. If you are anything like me, you will binge-read this engrossing book in one night, and perhaps look in your parents’ closets the next time you visit. You may find a few secrets, but hopefully no skeletons. Literal or otherwise.
- Liz Pearsons, Editor