I enjoyed this thriller. The main narrator (of three) is Rachel, a depressed alcoholic. She is the prototypical unreliable narrator. I liked hearing the story through her voice, as she agonized over the nights that she couldn't remember due to alcoholic blackouts. Ultimately, Rachel was able to piece together the shards and solve a murder.
There was one quotation that moved me.
"I don't know. I don't know where that strength went. I don't remember losing it.
I think that over time it got chipped away, bit by bit, by life, by the living of it."
I like that I guessed who the killer was. It was no brilliant deduction worthy of Sherlock Holmes. Instead, it was hmm, that person is sketchy and could be the murderer.
Pat myself on the back, anyway.
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