THE DEAD GIRLS CLUB

Dark secrets haunt a guilt-stricken child psychologist in this twisty supernatural thriller.

When somebody mails Dr. Heather Cole one tarnished half of a heart-shaped "best friends" necklace, she panics; the last time she saw this particular bit of jewelry, she was 12, and it was hanging around the neck of her dead BFF, Becca Thomas. Heather tells herself that nobody could know she killed Becca—the girls were alone when it happened, Becca’s body was never found, and Becca’s drunken and abusive mother, Lauren, served time for the murder. Then more overt threats follow, prompting Heather to fixate on identifying her tormenter at the expense of her marriage, her career, and her sanity. Flashbacks to the summer of 1991 stud Heather’s first-person, present-tense narrative, chronicling the formation of the Dead Girls Club, whose members gather to read true-crime books and share scary stories; the deterioration of Heather and Becca’s relationship; and Becca’s growing obsession with a vengeful spirit called the Red Lady. Although Walters (Cry Your Way Home, 2018, etc.) offers knowing nods to Slender Man, The Shining, and The Turn of the Screw, her own attempt at a terror-filled tale of adolescent trauma falls flat. Manufactured conflict, preposterous plotting, and characters lacking in complexity and verisimilitude sap drama and tension while the half-baked legend of the Red Lady fails to frighten. Stilted dialogue and bloated prose further frustrate the pacing and drive.

A sterile, shrugworthy take on long-form horror from acclaimed short-fiction writer Walters.