THE WICKED SISTER

Fifteen years ago, Rachel Cunningham killed her parents. Or so she thought.

Rachel was only 11 when she shot her mother, watched her father turn his rifle on himself in their remote hunting lodge on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, and then was found catatonic after having disappeared into the deep woods for two weeks. Now 26, she’s been in and out of psychiatric institutions, unable to come to terms with her terrible deed. The world thinks her father killed her mother, then himself: Rachel confessed, but no one believed her. One day, Trevor, an aspiring journalist, sits down with Rachel so she can tell her story and hopefully clear her father’s name. Then she plans to take her own life. But when Rachel catches a glimpse of the police report that says there's no way she could have fired that rifle, she questions everything she thought she knew about that day, and the gaps in her memory take on an even more ominous hue. She checks herself out of the hospital, calls Trevor for a ride, and heads back to the lodge, where her older sister, Diana, and her aunt, Charlotte, have lived for years. Choosing to hide out in the lodge rather than reveal herself, Rachel searches for clues about her parents’ deaths and soon realizes that Diana, and their complicated relationship, may hold the key to everything. Interspersed with Rachel’s present-day narrative, her mother, Jenny, who was a wildlife biologist along with Rachel’s father, Peter, details the years leading up to her death and the distressing events that marked their otherwise idyllic existence. Dionne has her locale down pat: It doesn’t get much creepier than a huge lodge filled with taxidermic animals where cell signals are scarce and dangers lurk in the surrounding woods. The characters lack nuance, though, and Dionne tends to clearly telegraph upcoming plot twists. Further, the book’s true villain does everything short of mustache twirling, and it’s not quite clear if readers should take Rachel’s earnest claim that she can talk to animals seriously. In the end, it’s all just a bit too much.

A melodramatic, ultimately disappointing endeavor.