One of the best—and most shocking—narratives of revenge I’ve ever encountered, and one that even saves room for a bit of humor. Cyra’s younger sister Mira has been murdered, apparently by a serial killer. It’s been over a month, and Cyra has grown increasingly frustrated at the tepid response from the New York Police Department: “Let us do our jobs.” Since Mira died, nearly everything—Cyra’s job, her relationship with her ex-girlfriend, the small group of friends she and Mira share, her apartment in Queens—is rapidly unraveling. Big sister Cyra has always taken care of Mira, and if she couldn’t stop Mira from being murdered, at least she can find her murderer. With some help from a friend, Cyra learns about a self-help group for serial killers—kind of funny, kind of not—and successfully infiltrates the group, creating a persona as a murderer. She claims to work in a nursing home, preying on the elderly, and manages to convince the guys (yes, it’s an all boy’s club) to let her join their group. Her goal? To learn if any of the members murdered Mira, or at least knows who did. But creating an identity as a serial killer has its own unanticipated consequences, and the more involved Cyra becomes in the support group, the more she finds her old self slipping away. Schaefer’s story is dark and twisted, unique, and totally engrossing. Readers who enjoy this book may also appreciate Oyinkan Braithwaite’s My Sister, the Serial Killer and Peter Swanson’s A Talent for Murder.
