Early in The Turnout, the beautifully dark suspense novel from bestselling author Megan Abbott (Dare Me), readers will sense that all is not right in the Durant School of Dance, a prestigious yet moldering ballet studio.

It’s “Nutcracker” season, and the holiday staple brings in the bulk of the annual revenue for the school, which is run by the Durant sisters, Dara and Marie, and Dara’s husband, Charlie. Emotions are running high in the days leading up to the announcement of who will play Clara—the most coveted role but also the one that makes the dancer the target of cruel jealousy from both students and parents.

Marie, who had been living with Dara and Charlie ever since the sudden death of the sisters’ parents, has recently set up camp in the attic above the studio. A fire from her space heater leaves part of the studio in ruins, and a possibly shady contractor comes on board to help with renovations. The future of the studio is in jeopardy, forcing the sisters to revisit their traumatic childhood as they decide whether the Durant School is worth saving.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Megan Abbott on her fixation with ballet.

The Turnout submerses readers in the obsessive, toxic world of competitive ballet. Abbott perfectly describes the unique smells and atmosphere of a dance studio: a mix of sweat, vomit and hormones. She unsettlingly juxtaposes a sport that requires astonishing levels of discipline with the sugary sweet story of “The Nutcracker.” “Consider the exquisite torture of all those little girls never allowed to eat dancing as costumed Sugar Plums, as fat Bonbons gushing cherry slicks. Tutus like ribbon candy, boys spinning great hoops of peppermint, and everywhere black slathers of licorice and marzipan glistening like snow.”

Abbott layers dread and darkness as readers learn about the harrowing family home that shaped Dara and Marie and pulled Charlie into their lives. Virtually no one is who they seem, and Abbott keeps the twists coming until the final pages. The Turnout is the kind of gripping, unnerving page turner we have come to expect from an author who does noir better than almost anyone.

With twists worthy of a season finale of “Law & Order: SVU,” The Damage explores a family’s struggle in the aftermath of a sexual assault.

College student Nick Hall meets a handsome stranger in a bar and leaves with him for a one-night stand, only to find himself the victim of a violent attack. Hospitalized and in shock, Nick turns to his much older brother, Tony, for support. Tony and his wife, Julia, have always been parental figures to Nick, and they find themselves reeling from the reality of his rape.

Overwhelmed by shame and trauma, Nick sinks into a suicidal depression while Tony, desperate for a sense of control and justice, turns his rage toward the man arrested for attacking Nick. Julia, a former defense attorney, sees her family fracturing and realizes she must go to extreme lengths to save them all.

Unlike a traditional mystery, we know who Nick’s attacker is within the first few chapters. The real mystery in The Damage is what happens after the assault. The book jumps between the months after the 2015 attack to 2019, when the detective assigned to the case, now facing a terminal diagnosis, looks for answers as to what really happened in the aftermath. The man suspected of Nick’s attack has long since vanished, and the detective believes Julia may know the truth.

The Damage stands out for its depiction of the still taboo subject of male rape. Female sexual assault victims are commonplace in thrillers, but there is still a stigma surrounding male victims of sexual violence. Nick is aware of this stigma, and we see him work through the toxic shame surrounding his attack as he struggles to accept that he was not at fault for what happened to him.

This study of a family in crisis is empathetic and never gratuitous, but still doesn’t shy away from the realities of sexual violence. The Damage carefully and expertly captures the collective trauma of a close-knit family when one of its members is victimized, and the lengths to which they’ll go to find justice and healing.

It’s not uncommon for neighbors or co-workers to consider themselves family, and in bestselling author Megan Miranda’s Such a Quiet Place, the residents of Hollow’s Edge feel that pressure from both sides. A picturesque community of close-set homes, Hollow’s Edge is mainly populated by employees of the nearby College of Lake Hollow. But something malevolent lurks beneath the community’s pretty surface, and close bonds are frayed, even broken, in the wake of a shocking murder.

It’s been 18 months since Brandon and Fiona Truett were found dead, and 14 months since Ruby Fletcher was convicted of the crime. The community heaved a collective sigh of relief when she began her 20-year prison sentence, but as the book opens, they’re gasping in righteous horror. Ruby’s conviction was overturned, and she’s back in Hollow’s Edge, charismatic as ever and with a vengeful gleam in her eye.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Why Megan Miranda is always drawn to dark, deep woods.

After all, despite the neighborhood watch, security cameras and homeowners association message board, somebody killed the Truetts. The neighbors, convinced it was Ruby, testified against her. Only her housemate, narrator Harper Nash, seems open to the possibility that it wasn’t Ruby—and even she’s not 100% sure. But what if Ruby really didn’t do it? Who among them is the actual killer? The residents of Hollow’s Edge face a highly disturbing and dangerous state of affairs, no matter how you look at it.

Playing with perspective is a Miranda specialty, and she does so spectacularly in Such a Quiet Place, exploring how speculation can transform from idle entertainment to actual condemnation. She also touches on a favored theme of manipulative friendships, as Harper’s persistent self-doubt and empathetic nature leave her vulnerable, coloring her worldview and behavior toward Ruby. But Harper is determined to suss out the truth, and readers will enjoy riding along as she tempts fate via some daring amateur sleuthing around the woods, lake and streets of Hollow’s Edge.

Miranda has created a claustrophobic and suspenseful whodunit—a pressure cooker brimming with a host of plausible suspects, toxic HOA groupthink and plenty of finger-pointing among supposed friends—that ponders the eternal question of how well we really know those closest to us.

A year after his acclaimed bestseller, Blacktop Wasteland, S.A. Cosby returns with the equally gripping but more complex Razorblade Tears. Set in rural and urban Virginia, the story centers on the thorny partnership between ex-convicts Ike, who is Black, and Buddy Lee, who is white. The duo is drawn together by the unfathomable murder of their sons, Isiah and Derek, a married couple who lived a relatively innocuous life. Fueled by law enforcement’s lack of interest in solving the case, as well as by their own personal guilt, Ike and Buddy Lee set off to uncover who killed their sons and unleash their own brand of vigilante justice.

Razorblade Tears is simultaneously a contemplative mystery and a stunning thrill ride. A master of his craft, Cosby balances incredibly complicated characters with enveloping suspense and some of the most captivatingly violent scenes that you will ever read. At the same time, Razorblade Tears features poignant, purposeful social commentary as Cosby takes a critical yet sensitive look at homophobia, racism, classicism and toxic masculinity. Ike and Buddy Lee’s quest puts their lives at risk but also challenges their senses of self and understanding of the world. Their self-interrogation and personal transformation prompt readers to examine their own sociopolitical standpoints.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: S.A. Cosby on writing the literary blues.

Cosby’s writing is both fearless and sympathetic, exhibiting his formidable intellect alongside vivid imagery, sharp wit and intricate plot lines. Razorblade Tears transcends genre boundaries and is a must-read for anyone looking for a mystery that provokes and thrills in equal measure.

Chris Bohjalian (The Guest Room) blends historical fiction with a thrilling courtroom drama in his latest novel, Hour of the Witch. Its narrator’s unique voice and perspective make this a fascinating and immersive read.

Mary Deerfield is a young Puritan woman who lives in Boston in 1662 and whose faith guides every aspect of her life. She’s constantly watching for signs—from both God and the devil. When her husband Thomas' physical abuse becomes too much to bear, she breaks from tradition and makes an unprecedented request to be granted a divorce on the grounds of cruelty. Mary’s decision to assert herself rather than submit to the will of her husband and the Church causes a cascade of unexpected events, the most terrifying of which is Mary being accused of witchcraft, a charge that could lead to her execution.

The themes in Hour of the Witch are universal: A young woman seeks to escape her husband's abuse and also the patriarchal culture that allows such abuse to persist. By demanding to be released from her marriage, Mary faces judgement that victims of violence from intimate partners still experience today. What makes this novel remarkable and compulsively readable is Bohjalian’s uncanny ability to capture the Puritan perspective. Mary’s manner of thinking is heavily informed by her religion and also by superstition; ultimately, she must break away from those structures in order to survive.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Chris Bohjalian explores the eerie similarities between the Puritans' time and our own.

As Mary’s community searches for supernatural evil and analyzes her every action for signs of witchcraft, true evil, in the form of Thomas’ abuse, is allowed to flourish due to his standing in the community. The reader will acutely feel Mary’s justifiable paranoia as she becomes the scapegoat for all of her community’s woes. Her fear of both Thomas and the people she is supposed to be able to trust make the tension in this novel almost claustrophobic.

Hour of the Witch is at once brilliantly idiosyncratic while also recognizable. This genre-defying thriller is sure to become a staple of book clubs and a favorite of historical mystery fans.

In Caroline Kepnes’ third You novel, Joe Goldberg is ready to settle down. Volunteering at a library on Bainbridge Island, he’s keeping things squeaky clean while also falling in love with his boss, Mary Kay. Her social and family ties distract her from Joe—the real thing, staring her in the face across the circulation desk—but this time, he’s committed to doing no harm. If he gently thumbs the scales of justice (and true love) in his favor, surely that will be OK, right? Of course, this new beginning is dogged by loose ends from his last known address that refuse to be neatly tied off.

You Love Me is a wild ride, full of twists and slapstick gore. It's also a metatext in some ways. Joe’s obsession with Mary Kay is true to what we know of him, and his interior monologue full of TV, music, film and book references make him a compelling antihero. Mary Kay’s relationship with a rocker from the heyday of Seattle’s grunge scene feels realistic, while her female friends are more like caricatures, overdrawn in a way that’s often hilarious. A plot thread featuring a screenplay based on Joe’s life is both a callback to Hidden Bodies and a wink at the Netflix series based on the books.

Kepnes makes Joe compelling in a way that allows for some brilliant sleight of hand. Surprises seem to come from out of nowhere, and the end is truly shocking, yet there’s a relaxed flow as it all unfolds. You Love Me is more broadly funny than You; Joe’s restraint from violence does not mean the body count is low, and some of the deaths are, to put it mildly, absolutely bonkers. The reader has to wrestle with a character who is charming, funny, well read, accommodating to a fault—and also a monster. Start here if you like, but be prepared to read the whole series. It will really get under your skin.

Freya Lyell is apprehensive about attending a wedding on the grounds of Byrne Hall; her sister Stella’s body was found not far away, and that loss still stings five years later. But when she sees a painting hanging in the main house that surely must be of Stella, her curiosity takes over. She returns to Byrne Hall alone and is rapidly absorbed into the world of Cory Byrne, his ailing mother, Diana, and the house itself, which is eerily attuned to its occupants.

The Whispering House is a gothic mystery whose ethereal tone and atmospheric detail allow it to step lightly between heavy revelations. Author Elizabeth Brooks (The Orphan of Salt Winds) establishes early on that Freya is still submerged in grief and guilt over her sister’s presumed suicide, despite the fact that many of her memories of Stella are of an impulsive young woman whose demands for attention tended to eclipse the rest of the family altogether.

Amid this grief, Freya’s numb quality makes her passive involvement with Cory, and her half-formed ideas of what their life together might be, poignant as well as also a great source of tension for the reader as more information about the house and its history come to light. It’s an odd feeling, being happy for Freya while also internally screaming for her to get out while she can.

As the story unfolds from varied points of view and different time periods, Diana’s role shifts from one at the fringes to something more central and frightening. She’s a matriarch to be reckoned with, to put it mildly. Peripheral characters—Freya’s father, a woman she meets while swimming, a man she loves but thinks she lost to Stella—are well rounded and figure into the plot in intricate ways.

Brooks’ gentle, depressive pace allows The Whispering House’s revelations to be truly shocking—the fallout from a missed phone call can feel as though the world hangs in the balance.

Windsor Horne Lockwood III has a charmed life: he’s a handsome, highly intelligent white man with access to immense generational wealth.

But every rose has its thorn, and in Harlan Coben’s suspenseful and oft-surprising Win, the rakish titular character explains that he has long had to contend with negative assumptions due to his name, slight frame and regal bearing. Even this is an advantage, however: It’s caused him to cultivate exceptional combat skills (those who underestimate him soon regret it, often from a hospital bed). This has made him an excellent sidekick to Myron Bolitar, the sports agent-turned-investigator at the forefront of 11 of Coben’s novels thus far. 

With Win, the author is trying something completely different. For the first time since readers met Win in 1995, the “preternaturally overconfident” sidekick emerges from the shadows to take center stage. His origin story is a departure from Coben’s Bolitar-universe narrative norm, one that readers will find intriguing thanks to a voice that is less open and more calculating, bolstered by a largely misanthropic worldview.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Harlan Coben reveals why he finally let Win step into the spotlight.

And Win’s got a lot to say, whether regarding his hedonistic pursuits or why the FBI thinks he knows something about a bizarre murder scene at a wealthy loner’s Manhattan penthouse. The FBI isn’t surprised Win doesn’t know the man, but are curious about two things found near him: a Vermeer painting stolen from the Lockwood family, and a suitcase bearing Win’s initials. 

The last time Win saw these items was 20 years prior, around the time his cousin Patricia was kidnapped and held prisoner at an isolated cabin. She escaped, but the case was never solved. Now, it seems this new murder victim was not only connected to Patricia’s terrifying ordeal, but to domestic terrorists who committed multiple as-yet-unsolved crimes 40 years ago.

Ever the investigator, Win delves into the past and casts a critical eye on the present, using his wits and wealth to gain access and information. Coben, as is his wont, raises moral dilemmas readers will enjoy chewing on and pulse-pounding action scenes will keep the pages at least semi-frantically turning. As lies are challenged, secrets are revealed and seemingly impossible decisions made, Win makes it clear that “Life is lived in the grays.”

Author Paul Vidich has once again proved his mastery of the espionage thriller with his edge-of-your-seat novel The Mercenary, which marks Vidich's fourth foray into the world of spies and intrigue.

Former CIA agent Aleksander Garin is recruited to help a senior KGB operative, known by the code name GAMBIT, escape from Moscow to Czechoslovakia. But there is a catch: He must also smuggle out GAMBIT’s wife and son.

To prove his worth and earn his freedom, GAMBIT is tasked with smuggling top-secret communiqués and papers to Garin. With the watchful eyes of the KGB and Russian loyalists all around him, the job is fraught with danger. As Vidich writes, “The lies had been harder to keep up, and he’d struggled to keep the layers of deception straight, knowing that a single mistake could be fatal.”

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Paul Vidich shares why he thinks the Cold War continues to fascinate readers.

When Garin becomes romantically interested in former Russian ballerina Natalya, who now works for the KGB, the risks multiply exponentially. Garin struggles with whom he can trust, including his contacts at the American Embassy, who have their own suspicions about Garin's loyalties and about his handler, CIA Station Chief George Mueller, who was previously expelled from Russia after a failed mission.

The Mercenary is fast paced and action packed, but Vidich lingers long enough to allow readers to experience Garin’s emotional highs and lows. In that regard, the novel deservedly draws comparisons to John le Carré’s tales of the intrepid spy George Smiley.

Amy Gentry’s new novel Bad Habits is so much fun to read that it feels like you’re cheating somehow. It’s got the perfect setting—a prestigious and pretentious grad school program ominously referred to as The Program, where students and professors misbehave outrageously. And the friendship at its heart detonates a series of double-crosses and revelations that are breathtaking and sometimes hilarious. How can one book be so unrelenting in its sense of unease, yet also so much fun?

Academic rock star Claire “Mac” Woods has just given a keynote address when she spies Gwen, her former best friend from grad school, at the hotel bar. It’s a prickly reunion, doused in alcohol, and Claire awakens from a blackout thinking she’s confessed a long-held secret. Said secret, and the story behind it, comes out in flashbacks as Claire hunts for Gwen (and I do mean hunts) inside the hotel. What unspools is a tale of class disparity, friendship, competition, infidelity and the variable exchange rates of sex and power. It’s a knockout.

Gentry’s light touch with such high-stakes subject matter is impressive. The program Gwen and Claire (who then went primarily by “Mac”) attended is rich in details that feel true to a university experience, even as the novel skewers how how much of that experience is artifice or make-believe. Several storylines tug at the reader’s attention, but Gentry continually reminds us of what we don’t yet know with a refrain that is jarring each time it reappears: “The accident. The farmhouse.” The misdirection pays off each time because we’re so invested in this fragile, fractured relationship.

If you liked Good as Gone, Gentry’s debut novel, Bad Habits has a theme in common with it: Sometimes the biggest surprises stem from a truth that was staring you in the face all along. Read Bad Habits for a satirically surreal take on higher education, and for an antihero you’ll lose sleep over.

When homesteader Dell Reddick Sr. decides to purchase a headstone for the son he lost 17 years ago, painful memories among his family members set into motion a series of events he could never have predicted. Swept up in the family ordeal is Deputy Sheriff Harley Jensen, who may be the only one who can restore the peace—if his own passions for one of the family don’t get in the way. Chris Harding Thornton unravels the intrigue and suspense in meticulously detailed fashion in her solid debut novel, Pickard County Atlas.

Set in 1978, the story takes place in the titular rural Nebraska county, where large tracts of farmland have been named after the people who lived there. Homesteads—many of which have folded or been abandoned—stretch over hundreds of acres, a detail which Thornton cannily uses to evoke the isolation and lonely frustration that bears down upon the remaining residents.

Harley is initially called to investigate a series of unusual thefts of clothing and other items from the homes of the recently deceased, as well as evidence of trespassing at other abandoned homes. One such excursion brings him in contact with Paul Reddick, the younger brother of Dell Jr., whose body was never found after he was killed in 1960 by Korean War veteran Rollie Asher.

Paul is no stranger to the law, as he has been in and out of jail on drug-related charges. Harley tries to go easy on him, knowing the trauma that Paul and his family have experienced. But when it becomes clear that both Paul and Harley are attracted to Paul’s older brother Rick’s wife, Pam, events build toward a confrontation for which neither is prepared.

Pickard County Atlas takes its time; there is no real sense of urgency or high stakes confronting Harley or any of the other characters. The closest thing to a central mystery is the weird series of thefts and break-ins. But Thornton, herself a seventh-generation Nebraskan, describes the landscape and interactions of the characters in such starkly realistic detail, you cannot help but get wrapped up in the novel’s noirish atmosphere and slow-burning mystery.

Riley Wolfe excels at what he does: elaborate, improbable, dangerous, lucrative art heists. He knows he’s the best, and he gets a substantial thrill out of accomplishing the seemingly impossible with flair and rough justice. As he explains in Jeff Lindsay’s Fool Me Twice, “It’s what I live for—grabbing stuff from people too rich and privileged to deserve it.”

Of course, Riley’s illicit activities make him very wealthy, which is quite helpful for establishing secret hideaways, paying subcontractors to assist him in his schemes and ensuring his beloved mother (who is in a persistent vegetative state) is well cared for. All of these elements come into play in Lindsay’s second Riley Wolfe novel (the first is 2019’s Just Watch Me), as a dizzying chain of betrayals, threats, double-crosses and misdirections add up to a wild international caper that’s at once nerve-wracking and fascinating in its extreme peril and layered complexity.

Riley’s newest boss, Patrick Boniface, is an arms dealer known for his ruthlessness—which pales compared to what his sidekick, torture aficionado Bernadette, likes to do for fun. Boniface informs Riley that he can either be Bernadette’s ill-fated plaything, or steal Raphael’s "The Liberation of St. Peter" . . . which is, unfortunately, a fresco that is part of a wall at the Vatican. It gets worse: A rival crime boss tells Riley that, if he doesn’t double-cross Boniface, Monique (the world’s best art forger and Riley’s quasi-romantic interest) will come to great harm. And, as is not uncommon with world-famous art thieves, there’s also an FBI agent determined to capture him once and for all.

At first, Riley is completely nonplussed; stealing a wall doesn’t happen to be within his expertise. But inspiration does strike, and Lindsay does an excellent job of building toward the solution via masterful feats of planning, costuming, social engineering and a well-placed felony (or several). Readers travel to various spots around the globe as Riley races to complete the job, protect his loved ones and live to steal another day. This frequently funny, always inventive, often quite dark thriller will delight fans of Lindsay’s bestselling Dexter series and the hit TV show it inspired.