In the first few pages of the book, one of the characters faces two armed home intruders and manages to kill one and incapacitate the other with a hammer. In her underwear.
Ladies and gentelemen, meet Lena Adams, professional tough cookie, habitual fuck-up, sourpuss extraordinaire.
Also: yes, Slaughter is the author’s real name and yes, it’s that kind of book.
Unseen is the seventh installment of Slaughter’s Will Trent series, and it shows; there is a lot of backstory between the main characters, and though some explanation is provided, you’re better off reading this one if you’ve read most of the previous installments. The plot, in short: GBI agent Will Trent is working a case that has him posing as Bill Black, motorcycle-riding ex-con lowlife in the city of Macon, GA. His cover is beginning to look promising, but Will feels lonely and cut off from his lover, doctor Sara Linton. Then, Will is involved in a home invasion that nearly kills Jared, Lena’s husband, Sara’s stepson. Sara, meanwhile, holds Lena responsible; she sees Lena as a trouble magnet and she does her utmost to have Lena apprehended. Will knows more but can’t tell her, and he fears he will lose Sara.
The book has a particular kind of plot twist that some people will like and others will hate. I didn’t mind it so much, but I can see why people find it frustrating. It hardly matters anyway; the novel is clearly meant as a big showdown between Sara and Lena, who have a long history of mutual animosity. After years of mutual resentment, misconceptions and outright hatred, things finally come to a head. As a thriller, the novel sort-of works; as a conclusion to a ten-book long conflict: HOO BOY.
Maybe it’s the fact that Slaughter has spent over a decade constructing these characters that I liked it so much; as a reader, I’ve invested plenty of time in their stories, and you see why Sara feels about Lena the way she does, and vice versa. The book spends some time toying with Sara’s less-than-charitable image of Lena versus reality. Sara holds Lena responsible for her husband’s death and, to a degree, so does Lena herself, but their dislike is never only about that. These are two strong women with two very different characters, and, barring their mutual history, it’s very simple: they just don’t get along. Sara is educated, occasionally goofy, very serious, somewhat arrogant, and with a clear moral compass. She hails from a fairly wealthy and tight-knit family, she’s well-educated and well-liked. Lena, on the other hand, is an orphan, too dark-skinned to be white trash but not far off, raised by her addict uncle in a backwater town. She’s smart but lacks a formal education, and the constant mishaps Sara blames her for are partly of her own making, partly bad luck. Lena doesn’t consider herself to be a very good person and, in truth, she isn’t always, nor does she make the best decisions for herself. As a character, she’s a million times more interesting than Sara, whose bland doctor-come-forensic-examiner can be found in hundreds of thrillers. Seeing Lena bring out Sara’s bad side actually makes her far more interesting. Lena herself, meanwhile, is just a really great character. She’s tough as nails but vulnerable at the same time. She’s an excellent liar but emotionally stunted, prickly and acerbic. She worries a lot about being a good person. She’s as good at getting herself out of a mess as she is getting into one, which is why a lot of Slaughter’s die-hard fan-base seems to hate her with a fiery passion. More interestingly, she grows. As the series progresses, she becomes less impulsives, less reckless, more cunning, but also more at ease with herself, more skilled at handling conflicts and setbacks.
There is a rather spectacular scene in the middle of Unseen where Sara and Lena finally have their big confrontation. True to character, Sara does a lot of pearl-clutching and Lena is viciously relentless. It’s a nasty scene but also, in many ways, a very satisfying one. The denouement, meanwhile, brings closure; it’s a somewhat sappy ending, but not a bad one.
A common criticism on crime fiction is its overreliance on rape as a plot device and Slaughter is no less – and probably more – guilty here than most, but what sets her apart is that the after-effects of rape are highlighted. Lena suffers through terrible trauma at the very beginning of the series, and as the story progresses we see her implode spectacularly into a whirl of self-destructive tendencies, then slowly climb out of the hole and heal. She’s full of fear and heart, and she’s utterly credible. It’s also why I’ve never quite understood what she’s doing in these books because she’s far more tangible than everyone else, but nevertheless, Slaughter deserves all the credits she can get for this. If you’re going to tackle a tricky subject like rape, at least do it the right way.
As a standalone: **1/2
As part of a series: *****