Books like The Shadow Box — picked by fans

When it comes to Constance Greene, I hardly know where to begin.

She’s certainly the oldest and most deadly character in fiction writing today. I say she’s the oldest because she’s trapped in the body of a thirty-something-year-old woman even though she was born in 1873, long story.

She appears as a supporting character in multiple novels, as the love interest of Detective Aloysius Pendergast, but she is so much more than that. She’s eloquent, brilliant, and does not succumb to emotional distress under any threat of death.

In Blue Labyrinth, eight highly trained mercenaries pursue her and none of them live to tell the tale. At her most ruthless, she can kill with any tool at her disposal and she is loyal to the man she loves.

If you haven’t read the King and Maxwell series by Baldacci, you’re doing yourself a disservice.

Michelle Maxwell is the first one to run into a burning building and take it all in stride even if she runs out with her hair on fire. Michelle is the character that brings a new twist to the opposite cops who join together to solve the case genre. 

Michelle Maxwell never holds back, does not suffer fools and she’s deadly with a gun as well as her hands. She always speaks her mind to men in authority, which I think bends some male readers out of shape, but I love her go forth and conquer spirit. Michelle lives by the edict: “Let the bridges I burn light my way,” and she is fine with that.

The resilience of the protagonist, FBI Special Agent Nina Guerrera, dubbed the "Warrior Girl" by the media really drew me in.

She’s the only person to ever survive a horrifying encounter with a serial killer called the Cipher when she was a teenager. This terrible attack molds her into the ultimate protector for those who can’t save themselves. Nina tugs at your heartstrings with her bravery, despite her prickly nature.

Once the serial killer starts killing again, he drops hints to the media that his rampage is tied to Nina. She’s forced to confront the nightmare that nearly ended her life. Her next encounter with the Cipher is cringe-worthy, but her courage and tenacity shine through and make Nina Guerrera the woman you have to root for. 

I’ve read most of the books in the Rachel Hatch series, but Downburst is the one that I always reminisce about when thinking about this rugged protagonist.

She is ex-military and her code of honor is non-negotiable: "Help good people and punish those who hurt others." That edict is put to the test when she finds herself in a rural town in New Mexico that lives at the mercy of a violent street gang.

Hopelessly outnumbered and mostly on her own while the police look the other way, “Hatch” as she likes to be called, takes on the entire gang and ruthlessly eliminates them a few at a time. There is something very Clint Eastwood about Hatch in her approach and her demeanor. 

This book didn’t start out in the usual way. That in itself grabbed my attention. It’s a thriller, so I expect the first paragraph at least to pull me in. It didn’t grab me the way most do; it slowly sucked me in until I found myself not wanting to put it down.

The two main characters seemed to be at odds. One wanting to help and one refusing to speak. I don’t understand not trying to find answers that keep me silent. It must be the curiosity that kept me reading. Because the woman could speak. At least she could at one time. Either it was something traumatic, or it was just plain stubbornness. Or was I missing the entire point? Always an option. 

This is a police procedural set in the 1970s in East Berlin. The author successfully evokes an atmosphere of paranoia and suspicion, as the main character, a female detective, must try to solve the murder of a young girl who seems to have been killed fleeing from West to East Germany (not the usual direction). The feeling that everyone is watching, everyone is a potential informer, everything is potentially corrupt, corresponds to all the research I did on East Germany. Plus, it’s a great story that’s hard to put down.

Detective Kylie Millard returns to her investigative duties in this second book in the Badlands Thriller series when she’s called to a murder scene of a young couple and a missing baby. Like the first book in the series, White Out, the writing is taut and the pacing is brisk. But what I especially love about this book is the intertwining narratives of the three female characters—Kylie, Lily, and Hannah—and how these disparate stories eventually come together. Quite the twist at the end!

I love realistic heroes who are fallible yet, to their core, have a sense of morals. Throw in the verisimilitude of police procedurals (or military), plus a good mystery, and you’ve got me. Author Michael Connelly has juxtaposed an aging main character, retired LA Detective Harry Bosch, with a younger LA detective, Renée Ballard. In the old-school, patriarchal LAPD, Ballard had quite a challenge conducting the detective work she was passionate about.

I’m impressed with the three-dimensional characters of the two generations, each equally dedicated to getting justice in the cases they’re working on. Connelly's Bosch is far from perfect, and Ballard, the rising next-gen, are two characters I am compelled to follow.

Cool cover, right? What’s the book about? When it comes to this great author, it could be anything in the scary realm of horror. This book is amazing, with perfect doses of Lovecraftian horror, pulp fiction, and riveting characters. Still a favorite. Well-written and turns up not only the horror but well-defined characters, this author never misses the mark. A great book to introduce yourself to his work, too.

Mary is described on the first page of Allegedly as “just born bad, plain and simple.”

When readers learn that Mary has been incarcerated since the age of nine for killing a baby, the claim is easier to believe. Yet, as the story unfolds, the reader learns that Mary’s mother is an abusive narcissist and the actual events of the death are put into question.

This story brings up important issues about nature versus nurture, mental illness, and a justice system predicated on the assumption that to be Black is to be born guilty.