31 Reads of Terror: 'Trust Me' by Hank Phillippi Ryan

I usually breeze past titles like Trust Me by Hank Phillippi Ryan, what with its mind-numbingly redundant title and a cover so dull it could put a caffeine-fueled squirrel to sleep. But when the price tag dips to a staggering $1.25, I’m willing to gamble on my literary luck, even with a flimsy blurb that might make other readers sprint for the exit as if fleeing a masked killer. Seriously, Forge should hang their head in shame over that description. It goes something like this: “There are three sides to every story. Yours. Mine. And the truth.” An accused killer insists she’s innocent. A journalist, shattered by grief, rises from the ashes. Their uneasy partnership spirals into a hair-raising game of deceit. But the moment you read that, you’re left wondering: who's put together such a mundane lure instead of hooking a reader’s curiosity?

Does anyone recall the infamous Casey Anthony trial? You know, the woman who somehow waltzed away from the accusation of killing her daughter with a smirk that would chill your bones? I can't help but think this real-life drama served as inspiration for Trust Me. There are just too many alignments. A quick Google search could probably verify it, but alas, the fatigue of the day weighs heavily on me. In any case, the plot revolves around the "Baby Boston" murder trial, where Ashlyn Bryant stands accused of dumping her two-year-old daughter, Tasha, into the murky waters of Boston Harbor. Yeah, you can see where the echoes of reality merge with fiction.

The lead character, Mercer Hennessey, is a journalist haunted by her own tragedy; her husband and daughter were killed in a horrific car accident. Turning into a modern-day recluse, she rarely ventures beyond her front door until her former editor pulls her back into the fray with an assignment that feels both familiar and sinister. She's tasked to observe the harrowing courtroom testimony via the same video feed that the media gobbles up, and pen a true crime narrative about Tasha's death. Seems simple enough, right? Only there’s a catch: Mercer must finish her manuscript within two weeks of the trial's end.

The pacing of the story is relentless, kicking off with the ghastly discovery of Tasha's lifeless body wrapped in duct tape—the kind of moment that embeds itself in your nightmares like a stubborn splinter. Mercer’s introduction is filled with promise; you'd think a woman plagued by such heartache would leap off the page. Yet, despite her tragic backstory, I found myself struggling to connect. She came across as stilted, emotionless. Sadly, the other characters followed suit, resembling a cast from a forgettable Lifetime movie, ripped from today’s headlines, which this book is.

Overall, I found Trust Me to be a rather run-of-the-mill read; nothing that’ll keep you up at night in a good way. While I appreciated the story's core, it feels like it might disturb, even repel, other readers. So, if you're itching to give it a go, be my guest—but don’t say I didn’t warn you. ╌★★½✰✰

〜B.J. Burgess