I’m just going to say it: Simone St. James is the queen of the "creepy car ride" trope. You know that feeling when you're driving down a pitch-black backroad and you suddenly get the urge to lock all your doors? That’s basically the entire vibe of Murder Road. Honestly, if you’ve read The Sun Down Motel or The Broken Girls, you already know she’s a master at mixing grit with ghosts. But this one feels different. It’s leaner. Meaner. It taps into that specific 1995 nostalgia that feels less like "Stranger Things" and more like a faded, blood-stained polaroid.
The premise is deceptively simple. A honeymooning couple, April and Eddie, get lost on their way to a resort in Michigan. They take a wrong turn onto Atticus Road—the titular Murder Road—and find a hitchhiker bleeding out in the middle of the pavement. Naturally, they try to help. And naturally, because this is a thriller, the police immediately decide the "good Samaritans" are actually the prime suspects. It’s a classic setup, but St. James twists it by layering on a decade’s worth of cold cases and a supernatural entity that might be more than just a local legend.
The 1995 Aesthetic and Why It Actually Works
Setting a book in 1995 isn't just a gimmick here. It’s a structural necessity. Think about it. No iPhones. No GPS. No quick Google searches to see if the town you're in has a history of ritualistic killings. If April and Eddie had a smartphone, the book would be ten pages long. Instead, they are stuck in a world of payphones and paper maps. This lack of instant information creates a claustrophobia that is hard to find in modern-day thrillers.
The mid-90s also allows St. James to play with the specific "Satanic Panic" leftovers and the burgeoning era of DNA profiling. It was a transition period. We were moving away from the analog world but hadn't quite reached the digital age. This "in-between" space mirrors the ghosts in the book. They are stuck between being remembered and being forgotten.
Breaking Down the "Lost Rock" Killer
One of the best things about Murder Road is the lore. Cold cases are a staple of the genre, but the "Lost Rock" murders feel grounded in a way that’s genuinely unsettling. Since 1989, girls have been going missing along this stretch of highway. The locals know it. The cops know it. But nobody does anything because the road itself seems to swallow evidence.
April is our primary lens into this. She’s not your typical "final girl." She has a dark past of her own—one she’s keeping from Eddie. This creates a double layer of tension. We aren't just worried about the killer on the road; we’re worried about the secrets inside the car. It’s a brilliant move. It makes the relationship between April and Eddie feel fragile even though they are literally on their honeymoon. You start to wonder if they even know each other at all.
What really stands out is how St. James handles the "ghost." Is it a ghost? Is it a mass hallucination? Or is it something more physical? She doesn't give you easy answers. The entity on Atticus Road is described with such visceral, gross detail that it feels more like a creature feature than a standard haunting. It’s wet. It’s pale. It doesn't move quite right. It’s the kind of imagery that sticks in your brain when you're brushing your teeth at night.
Why the "Unreliable Narrator" Trope Isn't What You Think
We’ve all read books where the narrator is just lying to us for the sake of a twist. It’s gotten a bit tired. But in Murder Road, April’s "unreliability" isn't a cheap trick. It’s a survival mechanism. She grew up in the foster system, moved around constantly, and learned how to disappear. When the police in the small town of Cold Lake start grilling her, she reverts to those survival instincts.
The conflict isn't just "catch the killer." It’s "how do I prove I’m innocent without revealing who I actually am?"
Eddie, on the other hand, is the golden boy with a military background. He wants to trust the system. He wants to believe that if they just tell the truth, everything will be fine. Watching their worldviews clash under the pressure of a murder investigation is arguably more interesting than the mystery itself. St. James is basically telling us that the ghosts of our past are just as dangerous as the ones in the woods.
The Reality of Small-Town Hostility
Let’s talk about the setting. Cold Lake is the kind of town where everyone knows everyone’s business, but nobody talks about the skeletons in the closet. The police department is portrayed with a chillingly realistic blend of incompetence and malice. They aren't necessarily "evil" in a cartoonish way; they are just lazy and protective of their own.
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It’s easier to blame the two strangers from out of town than to admit a serial killer (or a supernatural force) has been hunting their daughters for years. This is a real-world horror that St. James nails. It’s the banality of evil. The way a community will sacrifice an outsider to keep their own peace.
The Supernatural Element: A Polarizing Choice?
I’ve seen some readers get annoyed when a grounded thriller suddenly introduces ghosts. If you want a 100% realistic police procedural, Murder Road might frustrate you. But St. James has always operated in this "liminal" space. To her, the paranormal is just another facet of the environment.
The supernatural in this book acts as a metaphor for trauma. The hitchhiker that won't stay dead, the car that appears out of nowhere—these are physical manifestations of the victims that the town tried to ignore. You can’t just bury a body and expect it to stay quiet. Eventually, the truth claws its way back up to the surface. It’s messy. It’s loud. And it’s usually violent.
Comparing Murder Road to St. James’ Other Works
If you loved The Sun Down Motel, you’ll find a lot to like here. Both feature a dual sense of dread and a strong female lead digging into a cold case. However, Murder Road feels more contained. It’s faster. There isn't as much bouncing between timelines, which makes the pacing feel more urgent.
Some people think The Broken Girls is her masterpiece because of the historical depth. I’d argue Murder Road is more effective as a pure "scary story." It’s the kind of book you finish in two sittings because you’re too stressed to put it down. It’s less of a gothic mystery and more of a supernatural survival horror.
Actionable Tips for Readers and Aspiring Thriller Writers
If you're picking up this book, or if you're trying to write something with this kind of "grip," keep a few things in mind.
- Pay attention to the sensory details. St. James doesn't just say a room is scary; she describes the smell of old copper and the way the light hits a certain corner. In your own writing or reading, look for those "anchor" details.
- The "Why Now?" factor. Every good thriller needs a reason why the mystery is being solved now instead of ten years ago. In this book, it's April and Eddie's arrival. They are the catalyst. If you’re writing a story, make sure your protagonists are the only ones who could solve the puzzle.
- Don't fear the "genre mashup." Many writers are told to pick a lane—either horror or thriller. Murder Road proves that you can do both. The key is to make the stakes real in both worlds. The physical threat of the police is just as scary as the ghost in the backseat.
- Research the era. If you’re writing a period piece (even the 90s!), get the tech right. The absence of technology is a powerful tool for building suspense. Use it.
The Verdict on Atticus Road
Is it the best book of the year? Maybe not. But it’s a masterclass in atmosphere. It captures a specific kind of American dread—the fear of the empty highway, the weird gas station, and the person standing just outside the reach of your headlights.
Most people get wrong that this is "just another ghost story." It’s actually a very tight character study about what happens to a marriage when it's forged in secrets and tested by fire. By the time you get to the final act, the "who" of the murders matters less than the "how" April and Eddie survive the night.
If you're looking for your next read, grab a copy, lock your doors, and maybe don't plan any road trips through Michigan anytime soon.
Next Steps for Fans of Simone St. James
- Check out the Audiobook version: Mary-Louise Parker (or similar high-caliber narrators in past works) usually brings a specific gravitas to these stories. The narration for St. James' books often enhances the "ghost story" feel.
- Explore the "Rural Noir" genre: If the small-town dread was your favorite part, look into authors like S.A. Cosby or Gillian Flynn.
- Map the setting: While Cold Lake is fictional, it’s heavily inspired by the actual geography of the Michigan Lower Peninsula. Looking at old maps of the area can give you a better sense of the isolation April and Eddie felt.
Ultimately, the power of this story lies in its ability to make the mundane feel predatory. A road is just asphalt and dirt until the sun goes down. Then, it becomes something else entirely. St. James reminds us that we are never truly alone, even when we’re miles from civilization. Sometimes, that’s the most terrifying thought of all.
Key Takeaways for Thriller Lovers
The brilliance of this novel isn't in a "shocking" twist that changes everything you knew. Instead, it's the slow realization that the horror was always there, hiding in plain sight.
- Atmosphere is King: The setting is a character in itself.
- Trauma as a Ghost: The supernatural elements represent the weight of the past.
- The 90s Setting: Use of the pre-digital era to maximize isolation and tension.
- Character Depth: April’s backstory provides a necessary foil to the external mystery.
To truly appreciate the ending, you have to look past the "whodunnit" and focus on the "who are they now." The resolution of the Atticus Road mystery is satisfying, but the emotional resolution for April is what lingers. It's a reminder that while we can't change what happened on the road, we can choose who we walk away with.