Welcome to the 4th book in the Lucy Kincaid series by Allison Brennan. Titled Silenced — a title that actually fits! — I had a good time with this novel for several reasons. Firstly, we don’t have Lucy and her boyfriend, Sean, teaming up on another case, nor do we have Lucy clinging to the side of FBI agent Noah. Instead, there are some bad vibes that kick off the novel, put Lucy in a new role, and give readers something unfamiliar into which they can sink their teeth.
In Washington, D.C. the press is buzzing because someone released evidence that a politician is having an affair. A few days later, his affair partner is dead. Could it be she knew too much about the politician and was silenced? It looks like attempted sexual assault, but the evidence doesn’t match up.
Lucy has been admitted to the FBI academy, so while she’s been indispensable on previous cases, she’s not even a student yet. Training at Quantico starts in a few weeks. However, Agent Noah takes Lucy to the scene as an analyst. Somehow, she seems to be rubbing Noah the wrong way, which is not the norm. It seems like Lucy is overstepping her bounds as future student by adding theories and asking questions during interviews when she was supposed to just shadow Noah. Even worse, she’s starting to seem too emotional when the victims are connected to sexual crimes. Noah asks a trusted colleague about it, one who wrote a recommendation for Lucy’s denied application to the FBI to be reviewed:
“We need people like Lucy in the Bureau. Too many of us are jaded, are focused on the job and not the people. She sees everything through a lens that I can’t even see. It’s not easy for her, or for you, or for her future partner. None of this is going to be easy.”
I love this admittance right on the page that Lucy’s life isn’t going to be all hero stuff, all hard work equaling awesome results, when rarely is that the case in real life. She’s a victim herself, she’s very smart, and she has loads of experience in different fields (policing, mortuary, psychology) to back her up.
In addition, because the murder victim was connected to a politician, the case is connected to the white collar crimes unit, whereas Noah is part of homicide and sexual crimes. Therefore, an overly-eager, smarmy white collar crimes detective, who just “knows” in his gut that all politicians are scumbags and wants to “nail” them, is introduced. He irritates Lucy and Noah because he speaks of the victim terribly.
Later, in D.C. the metro police investigate a murdered Black prostitute in a low-income all-Black area. Because there is a similar style to how the first woman was killed, Lucy and Noah are brought in. Lucy has irked Noah one too many times, so to get her out of the way, he has her work with the metro police, namely a cop who lets us know she’s grandma age when she pulls a quarter from one pocket and puts it in the other every time she swears. It’s a deal she made with her grandson. But she’s determined, and she’s easy to like as a character.
Therefore, unlike the previous three novels, Lucy is working with a police officer, Noah is working for a weasel, and Sean is actually on the west coast working another project. Sean does show up in D.C., however. In fact, his subplot provides most of the tension. Namely, a politician we meet in a previous book claims that the only reason Lucy was accepted into the FBI was because he twisted some arms. Sean knows that would destroy her confidence. In addition, the politician swears there is evidence that would connect Lucy to withholding evidence to prosecute a murderer. Thus, Sean has no choice but to help the politician to clear Lucy’s name. It’s all illegal, under-the-radar type stuff, and my nerves were jangly, wondering if Sean would be arrested himself.
Both Lucy and Sean are caught in some action-packed situations, including a couple of shoot outs. Yet, Allison Brennan lets readers know she sees how unbelievable some of the action is when Lucy and Sean tell each other to be careful after Lucy is hurt, only for the conversation to become about one-upmanship: who needs to be the most careful?
“You’re the one who fell two stories down a mine shaft not 2 months ago.”
“You crashed my plane.”
“Did not. It was shot down.”
Sean raised his eyebrow.
“You,” she added, “were kidnapped by a lunatic.”
“So were you.”
“I’d say we’re even then.”
“Maybe we should move to an uninhabited island where neither of us can get in trouble.”
“We’d probably run into a poisonous snake.”
I love that Brennan is saying, “Yes, this is fiction, you love it, and I know it’s a lot to believe, but you’re having fun, right?” She is right; I devoured this book in two days and am ready to move on to the next one.
Grab the Lapels 
I’ve read a few series where the characters and the narrative structure clicked together so well that all I wanted was the same experience again with just enough variation to recapture the experience of reading the first book for the first time. Maybe that worked out for the second book, but the third or fourth… Eh. In other cases, I’ve almost dropped a series I ended up loving because the second or third book was so different. I loved Ender’s Game as a kid, but I struggled through Speaker for the Dead, for example. As I read your reviews of this series, I keep thinking the author is being very intentional with the balance of familiarity, novelty, plot callbacks, and character development. You get to feel satisfied with this book, but you want to reach for the next one. I really liked the bit where one character observes that Lucy doesn’t have the emotional detachment they expect is needed to succeed in the FBI, but another points out that her perspective brings value that more conventional, experienced agents have lost over time. When we are hiring at work, that kind of thing comes up a lot. If you prioritize “cultural fit” in recruitment, you end up with a group of people who can only churn out the same solutions to the same problems. It’s important to get people together who are unified in purpose, but diverge in perspective, approach, experience, etc. Having that kind of establishment vs. outsider conflict makes space for interesting developments in whatever comes next.
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The worrisome part to me is that the agent is upset that Lucy really cares about victims. For instance, the goofball who is obsessed with “nailing perps” talks about dead victims like they aren’t human. It upsets Lucy, so sometimes she says something while other times the agent over her gives her a “be quiet” glare. On the one hand, I want law enforcement to sympathize with victims, not only feeling sad, but understanding how a victim doesn’t become such in one instance. There is a story and a life behind it. On the other hand, sympathizing with victims all day every day likely leads to burnout in law enforcement. I remember when I took driver’s training, the cop who came in to talk about drunk driving described a collision that was the result of drunk driving. The car had caught on fire, and the person looked rather…cooked. When he got home that night, his wife had made ribs, which he threw across the room and smashed on the wall.
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Some of this discussion reminds me of why I like a particular British police show, Inspector George Gently, except in this case it’s the old policeman who is attuned to feelings and nuance, and what’s reasonable and likely, while it’s the younger detective who relies on cliches and prejudice. It’s an excellent show because the older policeman is sometimes patient sometimes impatient but you know that he can see that the young policeman has a lot going for him but needs to be encouraged to think rather than jump to conclusions. It’s set in the 60s as I recollect so they’re both men of course.
Loved your write up here … you captured why you liked it and gave a good sense of the plot too without giving it at. Your opening paragraph was great.
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You’re right; I, too, often see the older policeman working from instinct and the younger being more brash/impatient. I always assumed the older policeman’s intuition was developed through years of experience. That doesn’t work in Lucy Kincaid’s life because she’s in her mid-twenties.
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I love that the author is self aware enough to know how unlikely some of the plot elements are! That’s fun.
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Indeed. I feel seen/called out when an author writes what I am thinking isn’t working in the story.
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It seems strange to describe a novel about murder as “fun” but the fact the author is winking at us that, yes she knows this is very unlikely, does make it sound very entertaining
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That exchange you quote at the end made me smile. I like a bit of self-awareness from authors when they keep having very unlikely things in their books!
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Me, too. I don’t want to have to feel like I’m compiling a list of complaints in my head while reading. If the author knows what’s up, too, then I see the intention and understanding.
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That was a great quote that you included – when the author is in on the joke and fully understands what she’s doing, and why it’s appealing to readers, everything seems much more fun! I love that you’re working your way through these books, they are a great addition to your blog.
Now, have I missed something, or are you a bit behind in your carrot posts?
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I haven’t shared a carrot post in a while because I often wait for something to happen so it’s not just memes. I’ll have one up soon!
I’m so glad you like the reviews of Brennan’s work. 🙂
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ok that makes sense. Don’t force them! haha
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