Those Empty Eyes

“‘I saw three victims and a suspect with a gun.’

‘How would you describe the atmosphere inside that room?’

‘Tense…’”

This courtroom dialogue exchange between Garrett and Officer Diaz shows how the novel builds dialogue in a way that keeps long courtroom sections moving quickly. The text dispenses with dialogue tags entirely, instead allowing readers to follow the conversation as though listening to something spoken. Because these exchanges happen between only two characters, the novel doesn’t need to signal who is speaking; the structure of the line of questioning accomplishes this.

“Instead of help, what Alexandra Quinlan got were weeks and weeks of headlines accusing her of killing her family—because we all know that in the news media, if it bleeds, it leads.”

Garrett’s statement about how the media treated Alex after her family’s murders illustrates the novel’s attitude toward the relationship between true crime stories and the media. Garrett is deeply critical of how the media exploits such stories; this criticism belies the guilt he feels over his role in Alex’s family’s murders.

“‘As the girl’s attorney—’

‘Alexandra,’ Donna said, cutting her husband off. ‘As Alexandra’s attorney.’”

This exchange between Donna and Garrett speaks to the dehumanizing nature of the American legal system. Donna must remind the other officers—and even her own husband—that Alex is a person, not just a legal subject.

“A loud noise lifted her eyelids. It sounded like something large had fallen on the hardwood floor outside her room, and Alexandra’s freshly woken mind conjured an image of the grandfather clock, which had stood for the entirety of her life in the corner of the second-story hallway, tipping over and splintering against the floor.”

This first scene from Alex’s point of view not only gives insight into her thought process by showing how her mind reacts to the initial suggestion that something has gone wrong, but it also helps set up a crucial symbol for the rest of the novel. The amount of detail given to the role and physical positioning of the grandfather clock establishes the blocking of this pivotal scene as well as the clock’s significance throughout the rest of the novel.

“This was a place where the wealthy stashed their treasure, and Alex guessed the couch and the granite and the marble and the dazzling sunlight were all carefully crafted to make the rich feel rich.”

Here, polysyndeton reflects how overwhelmed Alex feels by the opulence and excess of the Swiss bank. Despite feeling out of place in this setting, Alex observes the artifice at play: She understands that spaces, like identities, can be constructed to impart a particular effect on the viewer.

“The details were painstakingly specific, including such particulars as the exact physics chapter she studied that night for homework—Newton’s first law of motion, which Alex had written on an index card: An object at rest stays at rest unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.”

Alex describes the board on which she amasses evidence about her family’s murders. The level of detail here underscores her obsession with finding the truth and how vividly the memory of that night haunts her. The mantra an object at rest stays at rest becomes a memory that motivates her later, illustrating how her connection to the past is part of what eventually allows her to find closure.

“Drew looked at the photo and cackled. ‘Holy Christ, it does. Like a fuckin’ ghost come back from the dead.’”

Drew’s observation that Alex looks like a “ghost” of the empty-eyed Alexandra Quinlan speaks to Alex is haunted by her past selves. As much as she tries to reinvent herself, the public only sees the specter of her violent past.

“The pistol was supposed to make you feel safe. I never figured you’d actually use it. But I should’ve known better. There’s no problem Americans can’t shoot their way out of.”

Alex’s brief sojourn in Europe allows the novel’s few non-American characters to provide outside commentary about their views of American crime and justice. Here, Leo reflects on the violent nature of US society. The image of Alex using a gun foreshadows the novel’s climax.

“Useful idiots.

Alex’s mind was beginning to fire on all cylinders after twelve hours of sleep. An idea came to her. Bonnie and Clyde, as Leo called them, were exactly what she needed.”

Alex’s encounter with Drew and Verne demonstrates why Alex changes her identity and adds detail to the novel’s thoughts about the dangers of true crime stories. This passage, however, shows how her encounter with Drew and Verne teaches Alex the ways that other people can be useful to her. This frame of mind serves her well later, when most of her work relies on knowing how to use people for the information they can provide.

“Had a teenaged girl miraculously survived the night an armed intruder entered her house and killed the rest of her family? Or, had those empty eyes been a dead giveaway that Alexandra Quinlan had not escaped the shotgun blasts that had killed her family, but had instead been the one who pulled the trigger?”

Tracy’s initial report on the Quinlan murders demonstrates how true crime stories thrive on audiences interpreting them as fiction rather than fact. Here, Tracy asks viewers to consider the possibility that Alex’s eyes alone could act as proof of her criminality. Although illogical, this line of thought fuels the interest in Alex’s story.

“Twelve nominees made up the list, but most were just for show. The candidates were diversified and distinguished and offered hope to just about every voting demographic. When the list was boiled down, though, only a couple of nominees rose to the top.”

Larry Chadwick’s rationale about why he’s the only viable Supreme Court nominee reflects the cynicism toward US politics that is evident throughout the novel. This passage demonstrates that not only the general public but also politicians like Larry feel this cynicism. Larry has fully embraced it.

“‘Sometimes it’s good to let go of the past,’ Garrett said. ‘Not everything. Not the good stuff. But some of it.’”

This passage uses subtextual implications to reflect the complex relationship between Garrett and Alex. On the surface, his advice seems to be given in the hope that Alex will find a way to move on from her past and, in doing so, find healing. Given the novel’s ending, however, his advice can be read as Garrett’s attempt to protect himself from discovery and to protect Alex from Jacqueline.

“He resigned himself to the fact that in order to be handed a lifetime appointment on the highest court in the country his life was going to be dismantled ahead of time to make sure nothing was rotting behind the walls. The demolition, however, never seemed to end.”

Here, Larry Chadwick’s telling metaphor compares his life to a house being taken down. This comparison reveals that Larry views his life as necessarily constructed for external viewership. He’s aware that his words and actions will receive public scrutiny, so he’s careful to make it appear as the public expects it to appear.

“Hard facts were still unknown, which meant that speculation would be wild—perfect for drawing in viewers to her social channels. It mean that the truth was still waiting to be found, and her ravenous audience would eat up any tidbit of information she was able to turn up.”

Tracy’s glee at being assigned early to Laura’s case demonstrates how true crime stories proliferate in the absence of hard facts and are fueled by “speculation” rather than the desire to find the truth. In turn, this fuels Tracy’s fame.

“It’s hard to navigate through this world without leaving a trail.”

Alex explains to Matthew how she plans to trace his steps from the day of Laura’s disappearance. Her conviction that nearly everyone “leaves a trail” is a comment on whom society allows invisibility and on the power of perceiving others.

“It shouldn’t have surprised Annette that Larry Chadwick’s political ambitions blinded him to the fact that a girl was missing. Or that he considered the potential derailment of his Supreme Court nomination more a tragedy than the disappearance of a twenty-year-old college student. He was, after all, a politician.”

Here, Annette interprets Larry’s dismissive attitude toward Laura’s disappearance as a function of political ambition. The pithy final line of the passage illustrates the novel’s pessimistic position toward those in positions of power having empathy.

“The only thing that could be deemed juicier to the press than a young girl gone missing would be uncovering that a woman formerly accused of killing her family was looking into the case.”

Alex demonstrates her acute awareness of how the public and press perceive her. She views herself through this lens, adjusting her actions accordingly.

“Alex reached calmly into her purse and removed a tube of bright orange lipstick. She applied it to her lips and puckered when she was finished. It was all she could do to keep her hands from shaking.”

In this encounter with Annette, which unmasks Alex as Alexandra Quinlan, she copes with her emotions by putting on bright lipstick. This demonstrates how Alex is still trying to “hide” her old self through identity construction. The physical act of putting on lipstick is a form of identity-building: Her appearance without makeup connects to the Armstrong identity, and she tries to rebuild a shield against it.

“A missing girl was more interesting than a dead girl. And a dead girl was interesting only as long as her killer was on the loose. It was the sad reality of American society.”

This passage expresses the novel’s cynicism about American interest in crime. The text suggests that the interest doesn’t stem from wanting to help victims but rather from morbid curiosity about the violence inflicted on them.

“Jerry Lolland would start her on a lifelong quest to root out those who abused others and delivered justice to them that a moral society could not.”

Jacqueline’s diction demonstrates how she conceptualizes her newfound role in society. She feels that she must do what a “moral” society cannot, which suggests that she views her actions as immoral (purposely wrong) or amoral (unconcerned about its being right or wrong) but justifiable because of the gravity of the immorality or amorality of those she plans to kill.

“She should be speeding. She should be restless. Instead, Alex was filled with sorrow for what she feared she might find.”

Alex is sad, knowing what Martin Crew might reveal about who at Lancaster & Jordan committed the Camp Montague murder, but the text doesn’t reveal the exact nature of her “sorrow,” raising questions about what she knows versus what she suspects. She already has strong evidence to suggest that Jacqueline was the killer. It’s unclear, however, whether she’s sad that Crew will confirm her suspicion or already suspects that someone else at the firm is involved (or both). The emotional ambiguity of this moment contributes to the ambiguity of the novel’s ending with regard to Garrett’s emotional state.

“This works out much better. A lonely girl takes her own life at a lonely motel in the middle of nowhere. A troubled girl succumbing to a troubled life.”

Here, Jacqueline explains to Alex why murdering her in the hotel will make for a better story than murdering her earlier would have. This reasoning speaks to how Jacqueline uses the idea of media coverage to protect herself from being discovered. Jacqueline understands the media’s power to shape the perceived “truth” of a crime—and she understands how to manipulate this.

“I’ve always known it was inevitable. I’ve always known that in order to keep purging the world of predators, we’d have to tie up the only loose end we’d ever left behind.”

Jacqueline’s conviction that Alex must die for her to continue her work reflects the fundamental difference between Jacqueline and Garrett: Jacqueline believes that the moral imperative of their work justifies the means by which they carry it out, while Garrett sees more nuance and believes that life is worth preserving.