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- Title: Missing Molly
- Author: Natalie Barelli
- Narrator: Lucy Price-Lewis
- Length: 07:57:00
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 05/03/2019
- Publisher: Dreamscape Media, LLC
- Genre: Mystery, Thriller & Horror, Psychological
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
The first time I heard Lucy Price-Lewis’s voice wrap around Natalie Barelli’s psychological thriller Missing Molly, I was transported back to those Oaxacan evenings where every whispered story carried the weight of survival. Much like that grandmother’s tales, this audiobook doesn’t just tell a story – it lets you feel the sweat on Rachel Holloway’s palms as she fights to keep her identity as Molly Forster buried.
Barelli constructs her psychological maze with the precision of a cartographer mapping forbidden territory. The central conceit – a woman forced to investigate her own disappearance – unfolds like the layers of an onion I once watched a street vendor in Mexico City peel, each revelation more pungent than the last. Rachel’s dual reality (loving mother by day, terrified fugitive by night) resonates with my travels through places where people reconstruct identities out of necessity – the Syrian refugees in Istanbul cafes, the former gang members running surf schools in El Salvador.
Price-Lewis’s narration is a masterclass in controlled tension. Her British accent lends an air of detached observation that makes Rachel’s internal panic attacks all the more devastating – like hearing a seismograph needle scratch wildly beneath a calm voice. She particularly shines in the podcast scenes, where her vocal modulation creates distinct audio personalities for each interviewee. The scene where Rachel’s daughter innocently sings a song from Molly’s childhood? Price-Lewis delivers it with the quiet horror of a glass shattering in slow motion.
The production quality mirrors the story’s psychological depth. Dreamscape Media’s subtle use of reverb during flashback sequences creates an aural uncanny valley – these aren’t memories, but hauntings. I listened during a night train through Transylvania (appropriately enough), and the way ambient sounds disappeared during Rachel’s dissociation episodes made me check my own reflection in the window more than once.
Barelli’s exploration of reinvention particularly struck me. Having documented communities that rebuild after disasters, I recognize Rachel’s desperate curation of her ‘Rachel’ persona – the careful selection of mannerisms like souvenirs in a curated life. The podcast framing device cleverly mirrors our true crime obsession’s ethical murkiness. When the host cheerfully discusses Molly’s case, I recalled a vulture-like tour guide in Cambodia monetizing genocide sites.
Some thriller purists might find the middle section’s psychological focus slower than standard cat-and-mouse chases. But this is where Price-Lewis’s performance shines brightest – she makes Rachel’s paranoia tactile, whether it’s the way her voice constricts during school drop-offs or the barely audible swallow before lying to her boyfriend. The scene where Rachel must casually discuss Molly’s possible murder while making dinner? That’s vocal acting worthy of a Hitchcock film.
Compared to similar identity thrillers like The Girl on the Train or The Wife Between Us, Missing Molly stands apart by making the stakes profoundly domestic. Rachel isn’t running through airports or decoding symbols – she’s fighting to keep bedtime stories and grocery runs from becoming crime scenes. Barelli understands that the most terrifying threats aren’t shadowy figures, but the PTA mom who might recognize your tells.
For audiobook listeners who want their thrillers psychological rather than procedural, who appreciate narrators that build dread through breathing patterns rather than shouting, this is your next obsession. Perfect for: long drives where exits start looking alike, insomnia nights when the walls feel thin, or anyone who’s ever wondered how well they truly know their reflection.
My only critique? The resolution’s pacing feels slightly rushed compared to the exquisite slow burn. But perhaps that’s fitting – after so much tension, even escape must come breathlessly.
May your journeys – literal and literary – always lead you to truths worth finding,
Marcus
Marcus Rivera
