On occasion, a debut novel comes along that hums with the quiet threat of something just beneath the surface. Bonfire by Krysten Ritter is one of those books. It’s a simmering cauldron of suspense, old ghosts, and unresolved questions — all bound together by the weight of a past that refuses to stay buried.

At its center is Abby Williams, an environmental lawyer who has traded her small-town roots for the sharp edges of Chicago’s cityscape. But when she’s called back to Barrens, Indiana, to investigate the town’s economic heartbeat — Optimal Plastics — her carefully polished life begins to fissure. What starts as a legal case becomes something far more insidious, tethered to the town’s most infamous scandal: the disappearance of Kaycee Mitchell, a girl whose absence still echoes through the town’s five claustrophobic miles.

What I appreciate most about Bonfire is Ritter’s deft hand in shaping Abby Williams. She’s sharp, complicated, and at times, just as maddening as she is relatable. Abby isn’t written to be “likable,” but that’s precisely what makes her human. Her flaws aren’t flaws for the sake of flaws; they feel authentic, like old bruises that never quite faded.

The pacing is deliberate, with twists and revelations layered in like brushstrokes on a canvas. It’s not a relentless, heart-stopping ride, but rather a slow, steady march into the belly of something darker than expected. And just when you think you’ve seen it all, Ritter unveils a ritual called “The Game,” which is as unsettling as it is unforgettable. Without spoiling too much, I’ll say this: Bonfire takes you to the edge, and if you’re not ready for what it asks you to look at, you might find yourself blinking away the image long after the final page.

Ritter’s writing is precise but not sterile, rich but never overwrought. The small-town setting is oppressive in all the right ways, and the subtle thread of paranoia running through the story feels as present as the air around you. While Bonfire didn’t carve itself into my psyche as one of those “forever” thrillers, it’s one I’ll gladly recommend to fans of slow-burn suspense, deeply human characters, and thrillers with teeth. Just be warned — those teeth might bite, and there’s an eye-gouging scene that you’ll feel for a while.

Krysten Ritter has already proven herself as a powerhouse on screen, but this debut proves she’s just as formidable on the page. If she writes another, I’ll be the first in line, ready to read with all the reverence and thrill of someone about to learn a new secret.