'Not human. Not human.’
That line alone made this audiobook leave my car and follow me home.
I usually only listen to audiobooks in the car. It's my strict rule. Commute only. Close By broke that rule.
The moment I knew this audiobook wasn’t staying in my car was during the second murder, when the victim is running for her life thinking, “Not human. Not human.” That was it. Couch listening activated. Shoes still on. Priorities reassessed.
The book hooks you immediately with a murder that feels almost inevitable. A geologist is warned to stay away from a site after dark. He ignores that warning. If this were a horror movie, he’d be the person hiding behind the one tree in an open field. You know something terrible is coming—you just don’t know exactly how bad it’s going to be. That sense of dread never really lets up.
What really sets Close By apart is how deeply it weaves in Native American spirituality and culture. The respect for the earth, the heavens, and everything in between felt genuine and thoughtfully handled. It wasn’t flashy or overdone; it just made sense. Pure in a way that grounded the story rather than distracting from it.
Kari, our main character, stands with one foot in two worlds: Her mother’s Navajo culture and her father’s white culture. Watching her navigate both with respect, intelligence, and purpose was one of the strongest parts of the book. She doesn’t reject either side. She uses both to solve the murders, and that balance felt authentic and earned.
Audiobook-wise, listening definitely slowed me down. If I’d had a paperback, I’d have torn through this in half the time. That said, the narrator did a solid job, emotion where it mattered, emphasis in the right places, and no vocal gymnastics that make you cringe. Always appreciated.
Kari was front and center for me the entire time, but I wanted to slap the conceited FBI agent on her behalf. Gently. With a 2 x 4. He was insufferable. The kind of character who exists solely to make you mutter, “Ugh, this guy again,” every time he shows up.
The setting did a lot of the heavy lifting when it came to tension. These murders happen on sacred land, and that alone adds a layer of unease that seeps into every scene. You don’t just feel like crimes are being committed. You feel like something deeper is being violated.
This was my first Blake Pierce book, but it won’t be my last. These are exactly the kinds of thrillers I love: crime-focused, atmospheric, culturally rich, and unapologetically dark.
And for the record, there’s no sweaty sex, no romance, no flowers. Just pure, unadulterated murder and mayhem.
Which is exactly how I like it.
