Oh, this book. I had such high hopes, but for the love. It was just bad.
The book begins as pilot Chip Linton crashes his jet into Lake Champlain, trying desperately to make a water landing as successfully as Sully Sullenberger, but failing. While he survives, 39 of the passengers don't, and he is racked with guilt. He decides to move with his wife and two twin daughters to a small New England town to start over, and that's where the trouble begins.
Chip quickly begins hearing voices and seeing various victims from the crash in his basement. They all seem to hover around a mysterious door bolted with - wait for it - 39 locks.
Oh, yeah. And there's also a weird herb-worshiping cult of old people who want to drink the blood of their children. So there's that.
I had a few problems with this book. One, Chip and his wife, Emily, are ridiculously stupid and are quite possibly the worst parents in recent literary history. I had a hard time feeling any sympathy for them. Two, the villainous cult members are all so obviously evil that it's almost humorous. It's like sending Gargamel into a Smurf's home wearing a ball cap and assuming no one will notice it's him. And three, the ending. It's just so, so bad and cliche and everything that's wrong with a badly plotted ghost story.
I say skip it, and read a Shirley Jackson novel instead. That woman knew how to do scary right.
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