Vanish by Shelley Burr

Vanish is the third instalment in Shelley Burr’s compelling series featuring ex-private investigator Lane Holland, and though it may not reach the tonal brilliance of Wake, it remains a taut, quietly unnerving piece of crime fiction that reaffirms Burr’s mastery of the Australian fiction landscape.

This time, the brooding Lane Holland is no longer operating on the fringes of legality, now he’s squarely behind bars. But his incarceration doesn’t stifle his drive to solve the cold case that has haunted him for two decades: the disappearance of Matilda Carver. When a tenuous link surfaces between Matilda’s case and a series of recent disappearances tied to the remote Karpathy farm, Lane wrangles his way into a prisoner work release programme. His goal? Go undercover, get inside, and get answers.

Burr’s talent lies in creating an undercurrent of menace that pulses steadily beneath every interaction. The Karpathy farm, with its cultish overtones and charismatic leader Samuel Karpathy, is an ideal stage for this slow burn thriller. It’s a place of eco-conscious living and communal ideals that are an oasis for some, and a trap for others. The question at the heart of the narrative - what really happens to those who seek refuge here? - is explored with increasing intensity. Is this an alternative community, a commune, a cult, or something far more sinister?

While Vanish lacks some of the layered intricacy that made Wake an instant classic, it still offers sharp characterisation and a moody sense of place. Lane remains a compelling lead that is damaged, persistent, and just reckless enough to make every decision feel like a tightrope walk. His interactions with Karpathy’s followers feel authentic, though one might question the plausibility of his blunt questioning tactics not raising alarm sooner. That said, Burr’s portrait of Karpathy is hauntingly good: he's magnetic, controlling, and utterly believable as the anchor of this insular world.

Mina, who returns from previous books, is underutilised but still offers flashes of the psychological insight and hardened empathy that made her a standout in Wake. She’s sidelined here, and the novel would have benefited from more of her presence. Still, Burr’s character work ensures even minor figures are more than stock roles. They feel lived in, with motives and histories simmering beneath their silences.

Burr resists the urge for spectacle, instead opting for realism wrapped in rural claustrophobia. The short, punchy chapters keep the pace tight, while natural disasters add an unpredictable chaos to the farm’s isolation.

Vanish is a slightly leaner novel than its predecessors, but it's no less effective in its tension-building or its exploration of vulnerability, redemption, and the darkness that can thrive in the name of reinvention. Burr has crafted a crime story that is Australian in voice, yet universally resonant in theme. Vanish may not eclipse Wake, but it holds its own with confident, eerie charm.

Reviewer: Chris Reed

Hachette