Life on Santa Catalina Island seems to be idyllic and carefree, but in WHAT NEVER HAPPENED, Rachel Howzell Hall imagines the dark side of the serene, secluded and supposedly safe vacation spot. Colette Weber, also known as Coco, is back after a failed marriage that almost led to a breakdown. Her aging aunt, who lives on the island, needs help. While they've never been close, Gwen did help raise Coco, so she feels she must be there for her now.

At the start of the novel, we wonder if Coco is going to be a reliable narrator. She doesn't seem to be mentally stable and is very open about her mental lapses. Her marriage (such as it was) ended up being a nightmare, and leaving LA is definitely a good move for her. But going back to the island means revisiting the place where her whole family was murdered one night while she luckily escaped after spending the night out with a group of teenagers. The man she saw on the patio when she got home was convicted of the homicides, but recently recovered DNA evidence shows that he was not guilty. So now there has been no accountability for the crime.

"There is much to ponder in this enjoyable, thrilling novel. Hall provides a plethora of red herrings, gives us a protagonist with mental health issues whom we like, and keeps us guessing throughout until the final shocker."

Coco finds out that the island has whitewashed the whole thing. This is ironic because practically the entire island is white, while Coco and her family are pretty much the only Black folks there. Her father, a high school coach and teacher, wanted to live on the island because his commute had been incredibly time-consuming. Her mother was not so happy about the move, complaining about the island's racist past (when Black people couldn't even take the ferry to get to the island) and the dearth of Black residents. Not much has changed in the past two decades, and we see the small snubs as Coco continues to be one of the island's few minorities.

Hall sets the action in March. The cold, rain and fog create a suitably eerie atmosphere and heighten our unease as Coco moves around the island, often looking over her shoulder. Few cars are allowed (the only way to the island is by ferry), and most residents have golf carts to get around. Much of the surrounding real estate has been bought by investors and converted into B&Bs, and too often Coco's driveway is blocked by a visitor's vehicle. Coco gets anonymous messages about how she is not wanted on the island. In fact, someone is sending her fake obituary notices and choosing various ways for her to die, all of which are painful and graphically described. This is another ironic element as one of Coco's responsibilities with the small local paper she works for is to write obituaries, which she had done for a much larger newspaper in LA before moving.

It's brought to Coco's attention that many older women have passed away in the last few months. While they all had health problems, they died outside --- alone --- and from "heart failure." Coco begins to investigate these deaths. Helping her is a fellow journalist, Noah, whose wealthy family has lived on the island. They both work for Maddy, Coco's friend from college and owner of the newspaper. Hall makes it clear from the start that Maddy is a fair-weather friend and not someone Coco really trusts. She has only known Noah for a few weeks, and her aunt is slipping mentally.

Hall deftly moves the action forward by interspersing Coco's clever obits of the deceased women (and Coco herself) with the action, and occasionally providing flashbacks to the day her family was murdered. When they took a tour of the island, Coco remembers that the docent explained how invasive species, plants and animals almost destroyed the island. Her brother unthinkingly spits out a tangerine seed that the docent quickly recovers. She explains how outsiders, like this seed, aren't welcome. We get the idea that she's not just talking about tangerine seeds.

Hall blindsides us at the end with a twist that I didn't see coming. Greed, racism, small-town mentality, fear of the "other" and even flexible moral choices all contribute to making this thriller a bit different from most. The care with which Hall handles presenting a Black protagonist is both subtle and compelling. From her hair weave to the not-so-hidden racism, we see Coco's determination to live on the island, and we wonder why her father wanted to live there so badly.

In real life, there have been many instances of property taken from Black residents, including the recent California case of Bruce's Beach. A Manhattan Beach property that was bought so that Black people could enjoy the ocean in the days of segregation was taken from them under the guise of eminent domain. Another woman is seeking reparations after the town of Santa Monica took her family's property when they were going to build a club for Black people to take full advantage of the beach location. So a California island right off the coast of LA where Black people are not made to feel welcome is not too big of a stretch.

There is much to ponder in this enjoyable, thrilling novel. Hall provides a plethora of red herrings, gives us a protagonist with mental health issues whom we like, and keeps us guessing throughout until the final shocker.