Two girls are dead.
A young mother is kidnapped.
And behind it all - with his journal and warm glass of milk - is a delusional psychopath that’s only getting started.
These are just a few of the pieces that made Dom Driscol’s debut novel an instant bestseller. With some critics already calling the memoir-style thriller, the scariest work of fiction in decades.
But unbeknownst to Dom, part-time sleuth, Izzy Hernandez, reads between the lines. She sees through his lies, and she has the receipts to prove it. For the past three years, Izzy has seen the girls around her disappear. She's watched their loved one's weep. And with too many similarities to ignore, Izzy thinks she’s found her lead - or has she? Because behind Dom's dark novel, not everything is how it appears…
With flashbacks intricately woven throughout, BEFORE HE KNOCKS, serves as a heart-pounding dive into the mind of a madman and the victims he leaves in his wake.
Two girls are dead.
A young mother is kidnapped.
And behind it all - with his journal and warm glass of milk - is a delusional psychopath that’s only getting started.
These are just a few of the pieces that made Dom Driscol’s debut novel an instant bestseller. With some critics already calling the memoir-style thriller, the scariest work of fiction in decades.
But unbeknownst to Dom, part-time sleuth, Izzy Hernandez, reads between the lines. She sees through his lies, and she has the receipts to prove it. For the past three years, Izzy has seen the girls around her disappear. She's watched their loved one's weep. And with too many similarities to ignore, Izzy thinks she’s found her lead - or has she? Because behind Dom's dark novel, not everything is how it appears…
With flashbacks intricately woven throughout, BEFORE HE KNOCKS, serves as a heart-pounding dive into the mind of a madman and the victims he leaves in his wake.
Three years earlier…
On a tranquil summer evening in Western Massachusetts, a man sat alone outside a Dairy Queen.
The man had been sitting at the same paint-chipped picnic table for the past hour – maybe more; yet, there was neither a phone, nor book in his hands. Instead, he held only a large shake that he so patiently sipped. And as the man sipped his frothy, iceless shake, he watched. But his attention was not on the birds chirping in the trees or the young couple by the counter, ordering their meal. No, instead the man’s wandering eye was on her.
Only her…
Through the narrow, plexiglass window, Denise Graham glanced outside and shuddered. This was the tenth time she’d caught the man’s troubling stare through the glass and there seemed to be no escape. Whether she was by the kitchen or near the fridge, like a hungry lion scouring the Serengeti for that first drop of blood, the man’s unrelenting gaze continued to stalk her.
Meanwhile, one window over, Denise’s friend Rachel, turned casually towards her boss. Rachel had just handed the young couple their meal, but instead of complaining, like she usually did at that hour, the confident blonde simply smiled.
“Hey Denny, so you still cool with me leaving a little early tonight?”
Denise rolled her eyes. “What’s it this time?”
“Oh, don’t give me that!” Rachel scoffed. “I told you earlier. I got that date with Tom tonight and I’m really not trying to smell like sour milk.”
“I’ll think about it.” And that wasn’t just lip service. Ever since Denise had been given the new manager position, she’d been trying to cut her staff a break when she could; hoping it might make her a little less hated than the last guy. Who’d been dubbed, Asshole Eddie, by the rest of the staff. “In the meantime,” said Denise. “Has everyone outside been taken care of?”
Unlike some of the larger Dairy Queens with indoor seating, their little restaurant, on the quiet, tree-lined street, a stone’s throw South of Springfield, only had a pickup window. Which they made up for with a few picnic tables outside. That had been arranged between the parking lot and the woods, for people to enjoy a quaint taste of nature with their reasonably priced shake.
“Well, they just ordered,” said Rachel, pointing to the couple she had just served, who were now taking their seats. “So, they’re good, but I don’t remember serving that guy.”
Denise knew she didn't have to look, but she did anyway and followed Rachel’s finger to the strange man at the far table, still milking his shake. It was the same man who’d been ogling Denise all evening, but it wasn't the unwanted attention that made Denise wary.
His whole outfit confused her.
Not only was his Red Sox hat pulled suspiciously low, like he was trying to keep his identity a secret, the man also had a surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face. Maybe a year ago, this would've been normal, but the Covid shots had been out for a while now and he was also seated outside – in the fresh New England air. So, for him to dress like that, made little sense. Unless… He had something to hide.
“Honestly, I’m surprised he’s still here," said Denise, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice. “I served him like an hour ago.”
“That’s weird,” said Rachel, shrugging it off, like one would do to a vague comment about the weather.
“Oh, you think that’s weird? Guess what he ordered?”
“What?” Rachel’s ears immediately perked up. One of their favorite hobbies was to gossip about customers; the more bizarre, the better, and Rachel especially loved unusual orders. “Actually, let me guess,” said Rachel, twisting her long, flowing hair around her finger. “I’d say hot chocolate in the middle of summer would be pretty sketch.”
“Worse,” said Denise. “The psycho actually ordered a milkshake… With no ice!”
The audacity of the order made Rachel’s eyes bulge as she nearly fell over laughing. “Wait, wait, hold up. So, what’d you end up giving him?”
“I didn’t know what to give him, so I just filtered out a vanilla milkshake and poured some warm milk in it.”
“That’s so sketchy! Ok, now he’s starting to creep me out as well.”
“I don’t know, I’m probably overthinking it. I’m sure he’s fine. I mean, aren’t we all a little weird sometimes?”
“No, I think that’s just you,” said Rachel, flicking her hair playfully across Denise’s face.
“You bitch!” Denise jabbed her finger into her friend’s ribs and continued to poke her, until Rachel was squealing against the wall, begging for mercy.
“Stop, I’m sorry! You win!”
“That’s what I thought.” Denise strutted victoriously across the floor as if she was queen of the castle. Once her victory lap was over, Denise stopped and casually nodded towards the door. “Alright, I guess I can let you leave a few minutes early, but only on one condition… You need to tell Tommy, and those cute dimples of his, I say hiiiii.”
“Oh, you little whore! I knew you had a thing for him.” Rachel smirked. “And here I was, thinking you preferred pimples over dimples.”
“Fuck you! Dylan is such a sweet guy.”
“With a pizza face like that, I’m sure he’s a saint,” said Rachel, throwing her hair into a bun as she grabbed her overpriced Armani sweater off the rack. “Alright, well I guess I’ll be taking off then and I know, now I owe you one.” But as Rachel started to make her way across their workstation, her eyes briefly landed on the lonely man outside and when they did, a sense of concern washed over them. “You know, if you want me to stay, I really don’t mind.”
“Don’t worry,” said Denise. “I’m a big girl. Go have fun.”
“You sure?” said Rachel. “Because that guy’s actually starting to scare me… Like seriously though.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Denise huffed. “I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with much bigger creeps than him.”
After a long, anxious pause, Rachel eventually conceded. “Alright, well I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
As tradition, the two girls leaned in and pecked each other on both cheeks, like two old Italian ladies at a dinner party, then exchanged a firm hug. Except tonight, Rachel lingered a moment longer than usual. Maybe it was intuition or maybe it was something else. Either way, Rachel could sense something was off. She could feel it in her bones, and proceeded to pull her friend close.
It took Denise a few seconds before she eventually wiggled out of her friend’s iron grip, but once she did, the two girls said their last goodbyes and Denise watched the door slam behind Rachel. Aside from climbing through the service window, the door was the only way in, so once Denise heard the lock click, her anxiety quickly dampened and instead of spending another minute worrying about the creep outside, Denise went back to her nightly duties.
Besides counting the money, being the manager also meant restocking the ice cream and their wide array of toppings. Luckily for Denise, only the Oreo crumbles and Gummy Bears needed to be filled, so without wasting anymore time, Denise grabbed the pillow-sized bag of gummies and began breaking the seal. Which always took a few tries, but before Dennis could rip the bag all the way open, a greasy fist banged against the glass.
Standing only inches from the window, was the man Denise had served earlier. Except now, like a doctor on break, the man had his surgical mask resting below his chin. So, when her subtle hesitation caused a sly grin to creep up his cheek, she sure as hell noticed.
“Hey there, Denise,” he said softly.
Denise arched her brow. “How do you know my name?”
“It’s right there on your shirt, silly,” he said, with the mere insinuation of wrongdoing causing the man’s smile to fade.
This was not the first time Denise had forgotten about the name tag. Nor was it the first time a man had tried staring through her shirt, like they had x-ray vision. Hence, why Denise kept her uniform especially baggy.
The extra attention was the last thing Denise needed. Especially when the majority of her admirers were the old, creepy type, like the pale-faced man standing before her. Who looked like he wore SPF 50 into the shower. Over the years, Denise had gotten quite adept at spotting them. For example, they’d usually have their ring finger tucked into their pocket and they almost always carried the same bashful smirk, like the men knew how erroneous their actions would be perceived. Yet, with this man, Denise sensed there was something more behind the mask. Not only was there no ring on his finger, there was no tan line either, and on top of that, he appeared to carry an unusually benign attitude about him. Which at first glance, seemed almost purposeful.
“Oh yeah, I always forget I’m wearing one,” said Denise, noticing a smudge of chocolate on the bottom of her shirt as she glanced down at her tag.
“Looks like you got something there,” said the man, pointing out the stain, even though Denise had clearly already noticed it.
“Yeah, it’s just part of the job,” she muttered, walking across the kitchen for a damp towel.
While Denise dabbed the towel against her shirt, she could feel the man’s eyes. Which seemed to dance along her body, like she was giving him some dirty show against her will. So, when Denise eventually turned and caught his relentless gaze red handed, she scowled back.
“So, you going to order something or just ogle me all night?”
The man’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” he hissed. “I’m still waiting for you to ask.”
“Ask what?”
“For my order.” The man shook his head as if awed by the assertion. “This generation. A man can’t even be polite anymore, without being called a creep.”
“No, no, you’re right. I completely forgot,” said Denise, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “What would you like?”
“Another milkshake,” he grumbled. with a heavy dose of animosity in his tone. “But this time, really hold the ice.”
“I don’t get it. So, you just want a warm cup of milk?”
“Did I say that? No!” The man glared. “Just no ice.” But no sooner had Denise grabbed the cup, the man’s seedy grin had reappeared. Only this time it felt forced, or even possibly rehearsed. “You know, not trying to come across too forward here, but if you want, I’d be happy to come back there and show you how to –”
“No!” Denise practically screamed. “I’m good.”
“Woah there, Sweetheart. No need to yell.”
“Sorry, that came out wrong. It’s just that my boss has a firm rule against allowing customers back here. But don’t worry, I’ll go make you that now.”
Without missing a beat, Denise scurried around the wall (which divided the back kitchen from the serving area) and grabbed the milk and cream from the fridge. The only problem was, with how the barrier was built, it also left her view of the window completely blocked. Which meant, for all she knew, the man might’ve creeped around the side and could be trying to break in at that very moment.
That’s when an eerie thought crept into Denise’s head:
What if Rachel had not locked the door properly?
It wouldn’t have been the first time. The door jammed almost daily and the owner, who was even too cheap to buy extra uniforms, didn’t give a damn. Which meant just to get the lock to work, the staff had to practically body slam the rusted slab of metal into place and even then, it was still a maybe. With this in mind, Denise grabbed the full cup of milk-cream, or whatever you’d call it, and covertly snuck around the backside of the wall to check for herself.
Thankfully, the door was locked, but just as Denise started to step away, a raspy voice tickled her ear.
“Always good to be cautious…”
Denise froze.
The man’s soulless voice seemed to come from inside the kitchen. So close, it was as if he was standing only a few yards away, simply waiting for her to turn, and when Denise finally did, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The kitchen was empty. Well, not exactly empty…
Her admirer’s giant head was hanging through the kitchen window. Which in retrospect might not have seemed like much, but for Denise, it was almost just as traumatic. Because it meant the metaphorical barrier between them had crumbled, and worst of all, his body fit much easier than she would’ve expected. Based on the width of his shoulders, jumping through the window now appeared possible and the very thought of it, left Denise petrified.
Not only that, the young couple, who had been the only other customers at the store and the only thing keeping Denise from having a complete panic attack, were now gone. It appeared they had left while Denise was making that stupid milkshake. So, not only was Denise alone and she knew the chance of another customer coming to the store at this hour was slim to none. Given how remote they were, even a passing car was unlikely.
Still, Denise tried her best to appear unfazed and not completely mortified, as she handed the man his drink.
“That’ll be five dollars,” she mumbled, reluctantly taking the money from his outstretched hand. Which, like the time before, was purposely paid in cash.
Denise had originally considered giving him the shake for free, as an apology for earlier, but had quickly changed her mind. Denise knew how delusional men could be, especially when it came to processing situations, and the last thing Denise needed right now was to cause an unwarranted invitation. So, once her admirer had stepped away with his drink, she quickly relocked the window. A window, that at the end of the day, was only a thin piece of fake glass. That wouldn’t stand a chance against a brick or even a solid right hook if the man actually tried to break in. So, the idea it was locked didn’t exactly bring Denise much relief. Especially, as she watched her admirer grab something from his truck.
What he grabbed, Denise wasn’t sure. From where she was standing, it looked like an old walkie talkie, but unlike a regular radio, it had two (possibly three) large antennas sticking out from the top. So, a police-issued transponder came to mind, but why this strange man would have one of those, also wasn’t clear. And the situation only seemed to get weirder as the man walked slowly back through the darkness to the same pant-chipped picnic table. Where he then, yet again, kept his half-dead eyes pointed directly at her.
This was Denise’s final straw.
According to her phone, it was 8:20 p.m., which meant in ten minutes the store would close and it would be time for Denise to leave, but there was one tiny problem:
Her admirer knew that as well.
They had their hours taped to the glass (next to the menus) and with the man showing no signs of leaving, Denise saw no other choice but to call the cops. With the phone in hand, Denise started to dial those infamous three numbers, when she suddenly stopped.
She realized she had no idea what to say…
Last time she checked, there was no law against eating alone and it’s not like the man had touched or harassed her in any way; at least, not yet…
After stewing over her options, Denise eventually decided to call her mother. Who was always the first-person she’d go to for advice. No sooner had the phone started to ring though, the call was abruptly stopped. Which made little sense, since they always had service there and never once had a call been randomly disconnected.
Despite the setback, Denise tried to stay positive and instead of trying her mother again, she threw her hesitancy aside and went back to her original idea: To call the police. Who could accept the call no matter what – service or not.
Like before, Denise dialed the number and saw the call go through, but after only two rings, the call was abruptly dropped yet again.
It was clear something very suspicious was happening, but Denise had no idea what to do. If the man was, in fact, stalking her, he’d be expecting her to leave in ten minutes. When the restaurant closed and probably not a minute sooner. After all, anyone with eyes could see she was shaking through her shoes. While as for the call, it might’ve dropped, but at least the man had seen her make it. So, for all he knew, she was hunkering down until help arrived.
Which gave Denise her opening.
It wasn’t like she could just tunnel out though. The man’s cold, dead eyes were still glued to the serving window, so the only option Denise really had was the door. A door which just so happened to be positioned on the opposite side of the building from where the man was waiting. So, after a minute of plotting out her half-hazard plan, Denise went to work:
First, she grabbed the half-empty bag of gummy bears she was carrying earlier and ducked behind the dividing wall - out of his line of vision – to make it appear as if she was finishing her nightly tasks. In reality though, she had gone straight to the light switch. Only instead of flicking the lights off and using the darkness as a disguise, Denise turned on all the lights; including the floodlight outside. This way, any light that might escape through the open door would be dampened. Thus, lowering the chance of her being exposed.
Then there was the actual door itself, which led out to the paved side lot. That only the employees and delivery drivers used to access the parking around back.
The door had only been cracked a smidge. Just wide enough for Denise to delicately squeeze her body through and step onto the side lot – seemingly undetected. But just when Denise thought she was in the clear, she let the archaic door swing shut by mistake. She had been so preoccupied with the light, that Denise had completely forgotten about the door and when that heavy slab of metal slammed shut, the bang it made could’ve woken the dead.
Like a crack thunder as soon as Denise heard it, she jumped and knew there was no way her admirer didn’t hear it as well. But instead of waiting to find out, Denise was off. Like a bat out of hell, she sprinted to her car – parked about twenty yards from the door, behind the building – and as Denise ran, she frantically dug through her pockets. She had seen far too many horror movies to not have her keys ready.
Once they were in her hand and she felt the cool, leather seat slid under her butt, Denise quickly locked the sedan door behind her. She had made it to her car and for that brief moment, the relief soaked through her like a cool summer breeze. Until Denise stuck the key into the ignition.
The engine puttered twice. Only twice. Like the car had only awakened for one last pitiful farewell, before the muffled hum of a dying battery sang softly through her ears.
And just like that, her gallant escape had been foiled…
Denise leaned her head back and released a blood-curdling scream, as if there was actually someone there to listen – or care. Her hope was gone, but just before tears could flow down her face, five sausage-like fingers tapped rhythmically against her window.
Only as Denise turned, it wasn’t the hand she watched.
Rather, her attention was on the dark, bottomless eyes behind it. With only one look, the eyes spoke clearer than any God-given words ever could and they told Denise, her time had come. So, as the glass splintered between them and shards rained across her legs, Denise could only nod.
For she knew neither words, nor prayers, could save her. The novel that was her life had reached its end, and in that brief moment, before her book had yet to close, the only thing on Denise’s mind were all the blank pages that would be left unwritten.
The opening scene of Before He Knocks is immediately engaging, showing the abduction of one of the killer's victims from her own perspective and setting the tone of the story. In the following chapters, we are introduced to the two protagonists who for different reasons stand up to The Splinter, as the media has dubbed the man thought responsible for the brutal murders of young women and girls.
Izzy Hernandez is a middle-aged, divorced part-time sleuth who tries to help bring justice to the families of victims of violent crimes after tragically losing her own son. However, after being wrong about a suspect in a controversial way, she is no longer in the good graces of law enforcement and has difficulties finding a sympathetic ear for her suspicions about The Splinter.
Dom Driscol is trying to write the perfect thriller, but with only two vacation days left from his job as a magazine editor and a wife and daughter he has completely neglected, the creative juices are not exactly flowing. After he convinces himself to use some unconventional and dishonest "help" to get his debut novel off the ground, his life is changed by the attention he gets. Among other things, he gets the attention of Izzy, who thinks his twisted thriller contains vital clues to finding the killer who started abducting girls three years ago.
Both Izzy and Dom are complex and at least somewhat morally gray, with Dom being downright unlikable at the beginning of the story. Bringing them together results in an unlikely, funny and iconic crime-fighting duo as the two reluctantly start working together to figure out how the killer's manifesto could help them catch him and hopefully return the latest victim to her family alive. The two start following clue after clue, leading them through the darkest and seediest parts of town and closer to a shady group of young men who seem to be following a dark mentor figure. And he is interested in a perverted kind of collaboration with someone who can understand his dark urges.
As they investigate the case, both Dom and Izzy have to reevaluate their priorities, come to terms with some unsavory parts of their pasts, and find some closure and peace not only for the victims' families, but also for themselves. Placing the two big interviews Dom did on national television towards the beginning and towards the end of the book is a great narrative move, because it allows for direct comparison of how things started for Dom and where he ended up.
There are still some edits that could be done to improve the flow of the sentences, as well as some spelling and comma placement issues. On the other hand, some lines and turns of phrase the characters say are so incredibly inspired and unique (no spoilers, but I'm still laughing at what Dom calls Sid in front of the biker bar). The same could be said of the banter between the characters - it does fall a little flat in very few instances, but most of the time it's quite funny and flows naturally.
There are two major pillars that elevate the book within its genre, and both of them have to do with how character-driven the story is. The first one are the scenes from the perspective of the victims, which emphasize their humanity and give them a voice. The impact Becca's abduction has on her father is especially moving. The second is the unlikely sleuthing duo of Izzy and Dom, their character arcs and the friendship they end up forming. These two elements are a great counterbalance to the brutality of the killer and his twisted philosophy. The supporting characters are also interesting and layered, and the author clearly knows how to have fun with them, especially in scenes where our two sleuths need more information.
The action scenes are mostly easy to follow and flow well, and the parts that are written from the killer's perspective are particularly chilling. Having the investigation done by sleuths who are not part of law enforcement and letting the readers draw their own conclusions about the killer's persona and motives from what we see of him as a character is a refreshing change of pace, as there is little theorizing about what makes him tick. This allows for more focus on the victims, which is a beautiful move in a genre that often only lets the killer and the investigators into the spotlight.