The Overnight Guest

“‘It’s okay,’ her mother said gently. ‘You can eat it. It’s from the Easter Bunny, not your dad.’”

This moment marks the first clear inkling that something disturbing is happening in the little girl’s narrative. The strange moments prior to this one could be contributed to weather or poverty, but this comment by the mother makes a clear distinction between what is “okay” and what is not, aligning wrongness with the girl’s father. This comment thereby establishes the alliances at work in the basement and identifies the father figure as someone malicious, foreshadowing his later cruelties.

“Summers were made up of hard work and hard play. Farm kids rode with their fathers high on tractors during planting season, played in haylofts, and went fishing after chores were done. Little girls spent nine months of the school year learning that they could grow up to be doctors and lawyers but still came home and helped mothers and grandmothers can butter pickles and rhubarb jelly. They hand-fed orphaned goats, read books behind the corncrib, ice-skated on Burden Creek, and played tag by leaping from hay bale to hay bale.”

This description is one of the narrative’s rare moments of omniscience, giving a more global view of the inhabitants of Burden and rural Iowa. While the descriptions are idyllic, there are also snippets of the darker truths: an inherent expectation of domesticity being one of the predominant considerations.

“She ran to the kitchen. Her broken cell phone lay on the counter, useless. Wylie turned to the landline, picked up the receiver, and was met with silence.”

With the winter storm beginning, Wylie’s inability to communicate with the outside world mirrors her inability to emotionally connect with others, ushering in the theme of Entrapment and Freedom. Her isolation intensifies as the circumstances of the storm escalate, becoming a physical obstacle she must navigate to ensure her safety.

“The stars felt so close. Like a pile of jacks to be scooped up in her palm. A fistful of stars. In that moment, such a thing didn’t seem impossible. […] It was as if they were little again when nothing mattered except for that very moment when being with your best friend was enough. There were no worries about boys and family arguments and growing up. Josie smiled and let the easiness of it all flow over her.”

This moment of reflection punctuates young Wylie’s last moment of childhood happiness before the death of her family members and the loss of her best friend. Her reflection is a paradox, simultaneously hopeful for the future and resistant toward change. The unfortunate irony here is that her life is about to undergo an irreversible, tragic change, cutting short the future she imagined.

“Wylie considered backtracking. She was good at leaving. That was something she knew how to do. This was different, though. No one was dying back home. Her teenage son, Seth, was still furious at Wylie for trying to lay down the law and wasn’t missing her one bit. He was in good hands with his father.”

Although the time between her family’s death and the present day is never fully explored, Wylie provides some insight into the ways her trauma has manifested. Her difficulty committing to others and her tendency to flee tough situations both showcase The Different Impacts of Trauma. Additionally, she reveals her low self-image by highlighting her belief that her son is better off without her, suggesting that she thinks of herself as a bad or at least ineffective parent.

“If he had run the license plate, he would have seen that Brock Cutter had a suspended license and a bench warrant for a failure to appear for a court date related to a harassment case over in Kossuth County. He would have learned that Brock Cutter wasn’t as innocent and good-natured as his cousin, Brett.”

Gudenkauf provides one of the novel’s first red herrings in her depiction of Brock Cutter. The reader has already seen Brock engage in teenaged rebellion, but this insight is the first indication that Brock’s behavior has also broken the law. By sharing these details, the narrator prompts the reader to view Brock as having a deeper malice than initially displayed. Further, the officer’s interactions with Brock showcase the sense of community amongst small-town citizens; because Levi knows Brett, he is more willing to forgive Brock’s behavior, a decision that he ultimately comes to regret.

“‘I let go of Becky’s hand,’ Josie said as if in a daze. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.’”

In her childhood, Wylie (then going by Josie) acted on instinct in a moment directly related to Sacrifices and Survival. In fleeing the then-unknown assailant, she also left Becky behind, abandoning her friend in trying to save her own life. This instinct for self-preservation becomes Wylie’s lifelong regret, haunting her and preventing her from healing from her trauma. She internalizes blame that leaks into all her relationships, making her feel “undeserving.”. This belief becomes one of adult Wylie’s defining characteristics and a major obstacle for her to overcome.

“The blackest dark came in the middle of the night. It was warm and velvety and sounded like her mother’s breathing right next to her.

It isn’t the dark you should be afraid of, the girl thought, it’s the monsters who step into the light that you need to fear.”

The little girl’s perception of darkness is a direct contrast to Wylie’s and is meant to represent their different experiences of the world and trauma. The girl has learned to fear the light because she associates the light with her father. In line with the theme of The Different Impacts of Trauma, the novel highlights here how there are no universal comforts.

“‘I need you to put a call in to the state police,’ Butler said, turning his attention to Levi. ‘Tell them we need some agents here ASAP.’ He mopped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. ‘And tell them to bring the search dogs. We’ve got two dead bodies, two missing kids, and we’re going to need all the help we can get.’”

Gudenkauf disrupts expectations of the thriller genre by having the local police immediately reach out to the state police, initiating a collaboration instead of resenting authoritative shifts. This action confirms Butler’s dedication to serving his community and his genuine concern for Becky and Ethan’s well-being. Gudenkauf also foreshadows the heat-related complications of the case here by underscoring how the officers are struggling with the temperature, connecting their physical discomfort with the physical ambiguity of evidence tampered with by heat.

“Wylie had never needed them [the flashlights] before, and her pulse quickened at the thought of being plunged into blackness even in a place she knew so well. If there was light, everything would be okay, she thought.”

This moment provides a glimpse at the disconnect between who Wylie presents herself as and who she really is. Her initial assertion that she had rented a somewhat random farmhouse for six weeks directly contradicts her supposed comfort—or lack thereof, while staying in it. Wylie clearly has a deeper knowledge of this space than she initially implies. Paired with the expression of her fear of the dark, this moment foreshadows the revelation that she is the Josie of the past.

“Unsteadily, she sat down on the top step. She couldn’t catch her breath; the air wouldn’t fully enter her lungs. It was blocked by something that had lain dormant for years. Something black and oily slid into place and took hold.”

This moment in which Wylie is plunged into darkness builds on the earlier tension of Wylie’s initial fear, showing Wylie’s panic response in the face of darkness. Wylie’s fright manifests physically with descriptions that feel invasive. To Wylie, the presence of darkness is a violation of security, which in turn becomes a violation of self.

“The woman glared at Wylie, then glanced up at the staircase. ‘The man who is after us will do anything to get us back.’ She sat up a bit straighter and winced at the shift in position. ‘And I will do anything, and I mean anything,’ she said in a low, dangerous whisper, ‘to make sure that doesn’t happen. Even if I have to cut straight through you to do it.’”

Becky establishes the stakes of her escape, furthering the theme of Sacrifices and Survival as she underscores her willingness to do anything to ensure her and her daughter’s safety. For Becky, there can be no moral hesitations when it comes to ensuring survival; Becky’s readiness to commit violence shows how much she has changed from the person Wylie once knew. These changes contribute to the lack of recognition between them, as their respective traumas have morphed their understandings of the world.

“‘Then you should go out there and get some,’ the girl shot back. Her mother grew very quiet.

Out There. That’s what they called it. Don’t go Out There, her mother would say, your father will get mad, it’s not safe.

Her father would say, ‘There are bad people Out There. They will take you away from us, and you’ll never see your mother again.’”

The transformation of the outside world into “Out There” serves to distance the girl and her mother from the space beyond the basement. Out There becomes somewhere that must be traveled to, rather than an accessible area that is merely on the other side of a door, making this destination easier to characterize as dangerous or unhospitable. The way the adults speak about Out There is also revealing, as they discuss it in terms of potential punishment rather than potential rewards. The girl knows that Out There contains desirable and necessary things, like food, but the threats posed by it as a space make it frightening. This psychological layer of the abuse that Randy has inflicted upon Becky and her daughter Josie shows the extent of his power over them, emphasizing the figurative nature of their entrapment as well as its physical nature.

“Wincing in pain, her mother pushed herself up from the concrete floor and sat cross-legged, her back against the cold wall. The girl pressed the plate into her hands. ‘Just one bite,’ she urged. Her mother lifted the fork to her lips and with tears streaming down her face, began to eat.”

The girl and her mother experience a brief role reversal as Josie coaxes Becky to eat after being abused by Randy. Josie takes on a more mothering, guiding position while her mother becomes childlike, needing assurances and assistance. This moment is pivotal for Becky’s growing resolve to flee the basement, as it is confirmation that she and her daughter cannot survive if they remain.

“Josie looked at her grandmother, startled. They were going back to the house? She didn’t know if she could ever go back there. Josie thought of her bedroom and all her prized possessions. Her Discman and CDs. Her 4-H medals and collection of glass animal figurines that sat on the windowsill. An image of her father lying on her bedroom floor, face gone, flashed behind her eyes. Miserably, she looked to her grandmother.”

The juxtaposition between Josie’s belongings and the image of her dead father is used to highlight everything she has lost in such a short amount of time. She lingers on her treasured items because they are concrete; she can think about them and feel a sense of loss because they are physical. Her mourning of her loved ones, however, is much more complex. She does not give it the space it requires and instead avoids it, beginning the pattern of her lifelong lack of closure.

“Josie didn’t know how she could do it, knowing what had happened to them. Josie vowed to never step foot in that house ever again.”

Gudenkauf strategically uses details from Josie’s past to mislead the reader about who Wylie is, adding suspense and confusion to the already tense scenario unfolding at the house. The reader only receives clues as to Wylie’s true identity. As a result, the reader is likely to second-guess themselves and prolong the mystery.

“Wylie stared down at the woman’s battered face. One mistrustful brown eye looked back at her. Wylie looked down at her own hands, where a matching horseshoe-shaped scar, though less pronounced, marred her palm.”

This exchange confirms Becky and Wylie’s true identities through the use of permanent physical markers: Becky’s eye color and the scar they share. The scar itself is remarkable because it is a physical representation of how close their friendship was: it is associated with their declaration that they are “blood-sisters,” a self-inflicted mark made so that they could never deny their friendship or closeness. However, Becky’s scar is more visible than Wylie’s, which also symbolizes their relationship with the tragic events that separated them. Becky has been trapped in the trauma of that night for 20 years; her physical scar is mirrored by her physical entrapment. Wylie’s scar, however, is faded, showing that she has born the emotional burden of that night even though she spent time physically distancing herself from it.

“Then she began to write books about terrible crimes. Why? She never tried to analyze it too closely, but it made sense. The murder of her family and the kidnapping of her friend had never been officially solved so she would chronical the tragedies of others.”

Wylie examines her tendency to explore the lives of others and focus on violent crimes, an investigative stance stemming from her own lack of closure and the confusion she feels when remembering her own suffering. This thought underscores the importance of her decision to finally research her own family’s death, paired with her inability to feel content with the manuscript she has written. She is able to chronicle the lives of other people because she is not attached to their cases. Her own, however, haunts her so severely that she cannot make peace with it—until, of course, her reconciliation with Becky.

“Henley shook his head. ‘You won’t believe me. No one ever believes me.’”

In the past, Jackson struggles to articulate his lack of involvement with Becky’s disappearance; he does not try to tell his side of the story because he knows his reputation and history makes him an unreliable narrator. His words are as prophetic as they are mournful—he ultimately is proven correct. Wylie indeed goes through the rest of her life believing that Jackson played a role in the deaths of her family and the kidnapping of her best friend.

“Wylie also talked about how she had moved far away when she was twelve, became a writer, got married too young, and had a baby named Seth. ‘I never thought I’d get married,’ Wylie said. ‘Or have children.’ She glanced over at the girl, then said, ‘I didn’t think I deserved it after what had happened. But I miss my son. I miss Seth very much.’”

A very adult conversation is filtered through the eyes of a child as young Josie listens to her namesake tell her story. By having this conversation rooted in young Josie’s perspective, Gudenkauf shows the generational nature of trauma; although the three characters have all experienced vastly different outcomes of the same traumatic event, there is an undercurrent of understanding that binds them together.

“He bent over her, and Wylie could feel the heat of his breath on her face. She tried not to wince at the foul odor. He smelled of garlic and onions and something else. Fear, Wylie decided. Randy was afraid. His perfectly created world has been disrupted. Becky and the girl almost made it out.”

Prior to this moment, Randy is depicted as an infallible, malicious figure who has successfully evaded police detection while abusing Becky and Josie. Wylie’s realization here is that Randy is human and, therefore, capable of defeat. She knows that she can defeat him, shattering his “perfect” life and bringing him to justice. That Wylie is able to see his fear and not experience fear herself is a sign of her autonomy, proof that she is ready to gain closure.

“‘It was supposed to be you all along,’ Randy said, his voice weak but taunting. ‘Just you. But your family got in the way and Becky didn’t run as fast as you did.’”

This haunting moment showcases the depths of Randy’s depravity in that his plot all along was to eliminate the entire Doyle family, but for their young daughter, underscoring the premeditation of his crimes. This detail is the only one from the night of the murders that he tells Wylie; he refuses to answer any of her questions, instead taunting her with this concept. This revelation serves its purpose as an effort to disturb and distract her, deepening the guilt that Wylie feels about that night.

“‘He told us he had friends everywhere, and if we tried to get away, they would take us back,’ she [Becky] said shakily.”

Even after his death, Randy haunts Becky as she struggles to accept her newfound freedom. Becky’s insistence that her captor has people in the world who continue to threaten her is an extension of her entrapment, revealing how deeply Randy injured her psychologically to prevent her from fighting against him. The theme of Entrapment and Freedom applies even after Randy’s death, showing that despite Becky’s best efforts, she still has much recovery to do before she can consider herself fully free.