As far as true crime books go, this is really well-written, for the most part. The overall narration is even-handed and well-paced (if you can say that about a nonfictional account of a murder investigation) and the many investigators, suspects, witnesses and family members are described and personalized well, so it's fairly easy to keep them all straight in your head as you make your way through the painstakingly detailed account of the search for Amy. It's not a quick read, but it's a good read; it's detailed without being gawking or sensationalist, and the inside-the-investigation perspective allows the book to explore the conflicts and difficulties of building a case in a missing-persons situation, and the impact of that process on investigators and the victim's family in a way that's pretty unusual.

The book also continues through the trial, with cogent explanations of the evidentiary issues and legal wrangling that goes on - the kind most people are never really aware of - in every criminal case, out of sight of the jury and the public. Loughlin and Flora are able to go into the reasons for choosing to leave in or leave out evidence or witnesses, and the reasons that evidence or witnesses can or can't be brought in to the trial. Disenchantment with the criminal justice system is evident, and so are the reasons for it, in ways that have never been made quite so clear to me.

All that said, the book occasionally lets Loughlin, who participated in the investigation, slip into first person recollections of conversations and events from the time of the investigation, and they're really pretty awful, characterized by wooden-sounding dialogue, cringe-worthy sentiments, and gratuitous machismo. These bits tend towards the maudlin, and they all feel stagy. The book would have been excellent without them; they interrupt the flow of an otherwise really compelling narrative, and don't do a thing to make Loughlin and the other investigatiors seem more human or likable. ( )