The Intruder by Freida McFadden – Book Review

During a violent storm in a remote woodland, Casey is riding out the night alone in her isolated cabin when she discovers a badly injured teenage girl hiding outside. The girl is armed, terrified, and clearly running from something — or someone. What follows is a tense, claustrophobic standoff where trust becomes dangerous, timelines blur, and the truth refuses to sit still. As the storm rages on, the novel peels back layers of past trauma and fractured perspective, forcing the reader to constantly reassess who the real threat is — and whether safety is ever what it appears to be.

This book was made to be read at night.

The Intruder opens in the middle of a storm — not as a gimmick, but as a mood-setter — and I loved it instantly. I’m a sucker for dark, stormy thrillers, especially when the weather outside mirrors the chaos on the page. I want to feel the rain, the isolation, the unease. McFadden nails that atmosphere early, and once it’s established, she doesn’t let it go.

This is only the second Freida McFadden book I’ve read (yes, I know — apparently I’ve been living under a rock). The Housemaid pulled me in hard, so I came into The Intruder with expectations. It’s a very different kind of read — quieter, slower, more contained — but still undeniably gripping.

Let’s talk about Casey. At first, I didn’t like her. At all. She’s prickly, emotionally distant, and not immediately sympathetic — and judging by some online reviews, I wasn’t alone in that reaction. But here’s where I disagree with a lot of the criticism: Casey isn’t poorly written. She’s intentionally uncomfortable. And over time, as the story unfolds, her behaviour starts to feel less “odd” and more psychologically consistent. She grew on me — not because she suddenly became warm or likeable, but because she became understandable.

I’ve seen readers complain about strange character behaviour and convenient coincidences. Personally, I don’t buy that argument. I think some readers got tangled up in the perspective shift — a technique McFadden uses deliberately and which, if you’re not used to it, can make earlier scenes feel “off” in hindsight. I read a lot of Clare Mackintosh, and if you’ve read I Let You Go, you’ll know exactly how powerful (and disorientating) this technique can be when done well. McFadden doesn’t over-explain it — she trusts the reader to catch up.

For me, the structure was one of the book’s biggest strengths. This is a slow burn, but it’s never dull. The tension simmers rather than explodes, and the short chapters keep you moving even when the pace is restrained. I’ll be honest — I did figure out the twist before it landed. The green lighter gave it away. (If you know… you know.) But predictability didn’t ruin the experience. In fact, it made me appreciate how carefully the clues were planted.

Thematically, The Intruder is about trust, survival, and the danger of assumptions. It asks uncomfortable questions: Who do we believe when we’re afraid? When does compassion become reckless? And how much does perspective shape what we think is “the truth”? The storm isn’t just weather — it’s a metaphor for emotional turmoil, fractured identity, and the chaos that comes when past trauma refuses to stay buried.

Is it a flashy, shock-every-five-pages thriller? No. And that’s exactly why it works. It’s restrained, tense, and psychologically driven. While it may not surpass The Housemaid for me, it absolutely confirms that McFadden knows how to construct a compelling, atmospheric thriller that rewards attention.

Final thoughts:

Dark, immersive, and quietly unsettling. A slow-burn thriller that trusts its reader and doesn’t spoon-feed its twists. I’m glad I read it — and I’ll definitely be reading more McFadden.

⭐ 4.5 out of 5