RIP - Caller Unknown by Gillian McAllister

Caller Unknown

Gillian McAllister

Copyright 2026

340 Pages

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I have to start with a confession, friends: Caller Unknown was not my favorite Gillian McAllister moment. I was perched like a caffeinated raccoon waiting for her to feed me premium thriller scraps, and instead I got… whatever this was. The book flopped on me like a wet tortilla. Spoilers ahead, obviously.

The premise? Delicious. Daughter kidnapped, mom about to unleash her inner feral wolf. The possibilities were endless. But then Simone started making choices that had me whispering “girl, no” into the void every five pages. I spent the first third of the book wanting to gently shake her like an Etch‑A‑Sketch and hope her decision‑making skills reset.

We’re told we can’t go to the police because the kidnapper would know. Okay, fine, I’ll suspend disbelief. But then she calls her husband and gives him the entire plot rundown like she’s hosting a podcast. The kidnapper doesn’t magically sense THAT? At this point, call the cops, babe. Honestly, I’m still shocked hubby didn’t do it himself.

Then we get to the Mexico drug‑run portion of the program. Suddenly Simone is Dora the Explorer with a criminal side hustle. She just… figures out how to cross the border, pick up cocaine, and return undetected? Personally, I would still be Googling “how to not die in the desert” while crying into a cactus.

Lucy returns (yay!), but now we have to go into hiding because “the police won’t believe us.” I’m sorry, WHAT. There is evidence. There is technology. There are literal experts whose entire job is “finding out what happened.” Instead, we go hide in the middle of nowhere until we WALK to a tiny town that probably has one bar, one church, and a single sad vending machine.

And in this dusty little hamlet, we stumble upon Lawyer McPlotDevice — a random attorney who is somehow the exact person we need, believes everything instantly, and works pro bono because… destiny? Fate? Boredom? I don’t know. But my eyebrow was raised so high it left orbit.

The ending does finally slap a little. The corrupt Border Patrol agent reveal? Good. Simone blackmailing her into confessing? Even better. Big Mom Energy achieved. But still… everything felt like the plot was on wheels and someone forgot to install brakes.

So Gillian, my beloved, my thriller queen, I’m giving this one 3 stars. Not your finest, but I’m not mad. They can’t all be Michelin‑star masterpieces. I’ll be here, claws sharpened, ready for the next one.