In Becky Masterman’s debut novel, retired FBI agent Brigid Quinn is still haunted by the death of a young agent in a decade-old operation to capture the Route 66 serial killer. She blames herself for what happened, and even after settling down in Tucson, Arizona, years later, with new husband Carlo and a couple of pugs, the 59-year-old Quinn feels like an interloper on the set of “Normal Life.”

So when bureau agent Laura Coleman calls up to ask for assistance with a new lead in the case, Quinn is only too happy to help. Turns out Coleman has a confession from Floyd Lynch, who admits to being the Route 66 killer and leads authorities to a car containing an unidentified body mummified from years of desert heat. But Coleman doubts that Lynch actually committed the crimes he confesses to, and tries to convince a skeptical Quinn to join her in seeking out the truth.

However, the higher-ups at the FBI, the district attorney, and even Lynch’s defense lawyer are itching to pin this long-unsolved case on Lynch and move on. And so, as any reader of crime fiction knows, when the too-close- to-the-case detective ruffles feathers in nests above and is told by the brass to cool it, that’s exactly when the action starts to heat up. Coleman is summarily removed from the case, and it’s up to Quinn to continue an unofficial investigation for the true killer.

Masterman has a memorable character in Brigid Quinn, a strong, stubborn woman whose professional bravery contrasts with her unwillingness to let her husband see the darkness inside of her. In Rage Against the Dying, we see her struggling to come to terms with age, memory, and commitment. We also witness brutal attacks and macabre imagery—this is a thriller after all, and Masterman doesn’t shy away from the rage or the dying. Despite some clumsy structuring, Masterman’s debut manages to portray the consequences of burying the dead too deep in your heart.