I may not know anything about mystery, but I know terrible writing when I see one. Ingrid is one of the most one-dimensional characters I’ve ever encountered. She’s thirteen (or eleven – I may be confusing her with another character of a book I recently read), but she doesn’t sound like one at all. I find it really hard to relate to her the way I could easily relate to other female protagonists in a juvenile novel. I’m not even sure if this book qualified to be a juvenile novel (my library marks it as one). You can definitely tell that the narrative is written by an adult male who has no idea how it’s like to be a teenage girl. This book should probably be a book for adults about children, or something. I may appreciate it when I’m older, but not now.