Normally I crash into crime series like a drunk aunt at a wedding reception, zero context, fully on book seven, nodding along like I know who “DI Crabapple” is and why his tragic divorce arc mattered in book four. But The Ice Angels is the first in a brand new series and listen, new year, new me, new emotional damage. I went in on the ground floor, and it paid off like finding a body in the snow that turns out to be... not dead. (That’s not a spoiler. It’s a vibe.)
This one’s got ice in its veins and fire in its heart. Finnish detective Elea Baker gets pulled into a string of child abductions in Lincoln, England, crimes that look an awful lot like what happened to her own daughter Liisa a decade ago. Yes, she’s still missing. Yes, Elea is still legally married to the British detective in charge of the case. And yes, this is going to be emotionally complex and full of tension so thick you could cut it with a snow shovel. It’s "Nordic noir" meets "This is fine" dog energy, but everyone’s wearing thermal coats and unresolved trauma.
And you better believe the audiobook slaps. Aryana Ramkhalawon’s narration doesn’t just tell you this story, she throws you into the deep end of it and locks the ice-covered door behind you. Her voice is sharp and intentional, landing every clipped Elea line with that deadpan precision of a woman who has no time for your nonsense because she’s got decades of grief duct-taped to her spine. She switches tone and accent with eerie effortlessness, moving from the bleak quiet of a traumatized child to the rumbling chaos of police briefings like it’s nothing.
Elea herself is pure chaos in a parka. She’s not soft, she’s not warm, she’s not “likable” in the traditional sense... and I loved her. She’s the kind of detective who will absolutely threaten to burn a suspect’s life to the ground with zero backup and no legal standing. She’s rage-fueled competence personified. And Ramkhalawon gets that, the raw, exhausted fury under the surface, and makes you feel it. Elea's spiraling, but she’s spiraling with purpose.
The dual POV between Elea and Liisa was gutting in the best possible way. Every time Liisa’s chapters came on, I braced myself. They are claustrophobic and chilling, both in content and narration. Ramkhalawon modulates just enough to sell you on a younger, trapped voice without sounding cartoonish. It’s subtle and it works. The tension doesn’t come from overacting, it comes from the dread crawling under every word. I was basically whispering “no no no no” into my AirPods like that would help.
Also, the not-quite-divorced dynamic between Elea and Swann? Honestly iconic. Swann has the energy of a man who still sets Elea’s name as “DO NOT ANSWER” in his phone, but answers every time anyway. Their conversations are emotional landmines wrapped in police jargon. The narration nails the awkward ex tension, where everything sounds professional but you know someone’s one bad coffee away from bringing up that fight they had in 2018. It’s petty. It’s painful. It’s compelling as hell.
And the setting? The cold practically creaks in your ears. Between Mitchell’s writing and Ramkhalawon’s pacing, the snow isn’t just atmospheric, it’s hostile. You can hear the wind. You can feel the silence stretching between characters when someone says the wrong thing. It’s immersive in that “I need to put on a sweater even though I’m in my heated kitchen” kind of way.
This book is layered and tense and absolutely freezing. I devoured it. It made me nervous to open my front door in winter. And now I’m emotionally attached to a woman who could probably break a man’s nose with a single glare and call it "standard procedure."
Four stars. If this is the start of a new series, I will absolutely be showing up for book two like a groupie with a badge.
Whodunity Award: For Making Me Emotionally Sweaty in a Book Set Entirely in Snow
Huge thanks to RBmedia and NetGalley for the advanced listening copy. I don’t know what kind of algorithmic witchcraft matched me with a frozen trauma procedural narrated like a prestige drama, but you nailed it. I now fear snow, trust no one, and will be emotionally unavailable until book two.