Peter Swanson, I have observed from reading Her Every Fear and now The Kind Worth Killing, is obsessed with his characters' background stories. I understand the importance of little flashbacks into a character's life, but abusing them to the point that they intercept with the story line is a letdown. That was what had taken place in Her Every Fear, resulting to a three-star review: Peter Swanson had tried too hard to develop his characters with little snippets of their pasts in between plot development. However, in The Kind Worth Killing, I am grateful that his obsessive-compulsive behavior over backstories took a few notches down. As the story opens, Swanson introduces us to Ted and Lily--then later on, a memory lane down Lily's childhood. These flips between the present and the past go on until the first quarter of the book; soon, it catches up with the present and things get thrilling from then on. 
 If there is anything, however, that Peter Swanson has an impressive knack at, it's the old-school atmosphere in his stories. I gather he has three novels to this day, one of which--The Girl with a Clock for a Heart--I haven't read yet, but is in my to-read list. Swanson can tell a story set in this very day and make it feel as though it were written in the early nineties. Sure, the first-person point of views, setting, speech are pretty contemporary, but anything else in Her Every Fear (whose third-person POVs make it feel way older) and The Kind Worth Killing seem old--cozy. 
 I relished every second of The Kind Worth Killing so much that I'm almost persuaded with what the book is trying to say: Justice is reasonable, hence it is also subjective. What is justice for someone, isn't justice for someone else; that although we have the Bureau of Standards to think for us, we have our own thinking minds for ourselves when we are wronged. This notion is dangerous, however; if people think this way a lot, crime rates will take an enormous ascent. 
 On the other hand, I have two concerns regarding this novel: first, the inexplicably ridiculously huge amount of mentions on leaves. What is up with Peter Swanson and dead leaves? I swear to Shakepeare, every--and I do mean every as every--chapter has leaves in it: Lily's feet would brush the leaves on the pavement. Leaves would scurry across the yard. Miranda would hear the crunch of leaves under her shoes. You name it. If this is some sort of allusion to something important, I don't get it. 
 Second concern: the ending. Although I admit that Lily Kintner is not the best fictional character in literature to look up to (I mean, we have Atticus Finch, right?), I still want her to have a happy ending; otherwise, what's the point? The last chapter left me hanging with questions: Does construction involve digging up really deep? Would groundbreaking discover things under the ground? And ultimately: Will Peter Swanson write a sequel? 
 The Kind Worth Killing is an achievement worthy of five stars.