When I opened Swimming with Manatees, I expected a quiet story about nature and maybe a bit of reflection. What I found instead was a crime novel tangled in saltwater and shadows. At its heart, the book follows the mysterious death of April Seagram, discovered floating near manatees in Crystal Cove. Detectives Ava Martinez and Dan Riley dig into the case, which quickly grows beyond a single drowning. Propeller wounds, bruises, biker gangs, pharmaceutical secrets, and corporate greed all mix with the rhythm of a small Florida town. What starts with a body in the bay unfolds into a twisting investigation that pulls the detectives deeper into corruption and loss.

The writing is lush and alive, especially in the opening scenes with the water and wildlife. Bennett knows how to paint a picture that feels both beautiful and uneasy, the kind that makes your stomach tighten even when the sun is still shining. The dialogue between Ava and Dan crackles with wit and tension, and their partnership feels natural without falling into clichés. At the same time, the violence lands heavily. The murders are described with a blunt honesty that refuses to look away, which left me unsettled in the best possible way. It felt raw, relatable, and grounded, even when the plot veered into conspiracies about corporations and hidden labs.

Some chapters gave me whiplash, shifting from gorgeous descriptions of manatees drifting peacefully to gritty crime-scene details that almost felt like a sharp contrast. There were stretches where Ava’s inner thoughts circled the same worries. Still, I found myself forgiving those lulls because the characters kept pulling me back in. Ava’s grit, Dan’s warmth, Ben’s quiet steadiness, these weren’t just plot drivers, they felt like people I wanted to root for, even when tragedy hit hard.

Swimming with Manatees is more than a murder mystery. It’s a book about the thin line between beauty and brutality, about the way fragile places and fragile people can be scarred and still carry on. This book feels like a blend of Where the Crawdads Sing and Gone Girl, with the lush atmosphere of small-town nature writing wrapped tightly around the sharp edges of a murder mystery. I’d recommend it to readers who enjoy crime fiction layered with atmosphere and heart, especially those who like a story that isn’t afraid to linger in grief and still find something worth protecting.

Pages: 378