Note: Due to the close connection between storylines, there are partial spoilers relating to the outcome of Episode II in this review.

It’s been a while since we met up with Detective James Burton. Last time we saw him, he was standing alone in his home, a mysterious painting clutched in his hands and a failed case weighing on his shoulders. Prior to that moment, the Casebook series had us silently partnered with Burton during the investigations of the Birchermann children’s kidnapping and the suicide/homicide of Francis Salt at the Skylark Apartments. During these inquiries, we got to know him fairly well: he may have been a tough investigator, sometimes prone to extreme measures, but he believed in the law, in doing things by the book.

When we first see Burton in Episode III - Snake in the Grass, he’s different, and there’s an unhealthy spark in his eyes. What happened? What transformed Burton into a vengeance-obsessed detective ready to lie to his superiors, steal evidence and sneak into crime scenes outside his jurisdiction? Marlon Hapman happened. The primary suspect from the Skylark case was a painter, a chemist, a gardener and a ruthless murderer who liked to use the blood of his victims for his landscapes, but somehow Hapman escaped justice thanks to a cast-iron alibi, and Burton has spent the last few months tracking him down. Finally, he’s located Hapman in a small town named Garden, and doesn’t hesitate to call back his old partner to help him nail this killer once and for all.

The new adventure opens with a nice recap for newcomers, though I strongly recommend playing the series in order for more immersive continuity. Shorter than the second installment, this episode soon proves to be another a solid mystery story filled with clever red herrings and ambiguous characters, enriched by a thick, often unnerving atmosphere, and very subtle writing in which Biblical metaphors seamlessly coexist with pop-culture references and deeply emotional, dramatic moments. Henry Feltham, the writer of the series, has really outdone himself, delivering a cunning, deceptive script that will leave players pondering and suspicious until the very end. It’s a script that makes the already labyrinthine Episode II – The Watcher look like a nice stroll in the park.

If you are familiar with David Lynch’s masterpiece Twin Peaks, you will instantly feel a familiar vibe from the happy town of Garden. This is a town where the trees are tall and green and everyone seems joyful beyond measure, a place described as a paradise where one can find peace and redemption. But is it? Like Peyton Place and Twin Peaks before it, Garden hides its sins very well, yet one can feel the corruption flowing under the shining surface, behind the wooden façades of the pastel houses, beneath the beautifully-tended rose gardens. And when an altar boy slaughters the town’s watchmaker and claims that God commanded it, both you and Burton will have to face a town capable of anything to protect its secrets, including a sheriff who doesn’t like external interference and even an old priest who believes he can talk to God.

The most intriguing feature of this new chapter, though, is that Burton is convinced Hapman’s hand is behind this murder, while Dr. Anja Nilsson – the new lab technician who replaces our old pal Pete after his promotion – can’t help but notice that all the clues you find point in a whole other direction. Is Hapman really that great a mastermind? Did he really plan everything so that the guilt would fall entirely upon the boy? Or is Burton too blinded by his own pride and personal crusade to see that Hapman is innocent? Players must constantly deal with these doubts, and the real fun comes when Burton and Nilsson draw totally different conclusions from the same evidence, forcing us to think for ourselves and shape our own theory.

In fact, Areo did such an amazing job with the script and the characters that during the course of the investigation, I suspected each and every one of them at least once. I took many notes, both during the various interrogations and the scientific analyses, and every time I sifted through them, I came up with some new theory, confident that it was the real deal, only to find myself once again taken aback by the next revelation. Right until the last interactive crime scene, I was really unsure about where the investigation was going, but when the truth was finally revealed, every piece fell right into place and I slapped myself for not seeing it from the beginning.

What didn’t surprise me at all is the outstanding quality of the FMV direction. As the game progresses, the direction changes according to the tone of the investigation, and the early panoramic shots of Garden make way for close-ups of slightly unsettling details, like a cross hanging askew on a wall or a stone covered in dirt and blood. The city that seems so bucolic and peaceful at the start of the adventure will appear much different by the end under a totally new light. The editing and the cinematography are as good as the direction: long, uninterrupted takes, steadycams and montage sequences make for a thrilling experience, and the dimly-lit locales, like a shabby church or a filthy shed, convey a decidedly gloomy atmosphere.

An honorable mention must go to the visualizations of Burton’s theories when the detective tries to piece together the various clues. These sequences make great use of wide lens, slow motion and distortion effects, and a grainy film that stems right from classic Noir movies, and they are bound to send a few shivers down your spine. I felt uneasy watching the primary suspect covered in blood, kneeling beside a well-tended garden and making the sign of the cross, while an overcast sky unnaturally prolonged the trees’ shadows. The music, of course, plays its part in building an effective ambiance, and while the main theme of the series makes a welcome return, the new orchestrations are the best Casebook has seen so far, with spooky drums and screeching, heart-pounding electronic sounds.