I’ll find you reviewing – have you seen Harlen Coben’s iconic look? You’ve seen them all Television

A Lever moans, pipe judders and thunk; Another length of premium grade bunkum is extruded from Harlan Coben Industrial Adaptation Complex™. This release – part of the eight-part punch and grunt that is I’ll Find You – is the 13th book of Coben’s books prepared by Netflix as part of a 14-book deal. Which means – the beat accelerates – there is only one left to go. On Netflix, at least. What the author is going through with Amazon shows that we may be in a constant state of entertainment games forever. May God have mercy on our lives.

Helpfully, Netflix has named its collection of adaptations “The Harlan Coben Collection”, which makes them sound like the ceramic sculptures advertised on the back of Sunday extras: Regency belles, say, or dogs dressed as detectives. Surprise your family by collecting them all! Alternatively, watch just one – any other – of these transformations and rest in the knowledge that you’ve seen them all, and therefore no longer have to worry about respectable actors who have remained straight while delivering lines of the “The past never changes. Until one day it does” type.

I’ll find you, then. The point is this, as usual: someone is missing. Someone is being accused of a crime they did not commit. The cops are reckless and/or corrupt, there are plenty of cheap costumes, and everyone from the stoic hero to the baddie talks. Like this. Means urgency. And gravitas. Where it just feels like. They just came back. Zumba.

In a surprising break with Netflix-Coben tradition, I Find You is not set in Europe but in the US, which means the break comes with big guns and the subtitles shout things like BOSTON and not LONDON, ENGLAND. In any case, however, I’ll get you a Coben in short, which is to say: a strange looking insanity with bells.

Then there is David Burroughs (Sam Worthington), a crippled man who is serving a life sentence in a Maine prison for killing his son. And yet he is innocent. Innocent heard? But no one believes that our unshaven hero spends his days fearlessly beating fellow prisoners while in a self-deprecating mood (“A father’s job is to protect his son from harm. I failed,” etc.).

Until! Former sister-in-law – and disgraced investigative reporter – Rachel Mills (Britt “Severance” Lower) comes up with a recent photo of a youngster who looks like… not. Of course not. But yes. It seems that David’s son did not die. “If there’s a chance… and Rachel… . . with . . .

And there we are, bustin’ outta prison in the governor’s Toyota Testosterone (included) and straight into what Rachel’s former editor calls “the story of a lifetime!” He’s wrong, yes (it’s a story of eight 40-minute episodes including commercials), but there’s enough “gas” in the tank to ensure a fun ride for all.

Little by little, a global conspiracy is unfolding and David and Rachel are looking past their noses to avoid questions: Where is David’s son? If it wasn’t Matthew who was killed, who was it? And who is the puppet master that everyone from the warden to the benevolent boss keeps sending secret notes?

As a result? Clear clothes. The labels are made of Play-Doh and the ones we play with are food animals pinned to the washing line. And yet we must – we must! – find out what’s going on. And so we stagger, bewildered, into the next section. And the part after that. So many red herrings, stories of cul-de-sacs and splutter pits later, we are put at the end of another Coben adaptation with no memory of how we got there. Disrupt it! It’s 13 down, one (??) to go. Stay strong, everyone.