It's refreshing to read a crime novel where the lead character exposes criminals because she cares about their victims. You'll like Trish: she is as normal as you could wish for and it makes the situations she copes with all the more threatening.
After breakfast next morning Trish listened to David crashing down the iron staircase to street level, making as much noise as someone twice his height and weight. The days of trying to be inconspicuous so that no one would notice him had obviously gone for good.
Pride in him led her to imagine what Jane Marton must have felt when she was faced with her nineteen-year-old son's confession that he had bombed a busload of children. What could it be like to give birth and watch your son grow, teaching him everything you wished you'd known as a child, trying to give him everything you'd ever wanted, and then learning that he was responsible for something like that?