A serial killer is at large in Plymouth and when Mary's elderly mother goes missing, it tips her over the edge. So this is a murder mystery, or is it? When Mary turns detective she is like a deranged Miss Marple; following her through the Devonshire landscape took me way beyond my comfort zone. An exceptional first novel.
Mary is constricted by fear. Panic grips her. Her heart throbs in her mouth as she looks ceaselessly for that familiar face, but she cannot see it. She paces from lounge to kitchen, to hall, to bedroom, to lounge again and on. The smell of her mother is here: talcum powder, and wash-in/wash-out dyes, and olives - but she is gone and there is no knowing where she is or if Mary is capable of finding her.