Red Riding Nineteen Seventy Four

‘The only thing new in this world is the
history you don’t know.’
– Harry S. Truman

school with two classmates at a quarter to four. At the junction of Rooms Lane and Victoria Road, Clare said goodbye to her friends and was last seen walki

They got sweet FA.’
‘A quid says she’s dead if they got George on it.’
Khalid Aziz at the back, no sign of Jack.

Boy at last: Edward Dunford, North of

ow.’
‘Kelly?’ New Face again. National, not local. Lucky bastard. My nerves kicking in, the story going national, my story.
‘Rugby,’ said Tom from Bradford.
‘Union or League?’ said New Face, fucking Fleet Street for sure.

A side door opens, everything goes quiet, everything goes slow.

I pressed record on the Philips Pocket Memo as they took their seats behind the plastic-topped tables at the front, shuffling papers, touching glasses of water, looking anywhere but up.

Clare’s disappearance. Clare has never gone missing before and we are obviously very conc

‘Peace’s pump-action prose propels the book’s narrative with a scorching turn-of-speed to an apocalyptic denouement . . . One hell of a read’ Crime Time

I keep it close.