Swinging London in 1967. A man approaches the now middle-aged Daisy and makes demands she cannot ignore. He is a desperate father whose fifteen-year-old daughter—a hippie girl—has disappeared without a trace a year before. The police are powerless, or indifferent, or both. “You must help me to find her, Daisy Hayes. And you know why I’m asking you? It’s because I know that you’re a real killer.”
This is not so much a crime mystery as a thriller. And thrillers can be brutal. Be warned. On the other hand, most thrillers are also morality tales at heart, and so is this one.
