First Frost (DI Jack Frost Prequel)
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R.D. Wingfield's unforgettable Jack Frost returns in this gripping prequel to the bestselling series. A Sunday Times Top 10 Bestseller.
Denton, 1981. Britain is in recession, the IRA is becoming increasingly active and the country's on alert for an outbreak of rabies. Detective Sergeant Jack Frost is working under his mentor and inspiration DI Bert Williams, and coping badly with his increasingly strained marriage. But DI Williams is nowhere to be seen. So when a 12-year-old girl goes missing from a department store changing room, DS Frost is put in charge of the investigation.
With a sinking feeling Frost had a good idea what was coming next. Though thorough and diligent, Hanlon wasn’t always as sharp and on his guard as he could be. ‘Rabies in Denton. Now, Jack, that’s a big scoop,’ said Lane smugly. ‘Of national interest.’ Frost said nothing. Reached for another smoke. Working out his line. ‘Care to comment?’ Frost knew the presses for tomorrow’s paper would have run by now, and that anything he said would be largely irrelevant. ‘What have you set in motion,
Clarke appeared in the CID office. ‘Briefing’s cancelled,’ Frost beamed. ‘Mullett’s still at County, leaving yours truly in charge, and I’ve got nothing useful to say.’ ‘Nothing new there, then,’ said Hanlon. ‘Better we press on, Arthur,’ said Frost. ‘What have you got?’ ‘An address for Lee Wright’s mother, Joan Dixon.’ ‘Already? You do work fast. Well, let’s go,’ said Frost, grabbing his mac. ‘Shouldn’t we inform Mullett?’ ‘No point wasting time,’ said Frost. Hanlon reached for his coat
violence and vandalism on the Southern Housing Estate? By all accounts, the man had been subjected to a vicious beating.’ ‘I don’t know where you get your information from, Mr Lane,’ said Mullett, fully aware of Winslow’s scrutinizing eye, ‘but we will let you know in due course. The investigation is in full swing.’ Still undeterred, Lane continued, ‘I mean, can you assure the Echo that the elderly population of Denton is safe? Only last month a pensioner was kicked to the ground and robbed, on
glass door crack him in the back. He and PC Baker had been standing on the street, in Market Square, just outside Woolworths. Simms spun round to see a skinny youth, with spiky yellow hair, trying to make a very quick exit. ‘Steady on, son.’ He grabbed the boy by his tracksuit top. ‘What’s the rush?’ ‘Late for school, aren’t I,’ the youth sneered. ‘By about six months,’ Simms said. It was that little tyke Kevin Jones, from the Southern Housing Estate, who, Simms was certain, had stopped
the middle of it, unarmed and without back-up. Seems Thorley wasn’t seeing things, after all.’ ‘Shit, of course!’ exclaimed Frost, turning towards the station exit. ‘Patterson, you better come with us. Sue can drive.’ Over his shoulder he yelled, ‘Bill, you alert Mullett, and see who you can rally and get on to Tactical. Direct them to Thorley’s lair.’ A terrific downpour forced Hanlon and Thorley to hurry straight inside the rickety old carriage. As the rain drummed on the roof, leaks spurting