Marty Cook got out of his Mini Cooper, locked up the car and, with Sisyphean resignation, slowly trudged up the hill. He shivered and pulled his long black overcoat close to him. His short breaths appeared in front of him like spectres. The moonlight oozed across the city’s dank cobblestones like quicksilver; creeping between the […]

Read More “No One Is Innocent” by Paul D. Brazill