‘But whose bed, Sadie?’ demanded Frost.

Furiously, she turned to Skinner. ‘Do I have to put up with flaming insults like this?’

Frost answered for him. ‘Yes, you do, Sadie. You left that poor sod of a baby all alone in the house from around eight o’clock last night until you staggered back home, half pissed, still in your glad rags, just before you phoned to report him missing.’

She clawed her hands, looking ready to scratch his eyes out with her long, red-painted finger nails. ‘All bleeding lies. I’ll have you up for defamation of character. What sort of a bleeding mother do you think I am?’

Frost smiled sweetly. ‘I’m a policeman, Sadie, and we’re not allowed to use that sort of language, even to a slag like you.’ His expression changed. ‘Now stop sodding us about. I’ve got better bloody things to do. I’ve got a rapist to catch and bits of leg to find. I know. I know everything. I even know where your baby is at this precise moment in time.’

Sadie stared at him. ‘You know? I’m flaming worried sick and you know!’

‘Worried sick? You’ve been out all night. You didn’t give a sod about the kid. The poor little mite was screaming at four o’clock this morning. It woke up your next-door neighbour. He got out of bed, banged on your front door, then when he got no reply he climbed in through the kitchen window.’

‘The interfering bastard,’ she shrilled. ‘He can pay for that smashed crockery.’

‘He banged and shouted at your bedroom door, just in case you were spending the night in with the kiddy for a change. He looked inside. The bed was empty. The kid was screaming and throwing up, so he and his girlfriend took it to Denton General Hospital, from where I’ve just come. Your baby is there now.’

Sadie dropped down into a chair. ‘The bastards. They break into my house and take my kid. They don’t give a sod that I’d be worried sick.’