"You in on this too?" I asked Erica once we were outside.

"In on what?"

"Dutton knows," I said. "He set me up."

"If that's true, then that shithead set me up too." She clenched her teeth, then said, "Maybe the teacher's lying?"

But we both knew that wasn't the case.

I punched Dutton's number into my Airwave handset.

"The hell are you playing at?" I asked when he answered.

"Found wee Bruce yet?" He chuckled. "Sorry. I couldn't find that photo after all."

"Dutton," I said. "You're an utter disgrace."

"Any decent detective would have found out about the kid long before now."

I hung up. "I'm going to kick his head in," I said to Erica.

"Not if I get to him first," she said.

"Where are we going?" Erica asked me a couple of minutes later in the car.

"To talk to Mrs Wilson," I said.

"What about Dutton?"

"I need to calm down." I gripped the steering wheel. "He can wait."

"Don't go stomping all over this," Erica said as we stood at Mrs Wilson's front door.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Be gentle with her."

I banged my fist on the door. Repeatedly. There was a bell, but screw that. I liked the pounding noise. "Mrs Wilson?" I shouted. "Mrs Wilson!"

"Collins!" Erica grabbed my arm.

I clamped my jaw shut, pulled my wrist from her grasp and pounded on the door some more. Eventually Mrs Wilson opened it.

I stared at her, wondering what the hell went on inside her head. I said, "Can we come in?" I could smell the drink off her.