I said, "You decided yet?" If Dutton was waiting for me to beg, he'd have a long wait.

We stared at each other for a while. Then he said, "Don't make me regret this," and handed over the address. "The mother's spoken to Uniform. I'll get her statement. Fill you in over the radio."

"I can speak to them when I get there."

"I've already sent them door to door. Need all the bodies we can get out looking for the kid." He pointed his pen at me. "One other thing. Won't be a Family Liaison officer free for about an hour. You better take a female passenger with you."

"You left the mother on her own?"

"She picked a bad day to lose her son," he said. "But she knows we're on the way. She'll be fine." He pushed his chair back, gave himself just enough leg-room to get to his feet. "Now bugger off and show me what you can do."

2

The Scottish police do almost everything in pairs. You'd think we'd have partners like on the TV cop shows, but no, you find whoever's available and invite them along. In our office, we called them passengers.

The office where us lowly constables worked was open plan, blonde wood desks with foot-high partitions on legs that we all kept moving when nobody was looking. Everybody wanted that extra inch or two of desk space.

I glanced around, hoping to spot one of the female officers.

Hell, I didn't need to drag a woman along. I'd be fine with a bloke. Mother's lost her kid, we could deal with that. The mother would be upset, of course, and it'd be hard to begin with, but we'd manage.

Two of my male colleagues, detectives Moore and Temple, were in the kitchen area in the corner, making coffee.