I ran my thumb over my chin.

"I asked him if he was growing a beard." She started pacing around the bedroom. "He was already stressed out. Rough day at work with a major client. I didn't realise how stressed he was until he told me to shut up. Told me to stop nagging him." She was walking up and down, pumping her fists. "That was the day before the accident. And I never apologised to him, and now I can't tell him I'm sorry. Can't tell him that he looked just fine." She smacked her fists against her thighs. "I don't give a crap about him not shaving. I was a total fool! I've lost John. I can't lose Bruce too."

"I think you should go back downstairs," Erica said. "Sit down. Calm yourself. And please don't jump to conclusions."

"Yes." Mrs Wilson cupped her hands over her nose. "Okay. I think I need a drink."

4

Outside, I called Dutton on my Airwave handset. I hated those bloody clunky things and would have much rather used a mobile phone.

"There's no sign of any activity round here," I said. Still no patrol car, no uniforms talking to neighbours in a doorway. "What's going on?"

"They're spreading out," Dutton said. "Kid's still missing."

"What do you want us to do?"

"School's closed and everybody's gone home for the day. Bruce's teacher, name of…" there was a pause "… Mrs Grace Lennox, lives about five minutes away. She hasn't been interviewed yet. Pay her a visit."

He gave me the address. I mentioned the boyfriend and Dutton said he'd get Uniform to go round to check out Mr Les Green and make sure Bruce wasn't there. "By the way," I said, "did anybody get a photo of the kid?"

"Why wouldn't they?"