Hamza and the others were taken aback by the question. “Well… she took it into Morrison’s, so… yes? I think so. I can double-check with him, but I’m pretty sure he would’ve said something if he thought it was dead.”

“Aye, but check anyway. Might not have occurred to him,” Logan said.

“Why would they be lugging a dead baby around, boss?” Tyler asked.

“Could’ve been taking it out there to bury it,” Sinead suggested, paling at the thought of it.

“Aye, but if it was dead, why would you take the pram and cot, too?” Tyler asked. “They’d be a right pain in the arse to carry around on public transport, especially if you didn’t need them. I mean, the pram, maybe—they could’ve pushed it around and said the wee one was sleeping—but why drag the cot around if you’re not going to use it?”

Logan shed his coat and dumped it on the back of a chair. “Let’s check with the taxi driver. Chances are the wean was just sleeping, like he says, but let’s rule out any other possibilities, then I think we need another recap. Got a few new bits of info to share.” He looked around at the empty chair by DI Forde’s desk. “Where’s Ben?”

“We, eh, we don’t know, sir,” Sinead admitted. “He said he had something to do, and that he’d be back in an hour.”

“When was this?”

“Ten… fifteen minutes ago, maybe?” said Sinead.

“And he didn’t tell you what it was?”

“No, sir,” Sinead replied. “But, from the way he was acting, it looked like it was something important.”

* * *

Ben didn’t like hospitals. But then, does anyone? he wondered, as he made his way along the Combined Assessment corridor at the Belford, following the directions the nurse at the entrance had given him.

She’d been surprised when he’d asked where to find Moira Corson. He was, she told him, her first visitor.

“Of the day?” Ben had asked, although he already knew the answer.

She was propped up on the bed farthest from the door when Ben entered, her head turned away so she could look out of the large window at the garden beyond. The days were stretching, and there was still a couple of hours of light left despite the near ever-present covering of cloud.

Two of the other three beds had women lying in them. Both had visitors—two at one, three at the other. They were all chatting away, harking back to happier times, and making plans for when the patient was eventually discharged.

Moira lay in silence, looking out at the world, but separated from it by the glass, and her reflection in it.

“Alright, you malingering auld bugger?”