‘Right, listen up folks.’ The superintendent cleared his throat and gestured with his arm at the small man standing by his side. ‘This is Dr Gerry Cornwell.’ He paused to allow Dr Cornwell to nod his head. ‘And Dr Cornwell is a psychiatrist.’ He stopped and made sure he eyeballed every man, but not the one woman, in the room. ‘Now I know what you’re thinking…you’re thinking: what’s a wanker like him doing in a police operations room?’ He waited for his men to laugh, and a few brown-nosers managed to force out a titter. Sam Jones wasn’t one of them. ‘Well, times are changing, and we have to change with them. Dr Cornwell is what they call a profiler…it means he can look at the crime and tell us the type of person likely to have committed it. Bit like a fortune-teller, aren’t you?’

You could have cut the cynicism in the air with a knife. The troops looked bored to death with this time-wasting. Vickers stopped for a breath and looked at Cornwell, who was avoiding eye contact. Sam seized her moment, and stood up to ask a question.

‘Dr Cornwell, my name is WPC Sam Jones. What about the CCTV footage? We already know it’s a couple of kids who’ve taken the toddler; in fact, the mum told me last night that she thinks they’re even younger than we first imagined. What else can you tell us from what you’ve seen on the recording?’

Cornwell looked at her with interest. He took his glasses off, held his right hand up to silence the superintendent, and said: ‘If I may?’ The superintendent nodded. ‘The CCTV film shows us the suspects but it’s not clear enough to identify them. They are young, so they may not have come to the attention of the police but…’ Cornwell stopped for effect. ‘The two suspects WILL be known to social services. They will be on records somewhere. These children come from deprived backgrounds. Superintendent, I’d like to go over my theories…’ The assembled detectives rolled their eyes shamelessly. The superintendent glared at them, then turned towards Cornwell. ‘Doctor, you’ll appreciate that time is of the essence. I was rather hoping you would simply give us a written report that could be distributed.’ And ignored, thought Sam. Cornwell didn’t seem too surprised about being cut off in full flow. Besides, he had a plan B.