And so she had. Paula dodged the puddles and potholes and climbed the metal steps into the mobile incident room. As she entered, a tiny woman wrestling her body into a white protective suit paused to look her up and down. ‘McIntyre?’

Clearly the standard form of address in this firm. ‘That’s right. DCI Fielding?’

‘That’s me. Nice of you to join us. Get suited up, quick as you like.’ There was something bird-like about Fielding. It wasn’t simply her size or her fine-boned appearance. Her eyes darted around, even as she climbed into her suit, and there was a quick jerkiness to her movements that made Paula think of a blackbird raiding the earth for worms.

‘I was taking a witness statement. Misper.’ Paula checked the pile of J-suits. Fielding had snaffled the only small. She settled for a medium and began the inconvenient process of getting into it.

‘That’s a bit beneath your pay grade.’ Fielding’s Scottish accent was the honey-seductive rather than the half-brick aggressive sort.

‘I happened to recognise the teenager who was reporting. I’ve actually met his mother. I thought it would save time if I dealt with it since the front counter was sticking to the letter of twenty-four hours.’

Fielding paused with the zip halfway over her small bosom. She frowned, olive skin crinkling into a relief map of shallow furrows and ridges. ‘That’s because he’s been trained to follow protocols. Protocols that are put in place so detectives like us don’t waste our time on folk having a spur-of-the-moment night out.’

Paula shoved a second leg into the suit, annoyed by her trouser leg rucking up around the knee. ‘I’ve always understood that when there’s a child or a vulnerable adult left at risk by a disappearance, we take action straight away.’ According to the grapevine, Fielding was a mother. She should get it.

Fielding grunted. ‘Been a while since you’ve been at the sharp end, McIntyre. Major Incident Team’s spoiled you.’ She pulled a face. ‘In an ideal world, you’d be right. But we’re not in an ideal world. Cuts and redundancies have fucked us all up.’ She frowned again, brown eyes glaring at Paula. ‘We haven’t got the bodies to jump in early on mispers. We leave that to uniforms. I need you here. Not fucking about on the tail of somebody who’s probably chosen not to be where they’re expected to be.’ She held up a hand to shut Paula up before she could speak. ‘I know. The reasons for those choices are usually fucking horrible. But we’re not social workers.’