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was soon. Bless his heart, he was well dressed and fed, they knew that much. A woman with long blond hair, tallish . . . but that could have been because she was wearing heels. None of the men had looked hard enough. Which meant she wasn’t all that special. One thing they were all sure about was the fact that she’d been in a hurry. But she would have been, wouldn’t she? If she was dumping a child in a crusher she would have been as quick as she ruddy well could.
    Kate looked at Jason’s BMW and realised why the woman had not spotted him. The reflected glare of the sun on the windscreen made the inside of the car look dark and empty. So she had obviously thought herself unobserved.
    Whoever she was, she had meant to kill the little lad. The knowledge left Kate feeling deeply depressed.
     
    Caroline Anderson walked unsteadily into her small terraced house. She was still half drunk from the night before. Going straight to the bathroom, she had a long satisfying wee. As the strong-odoured water came out of her body she felt herself relaxing. She hated that smell. It was the smell of men. Strange men. It was bitter and acrid. The smell of her own degradation and the complete fuck-up her daily life had become.
    After wiping herself, she ran a bath. She poured in half a bottle of Ralgex and watched the bubbles mounting, smiling in anticipation. A good scrub and she would let the kids out.
    Stripping off, she stepped into the steaming water and lay back. She glanced at her watch. She was later than ever today. She had had an overnighter - and Christ, she had worked for the money! Three blokes and enough ‘toys’ to set up an Ann Summers shop.
    She was sore everywhere.
    Closing her eyes, she let the hot water do its work.
     
    Kate watched as the little boy wolfed down another hot dog. He was obviously starving. A good-looking, golden-skinned Anglo-Caribbean child, he was bright and alert, with a fabulous smile. He seemed happy enough in the canteen with everyone making a big fuss of him. His big brown eyes were merry, and he had a sturdy little body. He was obviously well cared for, too, in his expensive clothes. A real little designer babe. But what was his name?
    The child was no more than eighteen months old, though large for his age. The doctor had said he was in perfect health and none the worse for his ordeal. But he was a quiet child and would not or could not answer any questions. Kate found herself smiling at him again. He beamed across at her and shoved another large bite of hot dog into his mouth.
    ‘Quiet, ain’t he?’
    Kate nodded at Black’s observation. ‘But someone knows who he is. Has Social Services arrived yet?’
    ‘Nope. Handsome little lad, though.’
    ‘Probably another poor little git with a waster for a mother,’ Kate said quietly. ‘I don’t know. Why do people go through all the hag of childbearing and then not bother to care for the poor little fuckers?’
    The little boy sipped at his orange juice and Kate felt tears prick her eyes. He looked so helpless, so vulnerable. So bloody small . She swallowed down her anger and her pity.
    It was all she could do.
     
    Caroline was sleepy; the heat of the water and the night’s exertions had tired her out. She pulled herself reluctantly from the bath and wrapped a big towel around her body as she walked through to her lounge. It was as always pristine.
    Lighting a Rothman’s, she pulled on it deeply and absent-mindedly straightened a cushion that was already perfectly aligned. Opening her handbag, she pulled out £300 in twenties and another £150 in tens. She had the money for that coffee-table she fancied and for Christian’s new trainers.
    Caroline felt a glow inside. The night before had been worth it, after all. Something to put out of her head, like all the other nights she had so conveniently forgotten.
    Yawning, she walked through to the kids’ bedroom. After pulling back the big bolt on the door, she pushed it open, smiling in