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steps to ground floor level, he looked up at the police station building. Row upon row of windows stared back at him. He imagined faces were watching him from behind the glass. It did not look much like a police station from the side but at the front there was no mistake, thanks to the cop cars and riot vans in their parking bays.
    He dawdled towards the main entrance and ran the story through in his head, one final time.
    Two coppers came out of a side door and approached him. He snatched at his breath. Were they coming for him? Did they know who he was?
    One of the coppers looked directly at him. Carl slowed to a half-pace and tensed up, but the cops continued towards one of the waiting cars. His heart was pounding as if he had just finished a training run. He moved towards the entrance and stepped gingerly into the foyer. Ahead of him, a black counter spanned the entire width of the room. A glass screen partitioned the counter top and ceiling with beige-coloured blinds pulled down low. Behind the only opened blind stood a middle-aged woman staring attentively in his direction.
    Carl instinctively checked behind himself and looked around the room. He was alone.
    The glass screen was now creeping slowly upwards under the power of a buzzing motor.
    He inched forward.
    ‘May I help you, sir?’ the woman behind the counter asked.
    ‘Um, yeah.’ Carl dithered. ‘I’ve been told to come for seven.’
    The woman raised her eyebrows. ‘Do you know who asked you to come for seven?’
    She made a point of looking at the clock on the wall.
    Carl followed her gaze and noticed it was almost seven fifteen.
    ‘Um, a detective,’ he replied, just as a stern-looking man wearing a grey suit and holding a blue book came into view from behind the woman.
     
    Deans had been waiting in the front office since six fifty. He did not like inactivity.
    ‘Carl Groves?’
    ‘Yeah,’ Groves replied, taking a half step backwards.
    ‘Stay there. I’ll be right over.’ Deans gave a subtle lock the door if he makes a bolt for it nod to the officer at the desk, and entered the foyer via a side door and bound his way towards Groves, who was paying attention to the exit.
    ‘Hi, Carl, thank you for coming in.’ Deans held his right hand and Groves looked at it suspiciously.
    ‘I’m DC Deans. I spoke with you on the phone earlier.’
    Groves nodded and tentatively shook Deans’ hand.
    ‘Follow me.’
    Deans turned and walked towards another door, and signalled to the officer behind the counter. The door buzzed and opened inwards into a small interview room and Groves stepped inside.
    Deans offered him a seat nearest the entrance and he sat opposite. The door closed on a stiff spring and a secure clout of the latch. This was it for Groves. No going back. Cards on the table.
    Deans noticed Groves checking out the room. He had already felt the clamminess of his hand. Groves did not know it but Deans was taking everything in. Every little anxious reaction. Every jumpy twitch. Every furtive body movement.
    ‘Thanks for coming in tonight, Carl. Have you parked next door?’
    Groves nodded and looked away towards the window.
    Deans waited until Groves looked at him again. ‘I’m a detective from the CID department, and I’m investigating the disappearance of Amy Poole, who I understand is your current girlfriend.’
    Groves’ head drooped and he stroked the hair at the nape of his neck.
    ‘Carl, is Amy your current girlfriend?’
    ‘Yeah,’ he replied, sharply.
    ‘Carl. You are aware that Amy is missing?’
    Groves shrugged and nodded, but did not look Deans in the eye.
    Deans’ knee began to bounce beneath the desk. ‘What do you know about the CID, Carl?’
    Groves shifted in his seat and his eyes flicked up to meet Deans’ for the briefest of moments.
    ‘Um, you deal with the serious stuff.’
    ‘That’s right, Carl. And we, the police, are taking Amy’s disappearance very seriously.’
    Deans waited for a reaction, and received