To their relief, the two detectives came back into the room before they needed to say anything. Mr Dryden looked up eagerly at them, but the man shook his head.
"No trace of them, I'm afraid, sir," said Carlton, and Mr Dryden sat down heavily. "But we'll keep looking until we find him, I promise."
He nodded, as though trying to convince himself. Carlton and River sat down opposite him.
"Is there anything else you remember about last night? Anything at all that might help us?" asked Carlton, his pen already poised above his notebook.
"What more is there to say? I just heard this noise in the middle of the night, a sort of banging. I was half asleep at the time, so I thought it was the dog. But then a few minutes later I heard this cry, so I got up to see what the problem was. I thought perhaps Louis had fallen out of bed, or something. Then I saw that the window was open in the living room, and when I looked out, someone was outside, holding - holding my son."
Another sob threatened to escape him, but he took a deep breath. "I shouted something, I can't even remember what. They had a car waiting. Dark blue... a Ford I think. Whoever it was quickly bundled him into the car and drove off. I tried to get out of the window to follow him, but I couldn't - I was too big."
He looked down at his thick, muscled arms and legs, as if to blame them for the fact that his son was gone.
"How old was Louis?" asked River, gently.
"Only - only five." Mr Dryden couldn't stop himself now, the tears flowed freely. "He was all I had left."
"What about his mother?" asked Carlton.
"My wife left me not long after Louis was born. Whilst she was away touring with her band, I was left with custody of Louis."
Carlton nodded, thanked him, and left, but River stayed for a moment. "We're really sorry about your son, Mr Dryden," she said. "I promise you, we'll do everything we can to find him."
He nodded again, and blew his nose. Then he headed over to the mantlepiece, where there was a framed photo of himself, a young woman, and a young boy with curly blond hair. He touched the boy's face lightly. "That's my boy," he murmured.
He picked it up and handed it to River. "Keep it," he said, "So you know what he looks like."
River took it and smile. "We'll bring him back home, Mr Dryden," she promised. "I promise."
She headed out of the house to the car, where Carlton was waiting for her. The instant she was in, he pulled away with a screech of brakes.
"You took your time," he snapped, his eyes glued to the road.
River knew better than to answer, as he snatched his phone from the dashboard and began dialling a number, swerving dangerously through the cars as he did so. He thrust the phone at River.
"Ring that number," he instructed.
"Why?"
"They're locating the dark blue Fords that headed out of town in the past four hours and giving me an address. Now get on with it!"
River did so, and listened for a moment to the man's gravelly voice on the other end of the phone. "One's heading north on the motorway towards Crawford, two are on the A692 east-bound and one double backed on itself and is near King's Cross."
Carlton stabbed the buttons on the radio. "All patrol cars, this is Squad Car 27. We're headed for the Crawford car, repeat, the car headed to Crawford. Divide up the other cars between yourselves, let's find this kid before anything happens to him."
A moment later the crackly voice came back at him. "Roger that, sir. We've covered the rest."
Carlton weaved in and out of the traffic until he hit the motorway, when he slammed his foot down. "Best bit of being a copper," he muttered to himself, as the needle hit 100 mph.
**
"What do you mean, you haven't got him?" Carlton was livid, and River made a mental note to stay out of his way for the next few hours. The uniform looked as though he wanted to do the same.
"Sorry, sir," he mumbled. "None of the cars contained a child. There was an elderly couple, Mr and Mrs Vane, James Kayne, the famous boxer, a Miss Vaqueros and a group of three brothers who refused to give their names as anything other than Ghost, Black and Crew. No children anywhere."
"Vaqueros?" butted in River, suddenly, before Carlton's breath could turn into abuse. "That's Dryden's ex-wife, sir, that's Louis' mother."
Carlton's angry glare was replaced by his sharp, concentrating look. "Get her in the interview room, now," he ordered. "And keep the others here, I'll want to talk with them. Don't think you've heard the last of this."
Whilst Carlton went to talk to the boy's mother, River slipped away, wanting to confirm her own hunches. She went first into the room where Ghost, Black and Crew were waiting.
The three obviously weren't brothers. Crew was dark-skinned, with a red stripe running down one side of his dark dreadlocks. Black was tall and skeletal, and Ghost was small and Asian, a dozen amulets hanging around his neck. He was strumming a guitar whilst the others were singing along, Crew drumming a beat on the table.
They trailed off when River came in and sat down opposite them silently. She took the picture of Dryden, his wife and his son and placed it on the table in front of her. "Know them?"
"Sure," said Crew, exhaling smoky breath at her. "The chick's Vixen, she's in our band."
"Vixen? What's her real name?"
"Real name? It is her real name. Your false two-part names are constraints of society, binding us down with ties stronger than rope. By choosing our own names, we cut these bonds and forge our own path through life, bringing peace and love with our music," said Ghost.
"Do you know where she was last night?"
"She came home from her holiday only this morning. We were meeting for another gig tonight. We're playing our new song, listen!" Ghost strummed a chord and the boys all began singing again.
River shook her head and left quickly, frowning. Nothing tied those boys to the abduction, but something... something wasn't right. She picked up the list of suspects again and examined it.
Answer (highlight to read): The boys must have been part of the abduction. Miss Vaquerous, Louis' mother, was out of the country, and the other two suspects (the elderly couple and the heavily-built prize fighter) would both be unable to climb through the window. Knowing Miss Vaqueros and her family makes it all the more likely that they would have been part of it.
