His couch potato’s pallor was in striking contrast to the bright red blotches of acne, his mouth seemed to be permanently half-open and he was unlucky enough to have inherited his father’s small, deep-set eyes. Put a baseball cap back to front on his head and he wouldn’t even need make-up to go on the box as Kevin the Teenager, Tansy Kerr thought as she took her seat on one of the beige leather chairs in the Gloags’ lounge. This morning he was noticeably shaken, though the look he gave his father when Gloag Senior explained that he had taken the day off to support his son in his time of need, was not one of gratitude. ‘We were hoping to have a word with you, Gordon,’ Wilson explained. ‘If you’re up for it,’ Kerr added. ‘You must be feeling pretty bad this morning. You and Barney and Dylan were good mates, weren’t you?’ The youth gulped. ‘Yeah. What happened – it was gross.’ Kerr got out her notebook. ‘Maybe you could talk us through yesterday afternoon and evening?’ She turned to Gloag.
