CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The hour was late, and Steel bid his colleague goodnight. The sun had sunk below the horizon, and washes of colour painted the skyline with purples, reds, and oranges. He decided that he would go and check on his young friend. As he approached the spot where the boy’s shoe-shine box usually stood, he saw only an empty space, and a sickening feeling crawled over him like a heavy blanket.
Steel kept walking, hoping to catch a sign of Luke, but he saw nothing. As he ventured home, the streets were oddly silent, hoping and praying the boy was OK.
Steel slid his key into the door and let himself into the apartment, hanging up his jacket before moving to the drinks cabinet and picking out the bottle of Glendronach malt whisky. He poured a little of the golden-coloured liq
