Stacey stepped out of the taxi outside Emma Weston’s house. She didn’t feel the teenager had been truthful with her the day before but there was no point trying to speak to her again until she had something to ask. She hadn’t got a particularly good vibe from the mother either.

She had returned wondering if the neighbours had seen or heard anything. She looked up and down the street but no property looked exceptionally inviting.

She thought about the house that had a nice Volvo parked the day before. They were directly opposite. She crossed the road and began walking and then stopped before she got there, right next to a white transit van.

She looked at the property. Dishwater-grey net curtains hung at the upstairs window with a dark-coloured roller blind behind. Four slabs with huge gaps in between formed a makeshift path to the front door over a quagmire of grass tufts and mud.

She took long steps and hit the glass in the absence of a knocker. A few cigarette butts were piling up beneath the front room window.

There was no answer and no movement. She knocked again. Harder. It definitely looked as though the white transit belonged to this house. There had to be someone home.

She heard the sound of cursing, and footsteps thundering down the stairs.

‘What the fucking?…’

The man’s words stopped dead as he laid eyes on her.

Stacey was aware that the bearded bear of a man was hardly dressed and was covered only in a black tee shirt and a pair of yellow shorts. Bird tattoos covered his meaty arms.

‘Sir, I’m really sorry to disturb you but is that a dashcam in your transit?’

‘That’d be funny if I hadn’t just worked a bloody long night shift. Now, what the?…’

His words trailed away as she held up her identification.

‘I ain’t broke no laws,’ he protested, shaking his head. ‘Little bastards keep slashing my tyres, and you lot won’t do anything without evidence.’

‘Sir, you’re not in any trouble. I’ll start again. I’m Detective Constable Stacey Wood investigating the case of a missing fifteen-year-old girl and I’d really like your help.’

Sleep-deprived or not she saw the anger seep out of him. He scratched at a spot on his chest that was just to the right of a toothpaste stain.

‘Well, put like that, how can I refuse?’ he said, standing aside.

Stacey stepped into a dated residence full of swirls and twirls but much tidier than she’d expected. There was no television or radio playing and that was because this was his night time.

‘Sir, was your van parked there on Sunday night?’

‘For a while, why?’

‘Could I see the footage?’ she asked.

‘It’s not Emma Weston who’s gone cos I saw her this morning,’ he said, reaching for his phone from the telephone table in the hall.

‘No, her friend, Jessie, blonde, pretty, fifteen years old.’

‘I think I know who you mean,’ he said, pressing an app on his phone. He tapped in the details surprisingly quickly with his meaty fingers.

The screen sprang into life. He passed her the phone. ‘Here, have a look while I go and put some clothes on.’

‘Not on my account,’ she said, appreciating the offer. ‘I’ll let you get back to bed as soon as I can.’

She keyed in the date she wanted and entered ‘10.30’ but the screen came back blank. She rolled backwards until she caught a movement. She stopped it and watched. A few people walked past. Three kids on bikes rode up and down the pavement a couple of times, and a small Jack Russell terrier appeared from nowhere, took a dump and disappeared again. She kept watching, and at 8.35 p.m. both girls exited Emma Weston’s house. The footage caught them walking down the path talking animatedly. Emma was waving her hands around in what looked like frustration. Jessie seemed to be walking away.

Stacey couldn’t take her eyes off Jessie, seeing her in the flesh instead of staring at her photo. Just as her mother described, wearing black leggings, a long tee shirt and a denim jacket.

Emma stopped walking at the end of the path, and they faced each other. Emma was still gesticulating, and Jessie crossed her arms. Then for a few seconds neither of them seemed to speak. Stacey half expected them to begin that game of tic-tac-toe, a staple of the playground, then Jessie said something. Emma’s right hand came up and slapped Jessie round the face.

‘She’s a feisty one,’ said the guy from behind her. For a big guy she hadn’t heard him approach.

Stacey continued to watch and could feel the stunned silence that fell between the two friends as though neither could believe what had just happened.

Suddenly, Jessie turned and started to walk away. Emma began to follow when the screen suddenly went blank.

‘What happened?’ Stacey asked, wanting to watch the soap opera continue before her.

‘I switched it off cos I was on my way out. I went to work.’

‘And you never saw either of them when you left?’

He shook his head, slowly.

‘No, officer, I never saw a thing.’