‘Bloody hell,’ Stacey said, loud enough for Penn to hear.

He ignored her.

‘Oi, Notkev, look at this,’ she said, turning her screen.

Her first call to the Practice Manager of Wychley Medical Practice had not been fruitful. She had refused Stacey access to Jessie’s medical records based on the absence of consent from the patient, and no matter how many times she’d tried to explain that the patient was missing, the woman had not budged. Stacey had requested an urgent call from Jessie’s GP, Doctor Bristow, who had called her back ten minutes ago. After quoting Section 29 of the Data Protection Act 1998, the doctor had correctly explained that he was not compelled to allow access, but after listening to her had agreed that the need to disclose the patient’s records outweighed the patient’s interest in keeping the information confidential.

She had just signed into their system on the temporary credentials he had given her and her mouth had fallen open at what she’d seen.

Penn’s eyes widened as they quickly ran across all the entries.

She scrolled down to show the extent of what she’d found.

She scrolled back to the top.

‘The poor kid has been in and out of hospital since she was born. Started with feeding problems when she was just seven months old. She’s had apnoea, diarrhoea, seizures, cyanosis, fevers, asthma; the list just goes on and on. It’s like a bloody medical journal,’ she said, as the fear for the girl’s safety grew in her stomach.

Penn was trying to keep up as she scrolled. ‘Let’s see again,’ he said.

She went back and used the cursors to move through the screen slower.

His eyes whizzed across the page as his fair eyebrows drew together. ‘Go back to 2013,’ he said, coming around to stand beside her.

‘Why?’ she asked, as she began to scroll down.

‘There,’ he said, pointing at the screen.

She looked at what he’d noticed.

‘A three-year gap,’ she said. ‘From 2013 to 2016 there was hardly anything. Just a couple of chest infections.’

‘Yeah, but look at the problems afterwards,’ Penn said. She could hear the puzzlement in his tone.

‘She’s been in and out almost every month for the last couple of years.’

‘She’s been having ECGs, chest X-rays, MRIs, CT scans and… bloody hell…’

‘What?’ Stacey asked.

‘Five months ago she had transesophageal echocardiogram,’ he said.

‘Let’s pretend I was off sick the day the police gave us medical training,’ she snapped.

Penn ignored her tone and explained. ‘Patient is sedated to ease the discomfort and decrease the gag reflex while an ultrasound probe is passed through the oesophagus. It’s invasive but shows all areas of the heart including aorta, pulmonary artery, valves, atria, everything.’

‘How do you even… never mind. I don’t even care,’ Stacey said. ‘But Jesus, this kid’s been through it.’

‘Results were inconclusive and Mrs Ryan demanded a second opinion,’ Penn said. ‘Insisting that the symptoms had not decreased.’

Stacey reached the end of the list and read the final entry.

‘Which would explain that,’ Stacey said, quietly.

‘Oh yeah,’ he answered.

Staring at her was a signed admission form.

‘She’s due to go into hospital tomorrow for an angiogram.’

‘My dad had that done,’ Penn said. ‘He had anaesthetic pumped into his wrist for his radial artery. They slid a narrow plastic tube up the artery to his heart and injected dye so the arteries would show up under an X-ray. He was sixty-seven and shitting himself.’

And Jessie Ryan was due to have this procedure tomorrow.

‘What’s the purpose of it?’ Stacey asked. She’d heard the term on medical programmes but had no clue what it meant.

‘In my dad’s case it was to detect narrowing of the arteries but it was pretty much after all other tests had been exhausted.’

‘Like Jessie?’ Stacey asked.

He nodded, and Stacey didn’t feel the need to state the obvious.

With all the health problems this teenage girl had, if they didn’t find her soon, Jessie Ryan could die.