Although only a few streets away from Jessie Ryan’s house, Emma Weston appeared to live in a whole different part of town.

Sedgley sat on the A459 nestled between Dudley and Wolverhampton and was formed of many housing estates: High Arcal, Tudor, Cotwall End, Brownswall, Giro City – so named because the majority of occupants claimed benefits.

But Stacey knew she had crossed over to the Beacon Estate, an area built of old council houses known for occupants dumping rubbish on each other’s gardens, feuds and house fires. At the top of the estate lay Beacon Hill, a dumping ground for litter and stolen cars, visited by gypsies on numerous occasions.

But however grim it was it didn’t compare to Hollytree, and many of the problem families had been moved from Beacon to the Brierley Hill conurbation.

The tidy lawns, shrub borders and freshly planted hanging baskets had given way to houses sitting on sludge pits with patches of grass, grimy net curtains, broken-down cars and a battered caravan in the communal parking area at the end of the road.

As she crossed the road, Stacey slid behind a decent-looking Volvo out of place in the hopeless street. Brave person leaving it unattended, she thought, traversing the uneven slabs that led to the Weston’s front door.

The door was opened by a girl wearing way too much make-up over a suspicious expression.

‘Who’re you?’ she asked before Stacey got chance to speak.

She showed her identification. ‘Detective Constable Stacey Wood. I’m here about Jessie. May I come in?’

Emma Weston shook her head and placed herself more firmly in the space as though Stacey was going to barge past her and force entry to the house.

‘I said all I got to say,’ she said, rudely.

Stacey knew that a constable had been dispatched the previous day to take details from Emma for the report, but she’d been summoned back to Halesowen before the officer had returned to the station.

‘Well if you could just say it again,’ Stacey said, trying to remain pleasant in the face of the girl’s rudeness.

‘She came over, we listened to music, ate a pizza and she went home. Normal time. End of.’

‘Was anything bothering her?’ Stacey asked.

Emma shook her head.

‘Did she mention an argument with her stepfather at all?’

Emma rolled her eyes. ‘They was always at it. The bloke’s a wan—’

‘Was he physical with her?’ Stacey asked, wondering if this fight had got out of hand.

‘Not this time, I don’t think,’ she said shortly. ‘But plenty other times.’

‘Emma, did Jessie have a boyfriend?’

She shook her head and narrowed her eyes.

‘And she’s your best friend?’ Stacey asked.

‘Yeah,’ she said defensively.

‘So, you’d tell me if you knew anything further.’

‘Yeah,’ she repeated.

‘Only you don’t seem all that bothered she’s missing,’ Stacey observed, feeling her hackles rise at the girl’s attitude. Perhaps these kids weren’t as close as Mrs Ryan thought.

‘I’m answering your questions, ay I?’

‘You’re not worried about her?’

Emma rolled her eyes. ‘Jessie’s nearly sixteen,’ she said as though that meant she’d earned herself a wealth of experience since her fifteenth birthday. ‘She’s fine and she’ll be back when she’s cooled off. Just chill.’

‘Are you so blasé because she’s done this before?’ Stacey asked.

Emma shrugged. ‘Jessie can take care of herself. She’s tougher than she seems.’

‘Do you know anything about Jessie’s father?’ Stacey asked, reasoning that the girls had known each other for a long time.

‘Why would I? She doesn’t even know him really. Just his name,’ she added quickly.

Stacey’s senses kicked in to the sudden colour that the girl couldn’t stop from rushing to her cheeks.

‘Emma, is Jessie in touch with her father?’

‘Dow be stupid. She ay seen him since she was a baby.’

Well, she’d be visiting him all the same to confirm that one, Stacey decided.

‘Look, Emma, I’m here cos Jessie’s mother is worried. She’ll be seriously ill without her medicine,’ Stacey advised.

‘Ha, like that stupid cow—’

‘Who is it, Emma?’ asked a female opening the door wide.

There was no mistaking that she was now looking at Emma’s mother. The dark moody eyes were the same, the heavy make-up and the scowl when she looked at Stacey’s identification.

‘My daughter has nothing more to say,’ she said, pulling her child away from the door and closing it with a bang.

Stacey turned away, stunned at the attitude of them both. A young girl was missing and was without her medication.

Suddenly Stacey could understand why Jessie’s mum wasn’t all that keen on her daughter’s best friend.

Firstly, she wasn’t sure Emma was telling her anywhere near the truth, but more than that – as her mother had pulled her away from the door, Stacey had seen a strange look come over the child’s face and if she had to name it, she would have called it triumph.