Stacey hesitated before knocking on the man’s door at 8.15 p.m. Although still light out, her mother had drummed certain rules into her as a child. She wasn’t allowed to go call for her friends before 10 a.m. or after 8 p.m. Respect and decency for other people, her mum had always lectured.

But his teenage daughter is missing, she silently explained as she tapped lightly on the stained-glass panel.

The front of the house was tidy and unassuming on a road just a half mile from her own home between Netherton and Dudley.

The door was opened by a slim, attractive man in his late thirties wearing jeans and a plain tee shirt. His hair was light brown with just a hint of grey at the temples.

‘Mr Dunn, Jeffrey Dunn?’ she asked, holding up her ID.

He frowned and nodded.

‘I’m here about Jessie,’ she explained. ‘Your daughter,’ she added before realising that bit had been unnecessary. He knew who she was.

His face creased in concern.

‘May I come in?’ she asked. ‘I have a few questions.’

‘Of course,’ he said, standing aside as though he’d completely forgotten his manners.

Stacey walked towards the kitchen looking for clues as she went. There was only one jacket hanging over the bannister. She sniffed the air, but there was no smell of perfume. The kitchen was tidy except for sandwich-making ingredients on the work surface nearest to the sink. There were no glasses, cups or plates lying around to give her a clue.

‘So, what’s wrong with Jessie?’ he asked, disturbing her secret reconnaissance of his home.

He didn’t invite her to sit, so she didn’t.

‘I’m afraid your daughter is missing, Mr Dunn.’

Although his back was towards her she saw the tension seep into his shoulders before he shook his head.

‘I’m sure you know I’ve not seen her since she was four years old.’

‘Not once?’ she asked, moving around the kitchen to the end of the work surface so she could see his face, which was focussed hard on the sliced ham he was adding to a smattering of grated cheese.

He shook his head in response. ‘Her mother wouldn’t allow it once I left.’

Stacey couldn’t help wondering how hard he’d tried. There were courts and procedures and people to help him with seeing his own child.

‘Yes, I tried,’ he said, as though reading her thoughts. ‘Maybe not as hard as I should but that’s not something I’m going to share with you,’ he said, turning to her. ‘No offence.’

Stacey was surprised to see the pain in his eyes and wondered if she had judged him harshly.

‘Mr Dunn, may I ask why you left?’ she asked before she could stop herself.

‘I’m sure you’ve already had one version of that story so I won’t—’

‘Your ex-wife says you left when Jessie got ill,’ she said, but something about his demeanour caused her to wonder.

His smile was filled with irony. ‘Of course she did.’

Stacey detected little anger in his tone. More resigned acceptance.

‘But you’re not here for a lesson in our family history. You want to know if Jessie is here, and I can assure you she’s not.’

Stacey could hear the abject sadness in his tone and felt that her very presence was bringing back painful memories for him.

‘Mr Dunn, I’m sorry…’

‘Take a look around,’ he said, cutting the sandwich in half. ‘I have nothing to hide.’

Stacey knew she would get no better invitation and, despite her regret at being the source of his pain, she quietly thanked him before leaving the room.

His openness told her that Jessie wasn’t here but she had an obligation to check. Nevertheless, she trod gently as she mounted the stairs, feeling her intrusion into his memories and his home.

All doors from the landing were open. She stood in the doorway of the first, which clearly belonged to Jeffrey Dunn. A double bed, one bedside lamp, an Ian Rankin novel and an alarm clock. The other bedside cabinet was empty.

The next room held a single bed without sheets or pillows. She stepped in and opened the wardrobe; it was empty. There was no other furniture in the room.

She entered the bathroom and looked around. There were no female toiletries in the cabinet or on the side of the bath. She checked the plugholes for evidence of longer hair, but there was nothing. She checked the waste bin for anything that hinted at a female presence, but it was empty.

If Jeffrey Dunn had ever remarried there was no evidence of it now. There was no doubt that this man lived alone.

She headed down the stairs after assessing the back garden. Enclosed by fencing on both sides the rectangle was free of lawn and was half slab and half gravel. There was no garden shed or storage boxes to check.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs she saw Mr Dunn sitting in the lounge with a coffee mug in hand.

Stacey paused. ‘Thank you for being so cooperative and—’

‘I didn’t leave because my daughter became ill,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘Jessie was ill from birth. I was right there with my wife, talking to doctors, specialists. Poor kid has had every test to find out what’s wrong with her: blood tests, scans, MRIs, the works.’

‘So why did you?…’

‘When Jessie first became ill my wife and I were a team, we handled it together, kept each other strong through the fear and the worry. Little by little Kerry began to pull away from me, started handling things alone. It was like she closed her arms around Jessie and there was just no room for anyone else.’ He smiled, ruefully. ‘I get how self-centred that sounds but it wasn’t like that. I didn’t want my wife’s attention. I wanted to help them both, and I couldn’t get close to either of them. It crucified me and eventually I gave in.’

He paused and looked at her, the pain of his loss still evident in his eyes.

‘So you see I didn’t really leave – because my wife had already left.’