Stacey shook her hand free and turned on Emma’s mother.

‘What the hell have you done with her?’

‘What do you?…’

‘You knew Emma had Jessie’s phone but you pretended you didn’t and…’

‘I didn’t know about the phone,’ she protested.

‘But you knew Emma had hit her best friend and you covered it up. You wouldn’t even let me speak to her to ask her about Jessie. Now, I understand about protecting your child but what did she do to Jessie?’ Stacey asked. ‘And what have you helped her cover up?’

Panic and fear shaped her face.

‘There’s nothing, I swear…’

‘What happened between Jessie and Emma on Sunday night that you don’t want me to know about? Was there some kind of incident and Emma went too far? Hurt Jessie badly?’

‘No, Emma would never hurt Jessie,’ she said, moving in front of the caravan door.

‘Mrs Weston, if you don’t move from in front of that door I will physically remove you and worry about the search warrant later,’ Stacey said, meaningfully. She had the feeling that inside this caravan was the body of a fifteen-year-old girl.

Mrs Weston paled and sighed heavily.

‘I can’t do this any longer. I can’t protect her. I’ve tried and I can’t do any more,’ she said, moving away from the door.

Stacey’s hand moved back towards the door handle, and Mrs Weston didn’t try and stop her. When she spoke her voice was a defeated whisper.

‘Once you open that door we can never go back. I won’t be able to protect her any more. It’s all over.’

The tears began to fall from her eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Jessie,’ she said, loudly.

‘Wh-what?’ Stacey said, her palm still on the handle. ‘Jessie’s alive?’

The tears stopped falling, and horror bent her features.

‘Of, course she’s alive. You didn’t think… oh my god… how could you even?…’

‘Mrs Weston, you’re really gonna have to talk fast.’

The woman glanced at Stacey’s hand on the door of the caravan. Stacey dropped it for now.

Mrs Weston moved a couple of steps away and lowered her voice.

‘I know you’re not going to believe me but Jessie’s mother has been making her ill for years.’

Mrs Weston appeared to pause for the exclamation of disbelief.

‘Go on,’ Stacey said.

‘It’s got a special, fancy name but the top and bottom of it is that her mother does it to get attention.’

‘I’m listening,’ Stacey said.

‘You already know something, don’t you?’ she asked. ‘That’s why you’re hearing me out. You wouldn’t believe me if you hadn’t already got a suspicion.’

‘Please continue,’ Stacey said, admitting nothing.

‘It’s a tough thing to believe,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve known Jessie since she was five years old and even I struggled to believe her mother could do something like that. But then I started to think about how sickly she was as a child. There was always something wrong with her and then she seemed to get better for a while.’

‘When her brother was alive?’

‘You do know, don’t you,’ she asked with relief. ‘You’ve looked at this.’

‘Please, carry on,’ Stacey said.

‘When Justin, that poor little boy, died, it all started up again. But it was different. Her mother was coming up with more and more serious claims. Eventually I asked Jessie about it, and she broke down. It took a lot for her to admit that she thought her mother was making her ill. She actually preferred to think that she was ill. And then last week she received this appointment for the angiogram and it frightened her half to death. She’s tried to tell people, but no one will listen to her. She has no control over the procedure because she’s a minor. For another three days,’ she said, gravely.

‘So, that was the plan?’ Stacey asked, ‘To hide her until the threat of the procedure was over.’

‘Until Monday,’ she said. ‘When Jessie turns sixteen and has some say over what happens to her.’

‘Mrs Weston, why did Emma slap her?’

‘She’s not proud of what she did, officer. She loves that girl like a sister. You really think we’d be doing this if we didn’t care a great deal about her? Jessie had decided she wanted to tell her boyfriend about the plan, and Emma got angry. She knew how much trouble I’d be in if anyone found out. She ran after Jessie and apologised. They made up. Jessie went to the caravan as planned, and Emma came home.’

The endless trips up and down the path to take the girl supplies and to check on her.

Again, Stacey touched the door handle.

‘Please, if you do that you’ll have to take her. I understand that but please know that she will be back with her mother within an hour and then none of us can protect her.’

‘But I have to know.’

Mrs Weston stood closer to the door and spoke loudly.

‘I would imagine that if Jessie were alive she might find some way to let us know.’

A single knock sounded on the side of the caravan.

‘And if she were healthy, and fed and feeling safe…’

Another single knock.

‘But I can’t just walk away and pretend—’

‘You know she’s safe,’ Mrs Weston pleaded. ‘I swear to you that first thing on Monday morning I’ll bring her to the station and you can ask her anything. She’s in no danger. I won’t let any harm come to her but if you take her back…’

‘I need to know it’s her,’ Stacey said. For all she knew it could be Emma knocking back, sitting beside the dead body of her friend.

‘Ask something,’ Mrs Weston said.

Stacey thought about the girl’s medical history. She could picture the list of procedures as though it was imprinted on her brain.

‘How old were you when you had your first overnight stay in hospital?’ she asked.

Six knocks.

Correct.

‘How many times have you been put on an intravenous feeding drip?’

Three knocks.

Correct.

‘Damn,’ Stacey said aloud, wondering where in the handbook she’d find instructions for this.

The police officer in her cried out to open the door and do what was procedurally correct. To see the girl in the flesh, alive and healthy. Take her to the station and stamp the case closed.

And the human being in her knew that beyond that door was a young girl terrified to go home to a mother who had abused her for years.

She had started this week with Jessie as a runaway. No one had pushed to find the girl except her.

‘She’s safe. I won’t let anyone hurt her,’ Mrs Weston breathed. ‘I promise.’

Stacey prayed for some kind of sign. Some kind of guidance as to what she should do in this situation.

Suddenly her phone rang, startling them both.

She answered

‘Stace, it’s Penn. Boss wants you back here. Now.’