‘Dad, it’s Sasha. Pick it up, I know you’re there.’ She was fully convinced he was standing right next to the phone, listening to her. ‘Pick up the phone, go on, pick it up. Pickitupickitupickitup.’

She twisted away, just in case the uniform was earwigging.

‘Alright then, I don’t know what’s going on with you and Mum, but whatever it is, it’s very silly, and you should both know better. Give me a call, please,’ she said and added, ‘I love you.’

She dropped the phone in her bag and went to the door of the bland new-build house in the suburb of Eastwood. The estate, up by the airport, couldn’t have been more than a decade old.

‘Remind me of their names,’ she asked the officer quietly.

‘Alan and Jessica.’

The Mannings’ living room was neat and impersonal, most of the space taken up by a big leather sofa and a low coffee table with a bowl of fragrant potpourri on it. On the wall was a colourful canvas image of Alan, Jessica and their daughter, Sammi. The little girl was only seven or eight in the photo, which had been taken in a professional studio. The family lay face forward on a rug, Sammi snug as a bug between mum and dad, a big grin on her face.

Alan Manning had put on a bit of weight since the photo was taken and his hair had thinned. He paced in an oversized cardigan, jowls trembling as he scowled at his mobile. Perched on the sofa, Jessica Manning watched him tensely through bleary eyes.

‘Nothing,’ he told her. ‘It’s still switched off.’

‘Try it again.’

‘If it was off a second ago, it’s hardly likely to be switched on now.’

‘Mr and Mrs Manning.’ Sasha stepped forward to shake hands. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Sasha Dawson.’

Jessica jumped up. ‘You’ve found Sammi?’

‘I’m sorry, no.’ Sasha smiled sadly. ‘I’m here to ask you a few questions.’

Sasha would have to be careful about what she told the parents. Their fifteen-year-old daughter hadn’t been seen since the previous evening, but there was still no serious evidence that she had been abducted. As the attending officer, Sasha would fill out a Missing From Home form, a risk assessment that Sammi had gone missing in suspicious circumstances. Then it would be up to her boss, DCI Vaughn, to decide what, if any, resources should be put into looking for the girl.

But in Sasha’s experience there was still every likelihood Sammi would walk in the door safe and well, and admit she’d stayed overnight at a friend’s house. Frantic with worry, her parents would go ballistic, there would be harsh words, and then they’d all weep with relief. Sasha had seen a similar scenario unfold many times before.