Again, it’s Stephanie who speaks. ‘Probably jeans. There’s a pair I can’t find. Her parka jacket is also missing – it’s one of those oversized ones that they all seem to wear. Hers is green with a fur-lined hood.’

It’s more detail than I’d expected. ‘Would you mind if I had a look in her bedroom?’

James Hampton is tight-lipped as he gets up and walks towards the door. I follow him upstairs, then along the landing at the top, until he stops outside a half-open door. Feeling inside for the light switch, I turn it on. At first glance, it’s a typical teenage girl’s room – messy, with items of clothing strewn here and there, drawers not closed properly, the doors to the wardrobe left ajar. Along one of the walls is a white metal-framed bed, its pale pink covers disturbed, almost as though she’s just got out of it.

This is the one part of this house that’s Hollie’s, and the smallest clue could help find her. Without moving anything, my eyes scan the bits of paper left on the pine desk where her laptop sits, then a few that she’s stuck to the wall – photos and quotes alongside reminders to herself about homework.

After taking a few photos, I turn to James Hampton. ‘Do you know if Hollie keeps a diary?’

When he shakes his head, I ask, ‘Does she have a boyfriend?’

James Hampton hesitates, but only briefly. ‘No.’

Going further in, I scrutinise the shelves that hold a range of books – young adult, classics, poetry, fantasy … One or two I recognise but the rest are unfamiliar. Taking more photographs, my eyes settle on what looks like one of James’s books. Picking it up, I turn towards him. ‘One of yours?’

He looks uncomfortable as he nods. ‘Yes.’

My eyes linger on the laptop. ‘It might help if we were to take this. Is that OK?’ Not that it’s optional. If Hollie’s in danger, we need all the help we can get.

‘Fine.’ James speaks abruptly, then he adds, ‘I don’t have her phone. We think she must have it with her.’

‘So I understand.’ I pick up the laptop. ‘Thank you. I think that’s all – at least, for now.’