Oliver’s parents were everything Jessica expected them to be. Their semi-detached house was immaculately kept with a nearly new car on the driveway. Owen Gordon was dressed in almost identical clothes to Cameron and his wife Gabrielle was the epitome of middle-class with dyed hair, perfectly manicured nails and the vague air that she could be worked up into a moral outrage about pretty much anything.

After the two officers were invited into the Gordons’ house, Jessica eyed the surroundings. She could guess from the walls that Oliver was an only child – and a spoiled one at that. There were photos of him at every age all over the hallway, with nothing of anyone else.

In the living room, after confirming much of what she had already been told by Cameron, Jessica moved the topic from the events of the previous evening to Oliver himself. Both of his parents insisted he had been acting normally over the past few days.

They were sitting closely together on the sofa, with Owen holding an arm around his wife’s shoulders. She was close to tears. He clutched a tissue in one hand, nervously brushing at seemingly invisible flecks of dust on the armrest with the other.

‘Has he ever not returned home in the past?’ Jessica asked.

‘Never,’ Owen replied. ‘He isn’t late for anything.’

Jessica had expected as much. She had no reason to believe there was anything untoward from the response – but her parents never knew about the odd occasion she bunked off college with her friend Caroline when they were younger. Teenagers always kept some things back from their parents.

‘Does he have many friends who might know where he’s gone?’ she added.

Oliver’s parents could only offer two names between them. ‘We called them last night and this morning,’ Owen said. ‘Ollie was always good about leaving details just in case.’

After confirming the young man had no particular after-school interests and no part-time job, Jessica was left wondering what he actually did when he wasn’t studying or in his bedroom. From what she had been able to gather, Oliver only had two close friends and rarely left the house. Her standard questions about whether he had ever run away before, or whether they had fallen out recently, were all met with firm denials.

If everything was as claimed, Oliver had been an angelic child since birth who never got into trouble.

‘Does he have a girlfriend?’ Jessica persisted, desperately trying to hear something she could work with.

‘He’s focused on his studying,’ Gabrielle insisted, leaving Jessica to wonder if the woman remembered being a teenager herself. Admittedly Jessica hadn’t been a young male but, from her recollection, seventeen-year-old boys usually only had one thing on their minds – and it certainly wasn’t college work.

Although it wasn’t something she would usually push, Jessica wanted to see if she could get a reaction. ‘Boyfriend?’ she asked, making sure she met both parents’ eyes. She saw a second or two of panic in Owen’s face before he stumbled over a reply.

‘I don’t think he’s into that,’ he said, before clarifying quickly, ‘not that it would be a problem.’

‘I’m just trying to establish something that may have made him upset,’ Jessica said, trying to stay empathetic. ‘Usually when teenagers disappear, it might be because they’ve fallen out with someone, maybe a friend or a parent. Or perhaps they are worried about something?’

Both parents looked on blankly.

‘Do you mind if we have a look around his room?’ Jessica asked. ‘I know you’ve probably checked already. We’re looking for anything that could help.’

Owen untangled his arm from his wife and stood, pointing towards the door, before leading them up a flight of stairs. More photos of Oliver lined the walls: there he was on the beach, in a park, in the garden. Always by himself, always smiling. As they reached the top, the man must have noticed Jessica’s interest because he answered the question she hadn’t asked.

‘There were complications when he was born,’ Owen said. ‘Gabby couldn’t have any more children after Oliver. I know you probably think we’re a bit over-protective but he’s our only child.’ He tailed off before adding: ‘He’s all we have.’

Jessica felt Izzy’s hand touch her gently on the back. No one spoke for a few moments before Owen turned and pointed to a doorway.

‘It’s that room there,’ he said.

The two officers entered and then waited until they had heard the man reach the bottom of the stairs.

‘Are you all right?’ Jessica asked.

Izzy pressed herself up against the back of the door. ‘It’s hard to describe. It’s probably because I’ve been off for so long but, before, it was easier to take a step back and see everything as a case. Now, everyone is someone else’s child.’ She ran her hands through her hair and shook her head dismissively, as if telling herself not to be so stupid. ‘What are we looking for?’

They both knew the question was rhetorical and Jessica didn’t reply. Instead, she stood in the corner and took in the room.

The walls were clear, except for two posters; one that seemed to relate to a video game, the other a print of a Salvador Dalí painting. Oliver had a king-size bed to himself, which was facing a flatscreen television on top of a wide dresser with a games console next to it. A few hardback books were on a bookcase in the opposite corner with a small telescope, but it was mainly occupied by stacks of films as well as a few computer games.

‘Tidy, isn’t it?’ Izzy said.

‘My personal hell,’ Jessica replied. ‘I don’t know what kind of person can put everything away neatly. It’s unnatural.’

As if to emphasise the point, she slid back the door on a wardrobe to reveal orderly rows of shoes and trainers underneath lines of shirts that had been ironed and hung.

‘Anything?’ Izzy asked as she poked through a drawer underneath the television.

‘No – everything’s on a computer or phone nowadays. If he’s still missing in a day or two, we’ll have to get the tech guys in.’

‘We’re wasting our time, aren’t we?’

Jessica sat on the bed, almost bouncing because of the softness of the mattress. ‘Maybe; at least we’ve got a good idea of what he’s like. I reckon his mum still cleans his room, so I doubt he’d leave anything dodgy around. Also, look at the movies, they all have safe age ratings. There’s the odd fifteen or eighteen, but they are mainly things which wouldn’t offend.’ Jessica stopped to feel under the pillow and run her hand along the length of the mattress. ‘I don’t know the kid but it all seems a bit too homely.’

Izzy had turned around to face Jessica and was leaning against the dresser. ‘You’re very cynical,’ she said. Whether it was deliberate or not, Jessica thought her friend’s tone sounded a little harsher than usual.

Before she could reply, the constable apologised. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought that, maybe, it’s nothing to do with Oliver at all. Say he is a bit naive, maybe that’s what attracts other people who might want to harm him? Or use him for something? We don’t know if he left the Sextons’ house voluntarily, if he was taken, or if something else happened.’

‘Actually, that’s exactly what I was thinking too.’

‘Really? I know what you said in the car but I thought that, with the questions downstairs, plus the room, it sounded like you were saying he couldn’t be that sheltered. I thought you were hinting that Oliver was up to something?’

Jessica shrugged. ‘Maybe he is but I doubt it. I think that’s why Jack sent us out here.’

Izzy picked up a snow globe from next to the television and tipped it upside down, before turning it over. ‘Adam’s changed you,’ she said with a smirk.

‘Bollocks he has.’

The constable laughed. ‘Before you would’ve been annoyed at Jack, wondering why he was sending you out to a missing persons case after less than a day. Then you would have been suspicious of Cameron, wondering if he or his wife had somehow killed Oliver – not just joking, really speculating about it. Or thinking it was a big set-up. Then you would have come here and kicked up a stink. Now you take a step back and absorb it all.’