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need to reach everyone who was in there last night, for whatever reason.”
    “The town cameras are covered and we’re awaiting enhancements on the vehicles that passed through between 10.30 and 12.30pm. There’s at least two that are of interest, a BMW and a white Volkswagen van. We shared those with the press so hopefully the drivers will come forward.” He turned to Davies, “Get that fast-tracked, will you?”
    She tucked a stray dark curl behind her ear and nodded.
    “Right, that’s it. Thanks, everyone.” As he made to go, a thought pushed into Jackman’s mind and he whipped around. “I’m sure I don’t need to say it, but this is a very sensitive case that will likely attract international press attention. Undoubtedly, there will be links made with Ellen Readman, speculation that we have another murder, maybe even a serial killer. We have no evidence to suggest this, although its early days and we can’t rule anything out at the moment. So, everything we discuss, every phone call, every tiny piece of information stays in this room, unless either me or DS Davies says otherwise. Agreed?”

    He leant into the screen, pressed rewind and then clicked play. The detective was tall, athletic. Not smooth, but there was a rugged handsomeness about his military stance and chiselled jawline.
    He watched the thirty seconds of footage intently, hanging on every word. As the detective said, ‘If anybody thinks they have seen Min Li, or have any information about her whereabouts we urge them to ring the incident room immediately,’ a smile curled the edge of his lip. No mention of any witnesses. They had no idea where she was. And he’d make sure they didn’t find her either. Not until the time was right.

Chapter Seven
    A damp smell curled my nostrils, pulling me out of my slumber. It wasn’t a dream. This isn’t a dream .
    I folded my body in, bringing every warm fibre together. My skirt felt wet. The stench of ammonia followed quickly as realisation clawed at my insides .
    The sound of the wind caught my attention. Distant branches creaked as they shunted about. It reminded me of the bamboo bending and creaking in the wind back home .
    A bright street filled my mind. The railway bridge and the college in the distance. I imagined myself heading to class, the strap of my satchel bag rubbing against my shoulder, the traffic on the main road drowned out by the hub of college life; the endless conversations of students roaming the campus. The memory was stark. Lauren checking the timetable, keeping me organised. Steph rummaging through her bag. Tom texting. My friends. Did they miss me?
    How long had it been? I considered the time, but no matter how hard I tried to concentrate my thoughts were still foggy. The light that seeped through the tiny gap above me had brightened to daytime. But that didn’t mean a great deal .
    Tom. I remembered shouting at him. The hurt in his face. I pressed hard on the cogs of my brain, forcing them to turn. We were in the Old Thatch Tavern. I left him there. Walked out on my own. That must have been when I was brought here .
    I hauled myself up, placed my hands on the walls and moved slowly around the square box, my fingertips searching every inch of the concrete walls. There were gaps here and there, areas where the concrete had cracked and worn. But no way out .
    I turned my attention to the top. A metal grill sat proud in the centre, covering almost a metre square. It felt cold on my palms, and fiercely rigid. I shook it. Nothing. Not even the slightest movement. Again. This time there was a light shift, and a rattle. I shook harder until tears of anger swelled in my eyes. It juddered slightly and a soft rattle could be heard in the distance, but it remained firmly in place .
    Hot tears stung my cheeks as I focused on the grill. It was covered with a flat piece of wood that almost reached the end, leaving a gap for the narrow slice of light to pass through. I tried to reach for the