The smell hits her from ten paces away. Not stuffy summer house and mould this time, but a stench of urine, excrement, and sweat.

And terror.

Three officers with their hands over their mouths and noses are blocking the open door when Karen comes striding over.

‘Out of my way,’ she says and watches them gratefully back away to let her through.

A deep breath, then she steps inside.

‘She’s alive,’ she’s told by Cornelis Loots, who is leaning over the rolled-up creature on the bed but not touching her.

‘Go get the doctor,’ Karen orders. ‘He should be here any second. Make sure he finds the right house quickly,’ she adds to Loots, who is already halfway out the door.

A quick look around the room before she walks over to the bed. Yes, she’s alive, she thinks and looks at Luna, who is trying to hug her knees even closer to her chest. As though to protect herself.

‘Turn your torches off,’ she hisses in the direction of the door, where her colleagues have pulled back and are now running their lights over the floor and walls.

She ignores her gag reflex and the impulse to hold her sleeve over her mouth. Instead, she opens the blind as quietly as she can, squats down next to the bed, and gently puts her hand on Luna’s shoulder. Lets it rest there, slowly stroking her with her thumb.

‘Hi, Luna,’ she says. ‘The police are here now and you’re safe. Can you hear me?’

No answer.

‘If you lie very still, I can cut your hands free.’

Still no answer. Luna lies there motionless and tense while Karen pulls her Swiss army knife out of her pocket. Then a soft whimper when she pushes one blade of the scissors in under the cable tie. Then another when it snaps. First one tie, then the other, twisted together in the middle and pulled very tight. Karen winces when she feels the plastic stick to Luna’s skin for a moment before coming loose and she sees the bloody gashes left behind.

Then she puts her hand back on Luna’s shoulder, strokes it while she stands up. Feels her foot bump against the toilet bucket, hears it slosh over, and does her best not to vomit. Moments later, she can sense one of her colleagues coming up behind her and removing the overflowing bucket. She says a quiet thank you without seeing who it is and turns back to Luna.

‘Do you think you’re able to turn over?’

To her surprise, Luna moves. Not slowly, not stiffly, but like a caged animal that has discovered their chain is broken and now wants to break free.