‘I’ve been in here on numerous occasions and I’ve never noticed anything which resembles a well,’ said Amber.

‘It’s not going to be obvious,’ replied Bailey. ‘So we need to be methodical. Let’s split up. We’ll find it more quickly that way. I’ll do this side and work my way down to the back of the room. Poppy, you can look over there to the right, by the racking. And, Amber, how about if you cover this part over here by the doorway? That way you can also keep an eye on anyone who might disturb us. You’re our best protection against them now.’

They both nodded and the three of them went their separate ways.

Bailey paced slowly down the length of the laundry, the scattered granules of detergent powder crunching beneath the soles of her trainers. She looked from left to right and up and down, trying to detect any feature that might have once been a well or that might now conceal a well. But, just as before, there was nothing, just a lot of machinery and a great deal of dirty linen.

She reached the end of the room and halted next to the bank of top-loading washing machines that lined the back wall. She turned around and looked back the way she had come. Was there any clue in the layout of the laundry? She tilted her head one way and then the other, as if the difference in perspective might yield some insight. But it didn’t.

She was starting to get worried. She had been staking everything on the well. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe there was no well. In which case…

She didn’t want to think about it.

There had to be a well. And it had to be in here somewhere.

She wondered how the others were doing.

‘Any luck?’ she called out.

There was no answer.

She walked forward a few steps in the direction of the door and then stopped. She peered around for the other two, but they were nowhere to be seen. And she couldn’t hear them either. The laundry was completely silent.

‘Found anything yet?’ she said in a loud voice.

But still there was no answer.

Apprehension rippled through her.

‘Poppy?’ she said.

No answer.

Bailey walked forward slowly.

‘Amber?’ she called.

No answer.

The silence was now heavy and oppressive. She could hear her heart thumping in her chest.

Unsettled, she headed over to the racking. The hanging sheets billowed ever so slightly as she made her way between them, pushing them aside.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She could feel it in her gut. As a policewoman she’d learned to trust her instincts and right now an alarm bell was going off in her head.

Ahead of her a sheet briefly billowed aside and she got a partial glimpse of a trainer-clad foot lying sideways on the floor.

A sinking feeling of dread came over her.

‘Oh shit,’ she whispered.

She hurried forward, pushing the sheets aside, her mouth dry, her heart hammering harder than ever.