There were monasteries that were flouncy, adorned debutantes, showing off on the ballroom floor with their spiderweb arches, delicate carvings and high curved windows. This monastery was one of the grim-faced old chaperones stuck in the corner, sucking its teeth at the frivolity before it.

The entrance was a simple gothic arch of stone with a thick oak double door.

‘We’ll do a sweep of the ground floor first.’ The chief of the security team was called Len, a no-nonsense, stocky man in his fifties. He had been unfailingly polite, but Thea got the distinct impression that he thought this was as much a waste of time as Harriet did. ‘Best to stay with me. The floors in these old places can be lethal.’

The sky had started to darken and bruise, turning a Hallowe’en green at the skyline as fresh snow built up.

‘We’ll have to make this quick,’ Len had said. ‘We don’t want to be caught in that.’

Based on what Thea had told them, they had decided to skip the main nave and chapel and head towards the two-storeyed living quarters, where the windows looked out over the path the three of them had taken about a week ago.

‘They could be long gone now,’ Ethan muttered to her.

Thea was glad she’d pushed for him to accompany them. It had been a last-minute idea, one she had been surprised to find had been allowed.

‘Really? He can come too?’ she had said to Harriet.

‘I pulled some strings,’ Harriet had replied, pushing her glasses higher up her nose. ‘And Rory, your sleep technician, he put in a good word. In my opinion, if it gets this foolishness sorted out quickly, you can take the whole Centre with you.’

Despite it being mid-morning, the inside of the monastery was a wet cold that, when breathed in, would grow like mould on the bones and stiffen the fingers.

‘Mind your step, miss.’ Len helped Thea over a pile of fallen rubble.

Her mind was still stuck in what she had seen yesterday in the hospital room: tortoise-Richard and his rage, that wild-eyed glare as he had struggled and then the realization at the end when he’d locked gazes with her. What had happened? What had the trial done to him?

They hurried through the echoing main nave and Thea only caught a glimpse of empty pews, broken glass and a ceiling so high it was lost in the gloom. Once, in this place, people had lit candles and prayed. There had been warmth and devotion; but also in this place there had been abuse and unhappiness: dark corners where darker things could be hidden.

They moved on.