He feels his heart racing. Perhaps if he stands and climbs up the steps a little bit he’ll be closer to the door and they will hear him. He tries to pull himself up but his grip is too weak and he falls to knees. The iron band around his wrist clangs and echoes on the steel bannister. It’s then that remembers what Ben told him.

‘If you can’t shout then make a noise! Any noise, just make it loud!’

Jordan lifts his arm and begins to clang the iron band on the bannister. It stings his wrist and he feels the blisters opening again, but he doesn’t care.

He clangs over and over again until he fires up inside and doesn’t stop.

Chapter 51

51

ARCHER WAKES TO THE SOUND of running water and a distant repetitive tapping noise.

Her eyes blink and she struggles to clear her vision. She is lying on what feels like cold steel. Her face and the side of her head feel sticky and warm.

The smell of formaldehyde fills her nostrils. In seconds it all comes flooding back to her.

Her eyes snap open.

She tries to focus but her head pounds. Her hands and feet are bound with plastic tie wraps. She stares at her limbs in disbelief. She has been stripped to her underwear. Her stomach lurches and she feels her anger begin to bubble.

She sits up and feels the ground beneath her wobble. But it’s not ground. She is on top of a gurney.

Terror swarms through her.

Her eyes scan the room. More stainless-steel cabinets and a sink. It’s like a morgue. But more disturbing than that is the coffin-sized vitrine, with a hose hooked over the side, slowly filling with liquid.

Her skin erupts in goose bumps.

The tapping noise is still present. It echoes through her pounding head.

She needs to act and wonders where her things are. Her phone should still be in the house somewhere and she prays that Klara and Quinn have tracked her location.

She hears a key turning and a door creaking open.

Looking towards the sound, she sees the green of rubber boots and a protective suit descend a short wooden staircase.

Jamie smiles at her. ‘You’re awake. That’s good. No need to cry out, Grace. No one can hear us down here.’ He gestures around the room. ‘Soundproofing.’ He smells the air, his eyes close and he smiles as if he is taking in a vintage wine. ‘I adore the smell of formaldehyde. Don’t you? So sweet . . . so practical . . . although I prefer to think of it as magical. Time ceases with it, decay is halted and beauty is preserved.’

Despite her anger, Archer trembles inside.

‘What are you doing, Jamie? This is crazy. Please, you’ve got to stop.’

He ignores her and removes a white plastic bottle with a red cap from one of the cabinets.

More formaldehyde.