The consequences barraged Ben in a torrent of tales and warnings, all spoken in Sparling’s voice. Never had he felt so foolish nor so destructive. Worse still, the repercussions were not his alone to suffer. That he could have lived with.

‘Chloe,’ he called out.

When no answer came, Ben struggled to his feet. He found her dug into the blankets, like something broken beyond repair.

‘Chloe,’ he repeated, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

The excuse sounded more pathetic than he expected. How could she ever forgive him?

Chloe reached for his hand and drew him down beside her. The firelight gleamed atop the table, glinting through his glass and the bloody puddle above its stem. Ben felt sick. The wine had risen as far as his throat, but he forced it back down, burning like acid all the way.

‘It’s okay,’ Chloe said, squeezing his hand. ‘It’s not your fault.’

Ben imagined a missing person’s poster like Carol Fortune’s. Only now, Chloe’s face occupied the frame, pleading with everyone and anyone to find her.

Nobody would know their last movements or what had happened to them. No names, no places, not a single loose link to tie him to the terrible truth. They would vanish like the others and Alec Sparling alone would know why. He would live on to repeat the process all over again with another team. Ben took out his phone, hands twitching.

‘What are you doing?’ Chloe asked.

‘Barry,’ he replied, swiping through his contacts, trying to focus his mind to perform a task as simple as making a call. Ben didn’t know how he was going to explain it to him. But he had to try.

‘It’ll be okay,’ Ben said, drawing the phone to his ear.

He had no time to think. The phone rang twice and the man answered with his customary, ‘Barry.’

‘I need your help,’ Ben said, trying to temper his words. ‘I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t believe me, but it’s all true. Sparling tried to warn me.’

‘Slow down,’ Barry said. ‘You’re not making any sense. What’s the matter?’

‘He’s outside.’

‘Who’s outside?’

There was so much the detective needed to know for any of this to make sense. As panic-stricken as Ben was, he needed to decompress.

‘Who’s outside?’ Barry repeated impatiently.

That question would have to wait. Ben knew first-hand the intolerance of a sceptical mind.

‘We went to see him,’ Ben explained. ‘I was right. Sparling’s responsible for Carol Fortune’s murder. There were other teams, too, and they’re all gone, dead, missing; whatever you want to call it.’

‘Did you say Carol Fortune’s murder? You’re telling me that Alec Sparling killed her.’

‘No,’ Ben replied, ‘the one that killed her is outside. He’s standing outside the window.’