A voice as smooth as silk. No hint of strain or animosity. Quite caring and kind, which only made it all the more chilling.

Jessica Bradford tried to scream, to moan, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. A fabric gag stuffed in her mouth prevented anything more. She was sitting on the cold, hard floor, arms behind her, handcuffed around a metal post. She still had on the same mini skirt and lycra top that she’d worn to the bar however many days ago it’d been, though her clothes were now dirtied and torn, revealing even more of her cleavage, and her knickers and legs had been soiled more than once.

The figure in front of her, cast in shadow from the glare of the light, moved forwards and pulled the gag from Jessica’s mouth, then stepped over to a workbench barely visible at the side of the room. She realised now, as her eyes continued to adjust, that her small handbag sat atop the wooden worktop.

‘What do you want from me?’ Jessica murmured, after taking a few moments to compose herself. ‘They’ll find me,’ she said, now showing a bit more fight.

Of course, she’d already begged and pleaded and shouted and threatened plenty since she’d been here, but it had made no difference and now her efforts were far more half-hearted and desperate.

‘Who will?’

‘My friends. My family,’ she said. ‘The police. Whatever you do to me, they’re going to find me. And then they’ll find you. But if you let me—’

‘Uh-uh, not another word. Please don’t attempt to make promises that you can’t possibly keep. If I let you go you won’t tell anybody? I mean, Jessica, come on. Have you any idea how silly that sounds? Do you really expect that I would ever believe that?’

‘I promise,’ Jessica sobbed.

‘No. That’s enough of that. And you’re wrong about them finding you. Very wrong.’

‘They’ll find me!’ Jessica blasted. ‘My parents will never stop looking.’

‘Now that’s two different statements, Jessica. One is possibly true, the other absolutely isn’t. Perhaps your mum and dad really will keep on looking, once they realise you haven’t jetted off with a new love. But they’ll never find you. Not even a trace.’

The figure picked up Jessica’s handbag and started rummaging through the contents.

‘I read an amazing story recently, about a man and a woman who were hiking in Yellowstone National Park in America. I’ve never been but I really would love to go. Anyway, these two were hiking, but they decided to head off the beaten track, going beyond warning signs which indicated the dangerous nature of the landscape. Perhaps they were daredevils and wanted to see something that all the other tourists don’t get to see. They wanted to go hot potting. Have you heard of that?’