But he saw the door open and beyond the big detective saw her slip out. The DS turned to watch, then put his attention right back on Nick.

‘Give her a moment. She’s got a lot to process tonight. So, from your garden to a lock-up garage in the city centre…’

Black with them closed, and black when he opened his eyes again. The pain in his head told him he wasn’t dreaming. Cold all along his left side, which ceased when he rolled over. Now, he saw light in a thin strip and crawled towards it. A metal door, which rumbled when he hit it head first. His head was still swimming, and he failed to stand. But there was nothing wrong with the power in his muscles. His fingers scraped along the floor, dug into a gap between it and the sharp bottom of the door, and lifted. A roller shutter, which ground its way up slowly. Light crawled in and he crawled out.

He found himself on gravel beside a road. A lock-up garage. Similar garages ran away left and right, and ahead, far side of the road, was a tall hedge before a wide and tall brick building. High up on that building was a sign that said, NEXT. Clothing store, he realised. But he had no idea where he was.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he said. His eyes flicked left and right, as if seeking the source of his brain’s cry, as if part of him had registered a danger the rest wasn’t aware of. No one around, though.

Three men flickered into existence and the concrete beneath him changed to grass. But a moment later men and grass were gone. He got to his feet and it happened again. Like a subliminal image in a film reel, grass instantly sprouted under his feet and black-clad men materialised. Just for a flash of a second. He remembered them, he realised.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he shouted. But the men had gone.

He started to stagger. The open street once again turned into his back garden and three men in black appeared to block his way. They rushed him, but this time they winked out of existence just as one was swinging something at his head. Still, he jerked back, one arm up to defend himself.

Then he remembered Josie. Poor Josie. Her window, opened by one of the men. Poor Josie, gone. They had taken her. He dropped to his knees on the gravel and stinging pain knocked the cobwebs away.

A scraping noise turned his head. Other side of the road, by the hedge, a man and a woman were quickly walking by. They seemed not to have noticed him. He opened his mouth to yell for help—

‘Who the hell are you?’ he shouted instead. Their pace quickened, and they didn’t look at him. He tried to approach, but his legs gave way and he tumbled.