It looked like a dead animal had been dumped on the middle of his bed. A lump of dark hair held together by something damp enough to reflect the light. He could see a clump of white flesh the size of a fist jutting out from the hair; it finished with what looked like an untidy roll of black skin. The white bed linen was badly stained, a smudge of something dark, almost black, but he knew it was blood. Loud laughter suddenly erupted along the corridor and he panicked, stepping in as far as he dared; not quite enough, as the spring had the door nudge him in the back. He shuffled another inch and the door clicked shut. The smell seemed instantly worse. Danny took a step closer. He managed to break away to peer into the bathroom then around the room. Nothing else seemed out of place. He was soon fixed back on the lump of fur that was heavy enough to make a dint in the bed. He stepped round the foot of the bed. The first detail he made out was a pale ear lobe pushing out from between dark hair. Danny’s hand shot to his mouth, but his steps continued. He was unable to take his eyes off it, unable to even blink. As terrified as he felt he needed to know for sure what it was.

It was a human head. What was left of Marcus Olsen. It looked different from when he’d seen it before, like a wax version – or a movie prop. But the smell, the flies that lifted and fell back to disturb the long hair – he could be in no doubt. This was real. When he stopped he was on the other side of the bed, which now acted like a barrier to his way out. The covered window was directly behind him. The head was laid out on its side, now facing him, the eyes part bloodshot, part yellowed and the mouth open to reveal teeth stained with blackened blood. A black fly lifted from a separate patch of lighter red that was further up the bed. He watched as it dropped straight back down again.

A phone rang.