The rain splattered down around them as he glanced about surreptitiously, then knelt down and pulled up the rusty metal shutters with a loud clanking noise, leaving just enough room for them to duck underneath into the black interior beyond. He crouched down and entered the warehouse.

Bailey stood there in the rain, trying to make up her mind whether this was a very bad idea or not. Her sixth sense wasn’t ringing red alarm bells just yet. Maybe it was fine. Maybe…

‘What are you waiting for?’ he said from the other side.

Fuck it. She ducked down underneath the shutters and followed him in.

Straightening up on the other side, she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim cavernous interior. A second later, the smell hit her – that distinctive stench of burnt hair and toasting flesh, rounded off with a discernible odour of shit. It was the indisputable smell of pain and fear and it sent a powerful bolt of dread through her.

She trailed after Rick as he strode ahead through the chilly gloom, making his way through a doorway at the back into a dingy corridor with a yellow light at the far end. She could now make out the sounds of voices ahead of them, and the closer they got, the more the acrid smell grew in pungency.

The corridor opened out into a stark concrete room illuminated solely by the glare of a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. In the centre of the room was a naked man tied to a chair. His hands were bound behind his back with cable ties and silver duct tape was wrapped around his mouth. His heavily muscled body glistened with perspiration. He was slumped forward, his head hanging downwards, his hair matted with sweat, and he was shivering uncontrollably. There was a large puddle of urine on the floor and globules of faeces dribbled down the side of the chair.

Standing around him were various members of the Molloy family, the yellow light from the bare bulb casting demonic shadows across their features. Nancy, clad in a dark fur coat holding Ettie in the crook of her arm; Shane, arms crossed, chewing gum with a sadistic grin on his face; Stephen, holding a video camera trained on the man in the chair; Archie, clutching a steam iron in one hand, still wearing his sunglasses. By the almost jocund expressions they bore, it seemed like they were enjoying it as a family day out.

‘I told you not to start before I got here,’ said Rick angrily.

‘I’m sorry, Ricky. I got ahead of myself,’ Nancy replied. ‘And Archie here was just raring to go.’

Archie grinned and pressed a button on the iron making it emit a gust of steam. The man in the chair flinched reflexively at the hissing noise. Bailey knew the steam iron wasn’t here because they wanted to keep their clothes neat and pressed.

Nancy turned to Bailey with a welcoming smile. She looked genuinely pleased to see her.