After he patched me up, we opened the back door of the van to find four trembling girls. They were malnourished, with dirty clothes and tear-stricken cheeks. It took a lot of gentle persuasion but we were able to convince them that we weren’t here to hurt them.

Warren suggested we take them to a set of abandoned shearing quarters; ones he had found when he attempted to escape a few months ago. The girls would be safe there until I called the police, so would the driver who I left tied to a chair. The bastard can give evidence.

I wish I wasn’t bleeding so heavily. My face is pressed against the passenger window, the cool glass a welcome relief on my cheek. I’m too dizzy to sit up straight. I know this is serious; I’m not naive. I need to get to a hospital, but a part of me wants to drive back to the warehouse and find Lance before he escapes.

The sun is rising now, a warm glow reflecting off the dewy leaves. All I can think of are the nights Meadow and I spent on top of the concrete tank, talking for hours until we would watch the sun rise. I remember the first time she took me up there, it was her fifteenth birthday. I knew she was spending it at home; her mum didn’t let her go out or socialise, other than school and to be honest, at that point in her life, I think Kinsley was too beaten down to even want to be out in the world. She felt more comfortable in her own space than she did surrounded by people. Somehow, the more people that were around, the lonelier she felt

“Can you keep a secret?” Kinsley giggles, taking my hand and dragging me out her bedroom door. She is drunk for the first time in her life. I swear her attempts to tiptoe down the hallway without my hand would lead to her being upside down; there is nothing quiet about her at this moment. We walk out the back door and I help her into her boots. She stumbles again and I catch her, she falls into my chest, still giggling and I tip my head back with my own laughter. When my eyes meet hers again, she is staring up at me through her long eyelashes, I reach out and tuck a wild strand of hair behind her ear.

“Jesse?” she asks, and it snaps me out of my daze. What the hell am I thinking? It must be the alcohol.

“Meadow,” I reply. “Isn’t there something you wanted to show me?”

That snaps her out of it; she smiles and takes my hand again.

“Yeah, it’s this way. C’mon.”