Ravi answered.

He would tell her not to give up, even if that’s what the statistics and logic told her to do. ‘Fuck that less than one per cent. You’re Pippa Fricking Fitz-Amobi. My little Sarge. Pippus Maximus, and there’s nothing you can’t do.’

‘It’s too late,’ she said back to him.

He told her it wasn’t too late. She wasn’t at the second location yet. There was still time, and there was still fight left in her.

‘Get up, Pip. Get up. You can do this.’

Get up. She could do this.

She could. Ravi was right. She wasn’t at the second location yet; she was still in the car. And she could use this car to her advantage. Her chances of surviving a car crash were far higher than her chances of surviving a second location. The car seemed to agree with her, the wheels growing louder against a gravel road, urging her on.

Make him crash the car. Survive. That was the new plan.

Her eyes darted to the bottom of the boot door. There wasn’t a latch she could use here, to open the door and roll out. The only way was through the back passenger seats, and from there, throw herself at him, make him lose control of the wheel.

OK: two options. Kick at the back seat, hard enough to break it, fold it down. Or she could climb over the top, in the gap above the headrests. And to do that, all she had to do was remove this cargo cover above her.

Pip went with option two. The cover was rigid – she felt it with her knees – but it could only be attached on two sides by a hook or a mechanism. She just needed to readjust her position, slide down, and then kick up at that corner until it came loose.

The car slowed to a stop.

A stop too long to be just a turning. Fuck.

Pip’s eyes widened. She held her breath so she could hear. There was a sound; a car door opening.

What was he doing? Was he leaving her somewhere? She waited for the slam of the door, but the follow-up sound didn’t come, at least not for several seconds. And when it did, the car peeled off again, slowly. Not nearly fast enough for a crash.

But it was only seven seconds before it drew to a gentle stop again. And this time, Pip heard the handbrake pull up.

They were here.

The second location.

It was too late. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Pip told the Ravi in her head. And, ‘I love you,’ just in case there was any way he could pass it on to the real one.

Car door opened. Car door closed.

Footsteps on gravel.

The terror was back, leaking out of the place at the back of her mind where she thought she’d locked it away.

Pip rounded into a ball, drew her knees up to her chest.

She waited.

The boot door opened.

He was standing right there. But all Pip could see were his dark clothes, up to his chest.

A hand reached forward, pulled at the cover above her head and it retracted, rolling itself up against the back seat.

Pip stared up at him.

A silhouette against the late afternoon sun.

A monster in the daylight.

Pip blinked, her eyes readjusting to the glare.

Not a monster, just a man. A familiarity in the way he held his shoulders.

The DT Killer showed her his face. Showed her the glint in his smile.

It wasn’t the face she thought she’d see.

It was Jason Bell.

Jason Bell was the DT Killer.

The thought was so loud in Pip’s head, louder than the terror. But she didn’t have time to think it again.

Jason bent down and grabbed her elbow. Pip recoiled, smelling the metallic tang of his sweat staining the front of his shirt. She tried to swing her legs out to kick him away, but Jason must have read the thought in her eyes. He leaned down hard on her knees, pinning her legs there. With his other hand, he pulled her up to sitting.

Pip screamed, the sound of it stifled against the tape. Someone must hear her. Someone must be able to hear her.

‘No one can hear you,’ Jason said then, as though he were right there too, implanted in her head alongside Ravi who was now telling her to run. Run. Make a break for it.

Pip flicked her legs out and pushed off against her knuckles. She landed on her feet on the gravel and tried to take a step, but her ankles were bound too tight. She tipped forward.

Jason caught her. Righted her, gravel scuffing around them. He hooked his arm through one of hers, clenching it tight.

‘There’s a good girl,’ he said quietly, absently, as though he wasn’t really seeing her at all. ‘Walk or I’ll have to carry you.’ He didn’t say it loud, he didn’t say it hard; he didn’t have to. He was in control, and he knew it. That’s what all this was about.

He started walking and so did she, minuscule steps against the duct tape. It was slow-moving, and Pip used the time to look around her, study her surroundings.

There were trees. Off to the right and behind her. Encircling them was a tall metal fence painted a dark green. A gate right behind them that Jason must have opened when he’d first left the car. It was still open now, wide open. Taunting her.

Jason was leading her towards an industrial-looking building – iron-sheeting sides – but there was a separate bricked building off to the left. Wait. Pip knew this place. She was sure of it. She took it all in again: the tall green metal fence, the trees, the buildings. And if that wasn’t clear enough, there were five vans parked over there, the logo emblazoned on their sides. Pip had been here before. No, she hadn’t. Not really. Only as a ghost, skulking up and down the road through a computer screen.

They were at Green Scene Ltd.

The complex off a tiny country road in the middle of nowhere in Knotty Green. Jason was right; no one would hear her scream.

That didn’t stop her trying, as they reached a metal door in the side of the building.

Jason smiled, flashed his teeth at her again.

‘None of that,’ he said, fiddling with his front pocket. He pulled something out, sharp and shiny. It was an overloaded ring of keys, different shapes and sizes. He flicked through them, selected a long, thin one with jagged teeth.

He muttered to himself, guiding the key towards the bulky silver lock in the middle of the door. His other arm loosened a little, the arm holding her there.

Pip took her chance.

She slammed her arm down against his and broke the hold.

Freedom. She was free.

But it didn’t get her far.

She couldn’t even take one step before the force of his hand pulled her back, holding her bound arms behind her like a leash.

‘It’s pointless,’ Jason said, turning his attention back to the lock. He didn’t look angry; the expression in the curve of his mouth was closer to amusement. ‘You know as well as I do that that’s pointless.’

Pip did. Less than one per cent.

The door unlocked with the sound of clanging metal and Jason pushed it inward. It screamed on its hinges.

‘Come on.’

He dragged Pip over the threshold. It was dark in here, full of tall, wiry shadows, just one small window high up on the right, barring most of the sunlight. Jason seemed to read her mind again, flicking a switch on the wall. The industrial lights blinked into life with a lazy buzzing. The room was long and thin and cold. It looked like some kind of storeroom: tall metal shelving units down both walls, huge plastic vats stacked up and along the shelves with small taps near the bottom. Pip’s eyes scanned across them; different types of weedkiller and fertilizer. There were two sunken channels in the concrete floor under the shelves, running the length of the room.