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They were battered, they were bruised, but they had won.

All was chaos in the dusty farmyard as the liberated workers embraced their freedom.

High on blood lust, ecstatic, they tore through the farmhouse, gorging themselves on the delights of the kitchen, pulling clothes from the wardrobes, revelling in the piping hot water, but Helen ignored this gruesome carnival, doggedly placing one foot in front of the other as she made her way to the main gates.

The ambulance was on its way and all that mattered now was getting Viyan to safety.

Despite her rapidly fading strength, Helen cradled the young mother in her arms, determined to deliver her personally into the care of the paramedics.

Despite the meagre weight of the emaciated worker, Helen found the going incredibly hard.

She had been burned, beaten and strangled, her aching, beleaguered body already a riot of bruising, and she swayed back and forth as she staggered towards the road.

This had been one of the darkest, most difficult days of her life and it was hard to summon the resolve to keep going, her buckling legs threatening to give out at any point.

Despite this, she kept moving, her mission, her purpose clear.

Viyan, a young mother of three, needed help and Helen was going to ensure she got it.

If Viyan survived this, if she managed to recover, to embrace her life again, then perhaps some good could be culled from the wreckage.

This is what propelled Helen on now, the image of Viyan reunited with her children once more.

Their joyous, youthful faces had been such a tonic first thing this morning and she clung to their exuberance now, imagining the overwhelming happiness and relief Viyan and her family would feel when reunited.

Although she had a long road to travel, Viyan’s cruel nightmare was over and with a bit of luck and a lot of determination, a better future awaited her.

Helen had money and though she knew instinctively that Viyan would not want charity, there was nothing to stop her getting the young mother and her family back on their feet.

A terrible natural disaster had driven Viyan into the hands of the worst of humanity.

It was Helen’s job now to show that in the end goodness, love and compassion always prevailed.

Sweat creasing her filthy brow, Helen battled on.

To her immense relief, however, she now saw blue lights up ahead, an ambulance bumping down the dirt track towards them, a police car close behind.

Now finally, she admitted defeat, dropping to one knee to rest, as she continued to cradle the injured woman.

Moments later, the ambulance pulled up alongside them, the doors flying open as the paramedics hurried over.

‘Twenty-seven-year-old female, with severe burns and possible damage to lungs. Her name’s Viyan and she’s from Turkey. She has no family here, so for now I’m your point of contact. My name is—’

‘We know who you are, DI Grace,’ the paramedic replied, smiling warmly. ‘Right, Viyan, let’s get you to hospital ASAP, shall we?’

Stepping forward the young paramedic and his colleague gently hoisted Viyan from Helen’s arm, transferring her swiftly to the back of the ambulance.

Rising to her feet and dusting herself off, Helen felt an uncharacteristic surge of pride, pleased that the paramedics had recognized her, that her service and dedication to the people of Southampton had not been entirely forgotten.

She was still the woman she’d always been, capable of doing good, of protecting the weak and the vulnerable, of making a difference.

The ambulance was already on its way, blues and twos blaring, a curious PC now making his way over from his patrol car towards her.

Helen had a long, strange tale to tell him, but as she prepared to recount her recent adventures, her phone started buzzing urgently in her pocket.

Tugging it out, she was surprised to see that it was DC McAndrew calling.

‘Hello Ellie,’ Helen said brightly, as she answered the call. ‘Have you got your Dutchman in cuffs yet?’

There was a long, pregnant silence, DC McAndrew’s short, gasping breathing the only sound.

‘Ellie, are you OK? What’s wrong?’ Helen demanded, suddenly on edge.

‘I’m fine,’ she gasped, her voice riven with anguish. ‘It’s Charlie.’

Helen froze, a sickening, terrifying fear stealing over her. Her voice shaking, she demanded:

‘What do you mean? What’s happened to her?’

Helen waited breathlessly for a response, her heart pounding in her chest. But DC McAndrew didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, simply bursting into tears instead.