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She had to return to the scene of the crime.

Stalking away from Southampton Central, Helen had been at a loss as to how to proceed.

She had let the missing women slip through her fingers, failed to interest the authorities in their plight and destroyed her decade-long friendship with Charlie.

The pair had fought hand in glove for years now, pulling each other up off the canvas on too many occasions to count, but now Helen had driven a wedge between them, one which might prove irreparable.

There was no question of giving up, however, so Helen did the only thing she could do, racing back to the money transfer outlet for another confrontation with the owner.

She knew that a full-frontal assault would yield little – it would only serve to antagonize him, especially when he knew she had no right to demand anything of him.

She could perhaps try to bribe him for information – money was something that Helen did not lack – but would he really take the bait, when he presumably stood to make far more by continuing his ongoing relationship with the people traffickers and their enslaved workers?

No, she would have to appeal to his conscience, hoping that his loyalty to his country, his kinsmen, would win out, especially as these poor women were clearly being exploited by local Southampton thugs.

What the hell was going on here? How embedded was this guy with the traffickers?

To willingly give up ten days business suggested either that he had a lot to gain in playing ball or that he was too scared to say no.

Either way, Helen knew that the ‘Staff Training’ was just a ruse to stop her or the police having any further access to the owner or his staff.

But what did this say about the criminals that controlled Selima and the other women?

Just how powerful were they, how wide was their reach?

For the first time since the attack on Selima, Helen felt a little unnerved. What exactly was she dealing with here?

Stepping back, Helen craned to look up at the shabby terraced building.

On the upper floors, the curtains were drawn, despite the fact that the sun was still shining.

Was the owner hiding out up there, praying that if he did nothing, kept his head down, the strange woman would go away?

That normal service could resume? Outraged at his callousness, Helen strode forwards, hammering on the metal grille with her fists.

‘Come down and face me,’ she commanded. ‘Come down and face me, you coward …’

The noise echoed down the quiet street, eliciting little but a startled look from an elderly pensioner pushing her shopping trolley along the pavement.

Ignoring her dark look, Helen peered up at the building, clocking the curtains twitch on the second floor.

Was that him? Looking down at her, fretting, as he assessed his options?

Enraged, Helen beat on the grille once again: harder, louder, faster.

‘Come down here, you …’

Her verbal barrage petered out as she vented all of her frustration, her anger, her desperation on the quivering barrier.

She was hot, she was bothered, but still she didn’t relent, pounding repeatedly on the shutter as if signalling the end of days.

Slowly, however, her energy deserted her, her violent efforts petering out as her body lost power, as she was overcome by another powerful wave of nausea.

Stepping away from the forbidding metal, Helen swayed slightly, suddenly seized by dizziness.

For a moment she thought she was going to topple over, to fall down in a dead faint, but instead she turned sharply, bending over quickly before emptying her guts onto the pavement.

Once, twice, three times she retched and then she was done, shocked and exhausted, with the sour taste of defeat in her mouth.

For a moment, she remained there, bent double and reeling, before becoming aware of a looming presence next to her.

Darting a wary look up, Helen saw the elderly shopper looking at her with contempt.

‘Drunk at this hour? It’s disgusting.’

The pensioner went on her way, muttering bitterly, full of scorn for modern life and the prevalence of drunks in the city centre. But Helen knew that drunkenness was not the problem here. No, she feared, she knew it was something far worse.