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control room.

Dive Team HQ, South Shields – 8 November

Elvie stretched with a yawn. It was toasty under the tarp, but she’d been there for over two days now and had barely moved. After everyone had gone last night, she’d raided the fridge again, bringing some snacks down to her ‘den’. She’d even found a shower room and, once she’d figured out how to turn it on, had washed her hair and herself. Her dress was still smelly, though she hadn’t managed to find any clothing to wear while she washed it.

Pulling herself out from under the tarp, she shivered as a blast of cold air hit her. Peeking out through the window of the rear door, she saw the shimmer of frost on the windscreen of the vehicles in the backyard. It was icy cold: she wasn’t used to weather like this. If she was going to leave the confines of the building she’d been staying in, she’d need warmer clothing.

Frowning, she realised that a big part of her didn’t want to leave. She knew she should: the chance of getting caught if she stayed was high; she was in a police station, after all. But it felt safe. If she left she didn’t know where she’d go, or if anyone would help her.

Climbing up the stairs to the break room, she pulled some more chocolate bars from the fridge, folding the bottom of her dress up a little to hold them.

She’d found the kettle and figured out how to turn it on to heat water and had found the staff coffee and tea. She’d tried both, the coffee making her nose curl with its bitterness. But she liked the tea. Belatedly realising she had to put the chocolate bars down to make a hot drink, she dumped them unceremoniously on the table.

No one was here, anyway.

She hummed to herself as she made her drink, an old song Noni had sung to her when she was little. It was in her native tongue and it made her feel safe, ‘sleep now, youngest one, your mother is far away, and she can’t come for you.’

Picking up the chocolate bars, she turned and made her way back to the stairs.

Maybe I won’t leave. Maybe I’ll just stay here instead. I like it here.

She pushed open the door at the top with her hip, then froze as she heard the bottom door open and footsteps start coming up.

Oh my God. There’s someone coming!

She felt her heart pounding in her chest as panic threatened to keep her frozen to the spot. If she stayed though, she knew she’d get caught. Turning quickly, she pushed open the door to the female toilets and entered. She went into a cubicle, silently put the chocolate bars and the hot cup down on the top of the loo and sat on the seat.

Terrified, she couldn’t stop shaking. If they find me, they’ll send me back to that house, I can’t go back there. They’ll kill me. Please don’t find me!

She jumped as the top door of the stairs closed with a crash; it was spring loaded and if it wasn’t caught, then it shut itself, loudly. She imagined she could hear footsteps outside in the corridor that led to the break room, and she would have sworn she heard them stop outside the toilets.

Holding her breath, she waited for the bathroom door to open.

But it didn’t.

She heard another door open and close somewhere further past the restroom, and deciding that now was the time, she moved from her position. Gathering up her snacks and drink, she snuck out of the bathroom, tiptoed back to the stair door and opened it. She tried not to breathe in case someone was lying in wait for her, and cocked her head to one side, listening for any sound that the person was nearby.

Only silence greeted her though, so she went through the door, using her hip to close it softly so that the only sound it made was a click. She wanted to run down the stairs and hide under her tarp and never come back out. But she couldn’t. If she ran, she’d spill her tea and someone would realise. So she silently went down the stairs, navigated around the piles of equipment and found the place she’d been calling home. Pulling the tarp over her head, she sat and finally exhaled.

That was close. I need to be more careful. She wrapped her now cold hands around the warm mug of sweet tea and took a couple of sips.

Noni had loved her tea, preferring it freshly brewed from a pot rather than the bagged form that was more popular. And because Noni had enjoyed it so much, Elvie had been brought up on it. It had been a tradition of sorts, Noni having a cup ready for Elvie before bedtime, and Elvie getting up and having a pot ready when her gran had got up in the morning.

Thinking about her gran made her sad. It had been so hard. People telling her what to do and how to act during the funeral. Her great-aunt had taken care of the arrangements, but they’d never been close. The only person that mattered to Noni was Elvie, and Noni’s sister had always been jealous of their close bond. The second the funeral was over, her aunt had left Elvie in the house on her own, saying she’d come and sort out Noni’s things in a couple of days. But she hadn’t come back.

Elvie didn’t know why. She didn’t know how the men had known to take her either. All she knew was that she wished she was back there, with Noni still looking after her.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the outer door opening again, and more footsteps heading up the stairs. Snuggling down into

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