Cackling nastily to himself, Jack made a clean getaway before any of Gene's neighbours could even think about phoning the police.

If there was one thing Gene Hunt had learnt over the past twenty years, it was to trust that copper's instinct. It was nearly always right, and Gene had a gut-feeling that he wasn't where he needed to be as he drove to the station twenty minutes after leaving Alex. She was still traumatised and was having funny turns every blooming minute…so maybe, just maybe, he needed to stay with her today. Screeching the Quattro, Gene changed the direction he was driving in and sped down the roads back to his house, the prospect of seeing Alex again threatening to show on his already half-beaming face.

But when Gene arrived back at his house forty-five minutes later, his face dropped, his stomach felt like it was tying itself in knots and he felt physically sick as anger and fear boiled inside of him.

His door was wide open, swinging on the latch. As he entered the house he saw signs of a struggle by the kicked-up rug and mud stains skidding across his wooden floor.

"ALEX!" Gene bellowed, unashamed. "ALEX?" He frantically searched each room top to bottom trying to convince himself that she was here, she was hiding but she was okay…she was okay.

It was only when the sweat was trickling down his forehead after an unsuccessful search that he heard it. The letterbox clattered and some early morning post fell to the floor. The usual boring bills were tossed aside as Gene found a scruffily written letter with no address on it, as if it had been left outside and then posted kindly by the postman. In block capitals and underlined, it simply said 'HUNT'.

Gene's mouth went dry as he tore the letter open, his eyes drawn to the untidy scrawl of a threatening letter and a photograph that would haunt Gene till the day he died.

The photo was of Alex asleep with Jack on top of her, touching her and fondling her in highly intimate places. Anger burned Gene's heart as tears threatened to spill; Jack was looking at the camera smirking in a superior fashion, grinning lecherously. Looking at the date printed on the back, it told him it was from a few days ago. It was two days before Alex was raped, meaning it must have been one of the first of her nightmare encounters with her ex-husband.

Throwing the photo away as if it had scalded him, Gene turned to the letter desperately. He only hoped Jack had left him a clue; a clue to finding Alex.

Hello Hunt,

Like the photo, did we? I must say, our Alex is one hell of a looker. Great body too, wouldn't you agree? Perfect. She tastes good, Hunt.

I'm only taking what's mine. Why shouldn't I have the pleasure of her? But she seemed to have different ideas. Oh how she screamed when I took what I wanted the other night. I had to give the bitch a good beating, for that's always your specialty, isn't it? I bet if you had the chance to shag her you'd do the same thing.

You didn't save her last time, did you, Hunt? She was crying, hoping you'd come in, but you didn't. Oh how her heart plummeted when big Gene Hunt told her he was leaving.

I doubt you'll be there this time when I take what I want once more. You left her, and now you don't even know where the slag is.

But I'll give you a little clue, Hunt, to ease your Neanderthal brain. Think back to the day you met me, and combine that with our posh, educated Alex Drake. Where does it leave you?

I'm sure she'll lie back and think of you when I take her again later, don't you worry.

J.D.

A few tears spilled from Gene's eyes as Jack's words cut him deep. That bastard. That raping, murdering, low-life scum. Images of what Jack could be doing to Alex kept flashing in his mind, only making him more determined to find her before her worst nightmares happened again.

Gene looked at the clue. The first day he met Jack…well, that was when Jack stuck his tongue down Alex's throat in the middle of CID. Then he left…and Alex dealt with a case with the rest of them.

But what was the case? Gene racked his brains, his breathing increasing. It was connected to Jack; he remembered Bolly saying…that was it! It was the murder case of that young boy, Ricky something. Gene read the next part of the clue: 'combine that with our posh, educated Alex Drake'.

Well, Bolly was privately-educated, a right little prissy private-school girl with a toff's accent to prove it. But what did that…?

Suddenly it clicked as Gene scrambled to his feet. Ricky was murdered by Jack outside an abandoned private school. That was it. That must be where Jack was holding Alex.

"You hold on, Bolls," Gene whispered, "I'm coming for yer!"

----

Alex opened her eyes, pain shooting through them. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed a number of things about her situation. One - that was completely naked apart from her silk knickers and lacy bra. Two – her arms were tied tightly behind the chair she was seated on and three – she was sitting in what seemed to be an old classroom at a school as light poured in through the windows and dusted chairs and tables were bunched up at the back of the room. Also at the back of the room, and waiting for her to come round, was Jack.

Alex squeaked. "No…please…"

"I don't think pleading's helped you much before has it, sweet cheeks?" Jack leered, swaggering up to her. He leant forwards and placed a controlling, wet kiss on her lips. Alex tried to pull away.

"Oh-ho, I don't think so," Jack laughed darkly, "you're mine, sweetheart, and you're going to do exactly what I say."

Jack's hands darted out and began to caress her breasts. "We've got all the time in the world, babe. Gene Hunt's not coming to save you. He never will."