Due Process Read online

  DUE PROCESS

  By

  Jane Finch

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Finchlark Books

  PROLOGUE

  A visit to the park would be a perfect way to start the weekend. Jenny’s parents, Tony and Amanda Purcell, were well known locally, and they nodded and smiled at familiar faces as they ambled along the flower-edged pathway. It was the height of summer and the sunshine was caressing people’s shoulders and beckoning them to make the most of its warmth.

  Jenny held her father’s hand and skipped in time to his steps. Two steps equaled one skip, but she had to concentrate really hard. After all, she was only six years old. Tall for her age, her mother said, and ‘too smart by half’, whatever that meant. She liked the way her hair bounced as she skipped. The braids came half way down her back and it felt like someone was tapping her shoulder. She caught sight of the ribbons, red and white striped. They looked like the American candy canes they hung on the tree last Christmas. Mummy liked American Christmases, she said.

  As they approached the play park Jenny was delighted to see some of her classmates, and ran around the swings, dashed down the slide, and gave bumps to her best friend, Heather, on the seesaw. From time to time, just checking, she paused and glanced over at her parents, waited for their smile and wave, and continued with her game.

  The play park was not very busy, but there was a long queue on the steps to the slide. She stood impatiently beside Heather and they jostled each other playfully. She looked over at her parents and saw them laughing and talking together, her mother’s hand resting casually on her father’s shoulder. He looked up from the book he was reading and his eyes searched for Jenny. She saw a fleeting look of concern, his head turning. When he found her, their eyes locked. No wave this time, just an understanding. We’re here.

  Jenny climbed up two steps. Then two more. As she reached the top she heard her mother calling.

  “Jenny, I’m going for ice-creams. You go and sit with daddy and I’ll bring them over.”

  Jenny nodded, sat carefully on the shiny surface, held up her hands, and slid delightfully to the bottom. She landed on her feet with a cry of triumph. Heather gave her a hug and she walked through the playground and out the wooden gate. Her father was watching her, smiling, book in his lap. He was sitting on the old wooden bench and Jenny looked down at her pink flowered dress and thought she would sit on his lap so any grime from the bench didn’t mess up her clothes.

  Suddenly two men appeared. They stood in front of her father and started to talk to him. He was shaking his head and tried to get up, but they grabbed his arms and dragged him off the bench. He was struggling, and shouting.

  Jenny continued walking slowly, unsure what was going on. One of the men growled, like a dog. He spat and she saw the spittle glistening on the ground. Fear began to reach out to her.

  “Daddy,” she cried.

  The spitter turned to look at her. She hadn’t noticed the man beside her until he towered over her, his huge arms lifting her like she was a ragdoll.

  “You’re coming with me, Sweetpea.”

  Father and daughter’s eyes met briefly, and Jenny watched him struggle as the man began to carry her away. She watched her father, twisting and turning, trying to get free from the two men that gripped him tightly and forced him behind the bench and into the bushes.

  Finally, Jenny’s brain began sending alarm messages and she opened her mouth to scream. At that very moment the man carrying her pressed her head into his chest so that she had to gasp for air, and any noise she might have made became a muffled cry.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Amanda loved her little cottage. It was so typically English, with its beamed ceilings, low doorways and winding stairs. She loved the way the floorboards creaked when she tip-toed across them every morning. The house made her feel comfortable and secure. It had taken a while, but finally it felt like home.

  The branches of the oak tree outside tapped against the leaded window of the bedroom like old friends calling, and she smiled and wrapped her dressing gown around her. The forecast was hot and sunny, but the cottage always took a while to draw in the warmth.

  In the kitchen she began to prepare breakfast, putting on the coffee machine and setting out the tray. She went to the pantry, such a quaint little walk-in cupboard where all the food was kept in the cool and dark, another idiosyncrasy of the cottage. As the door closed behind her she flicked the light switch and jumped as the light buzzed and flashed and then everything went dark.

  For a moment her feet became lead weights and she could not move. Not again! Her heart began thumping so loudly it sounded like the roar of a jet plane, and then the nausea hit as the room span out of control.

  Amanda heard the sound of laughter above her and gasped as the air became thick and cloying, teasing at the scream that was trying to escape from her throat. Memories suppressed for so long came flooding back, tapping at her brain to remind her that all was not as it seemed.

  Quickly she leant against the heaving walls to stop herself from fainting, and forced her lungs to take long, deep breaths. It will pass, she kept telling herself, I’m at home, I’m at home.

  Her hands slid along the inside of the pantry wall until she felt the door, searched for the handle, and flung the door open, taking two steps back and almost falling into the kitchen, where the early morning light was as welcome as water in a desert.

  Gradually her pulse began to slow and the nausea subsided. She’d have to get Tony to change the light and keep a torch on the shelf in the pantry in case it happened again. It had been months since the last attack. She had let herself get complacent, thinking every time would be the last. It never was.

  The coffee machine was buzzing and she poured half a cup of the delicious blend into a china cup and gulped it down and then busied herself with preparing the rest of the meal.

  Amanda walked carefully up the stairs carrying the breakfast tray, an aroma of warm blueberry muffins, sesame toast and Columbian coffee following her like a shadow. Tony was still sleeping and she gently put the tray beside the bed and kissed his forehead. He stirred, looked up at her, and smiled.

  “Smells gorgeous,” he said.

  “Me or the breakfast?”

  “Both,” he said laughing, and pulled her to him. The smell of his cologne tickled her nostrils as she nibbled his ear. She pushed the incident in the pantry to the back of her mind, just like all the times before.

  “Soon,” she murmured, “let’s eat.”

  She scrambled into the bed beside him and they attacked the food. A vibration on the table made him frown. He grabbed his phone and read the text.

  “Not work?” she asked, crunching toast.

  He pressed a button to delete the text and reached for his coffee.

  “Nothing that can’t wait until Monday.”

  “Is work alright, Tony?”

  He shrugged.

  “Just the usual. Petty thieves and criminals. A few interesting cases.”

  As they finished Amanda took the tray and lowered it to the floor and leaned over and stroked his cheek, but he seemed a little distracted.

  “Actually,” he began, “there is one case...”

  Just then the door opened and Jenny wandered in, her strawberry hair disheveled and her sleepy eyes half closed. Without a word she crawled in between her parents and snuggled down. Amanda and Tony looked at each other.

  “Later,” Amanda whispered. Then they all
snuggled down and dozed for a full thirty minutes until Jenny awoke, bright and cheery and eager to start the day. She jumped on top of Tony and they play-wrestled for a while.

  “You little monkey,” he yelled as Jenny ran excitedly from the room, Tony in hot pursuit. Amanda smiled and slipped on her silk dressing gown, the red one that Tony always admired. He said it set off her strawberry-blonde hair. Something Jenny had inherited from her, together with a gritty attitude and the patience of a hungry dog in a dustbin. The robe clung to her like a second skin and she knew it would do little to help Tony forget the earlier promise. She straightened the bed which looked like it had been hit by a tornado, gathered up the tray, and headed downstairs. Jenny was already sitting at the kitchen table and Tony was preparing her breakfast. He glanced up as she entered, looked at her longingly, and gave her a sly wink.

  “What shall we do today?” he asked.

  “Playpark,” squealed Jenny between mouthfuls of Cheerios.

  “Playpark it is then,” declared Tony.

  Amanda smiled to herself as he pressed himself against her as she put the breakfast plates in the dishwasher. She turned and faced him, taking in his tousled dark hair and unshaven face. She could see the mischief in his eyes and couldn’t stop herself leaning forward and kissing him, full on the lips.

  “Playpark. Playpark,” Jenny began, “no time for oodling.”

  “Oodling?” asked Tony, laughing. “Do you mean canoodling?”

  “That’s what I said,” Jenny declared.

  “Okay,” said Amanda, playfully pushing Tony away, “let’s all get dressed and get outside in the sunshine.”

  “You go up,” said Tony, grabbing Amanda’s hand, “mummy and I will be up in a minute.”

  * * *

  The children’s play area was tucked away in the corner and so the only people around were parents watching their children or the occasional couple out for a stroll.

  Amanda paid the ice cream seller, smiled her thanks, dropped the change into her handbag, and scooped up the ice creams from the holder. As she turned everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Her eyes swept across to the bench where Tony had been sitting. She saw him struggling with two men, arms flailing, his mouth open wide, his book floating as if on wings to the floor. At the same time her eyes swiveled to find Jenny, seeing the hulk of a man lift her up into his arms.

  Her eyes that had once been trained for the unexpected took in the distance, the obstacles, the planned route of Jenny’s abductor. He was heading to the far gate, moving quickly, building up speed. It was as the man pushed Jenny’s face into his shoulder that Amanda reacted. The cones were still falling as she set off, willing her legs to move faster. Parents and children barely noticed at first as she hurdled over benches and raced across the grass, assuming she was playing some sort of game. All the time Amanda was gauging the distance to the gate, the time she had left, pushing herself faster and faster. She used every ounce of breath and energy to propel herself forward, and so had no oxygen to waste calling for help.

  The abductor was fumbling with the gate, trying to hold Jenny tight, stopping her screaming. Frustrated, he kicked the gate hard and it swung off its hinges. Amanda was just metres away. He must have heard her because for a moment he paused and turned, and his eyes met Amanda’s. Jenny was wriggling and hitting him in the chest, and in the instant he took to adjust his hold Amanda knew she could catch him. She put her head down and barreled into him, taking the air out of his lungs and forcing him to double over. He still held tight to Jenny, and Amanda forced her knee into his crotch with every ounce of her strength. He grunted and his hands immediately went to protect himself, and he let Jenny go. Amanda grabbed her and wrapped her arms around her daughter.

  The man raised his eyes to meet hers.

  “Bitch,” he hissed, “you’ll pay for that.”

  Then he turned and ran. Amanda began whispering to Jenny, telling her everything was alright. It was over. Even as she cradled her weeping daughter her frantic eyes skimmed the bench, the park, the grass. Tony was gone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The detective’s voice echoed in the tiny office at Walsham Police Station. Amanda was still shaking. The tighter she gripped the coffee mug, the more liquid she spilt. How long she had been sitting there, she was unsure. It seemed like days but it was probably a couple of hours. The Police were being very gentle, but she noticed the Detective Constable becoming fidgety. She couldn’t remember his name. She could barely remember her own.

  “Could you just go over it once more, Mrs. Purcell.?”

  She fought to stop screaming. They were wasting so much time. She took a gulp of the coffee, trying to keep the mug steady, and swallowed with difficulty.

  “Please can this be it,” she pleaded, “I just want to go home. Tony could be there.”

  The Detective nodded.

  “Just take it slowly.”

  Amanda took a breath. Her palms were sweating and she put down the coffee cup. Once more she went over the events at the park, every memory a reminder that her world was collapsing around her.

  The Detective was writing.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Purcell. I’ve made a note of everything. Do you think your husband could have gone somewhere? Met someone? Had an appointment and forgot to tell you?”

  “No, Detective. And if you are insinuating that there is another woman and he might have left us, that’s rubbish. We’re very happy. Tony would not do that. I told you I saw him arguing with two men.”

  “I understand that,” the Detective replied, “but it has been known to happen. Did he take any calls while you were watching Jenny?”

  Amanda thought for a moment.

  “No. He was making notes in some book. I thought it was something to do with his work.”

  “And his work is?”

  “I’ve already told you. He’s a lawyer.”

  “Ah yes. With Morgan and Pacey. In the town.”

  He placed his pen carefully on the desk.

  “Well, Mrs. Purcell, I’ve got officers speaking to the other people in the park, we’ll put out an APB. We’re checking to see if there are any CCTV cameras in the area that might have caught something. The Inspector is on his way in, so he will want to talk with you, and we’re drafting in some officers from other areas to help. In the meantime I suggest you go home and get some rest. And please let us know if Mr. Purcell gets in touch.”

  Amanda picked up her handbag from the back of the chair.

  “You expect me to go home and rest after someone tried to kidnap my child, and my husband is missing? Can you show me where Jenny is, please, I guess it’s up to me to keep her safe.”

  There was a knock on the door and a young policewoman entered, bent down, and whispered in the ear of the detective. A grim look crossed his face.

  “Mrs. Purcell, there’s been a development. If you’d like to come with us, we will accompany you back home.”

  Amanda looked hopeful.

  “What? Have you found him?”

  The Detective shook his head.

  “No, I’m sorry we haven’t.. There’s been a 999 call from one of your neighbours. It seems there is a fire at your cottage.”

  * * *

  Amanda felt numb as the acrid smoke filled the air, piercing the back of her throat and making her cough. Flames rose high above the rooftop and the wail of sirens mixed with the crackle and thunder of the fire. The firemen did their best, shouting to one another to redirect the hoses, and she felt the spray of the water on her face and tasted the sooty air. Crowds milled around her, exclaiming as the beams and roof exploded and lit up the night sky like November the fifth.

  A house fire was big news in a little town, and as well as the police and firefighters and reporters and even a TV crew, she noticed that the townspeople had arrived in droves. Young people had left the youth clubs, single men had left the pubs, and mothers had brought their children. She gripped Jenny’s hand tightly, wondering what else was going
to happen on this day that had changed her life so dramatically.

  The headlines tomorrow would say that her traditional Norfolk cottage had been destroyed by a fire. Cause unknown. This news would keep the town busy for many days, if not longer.

  Black tendrils of smoke hovered above the onlookers, like a giant octopus stalking its prey. She felt a surge of anger at the spectators chatting to one another as her lovely home began to creak and collapse. Was it only six years ago, just before Jennifer was born, when they had first seen the house and fallen in love with it? She loved the character of the pristine white cottage, with its lattice windows and pillar box red front door. All the lovely roses around the front of the house were now blackened ashes. Laughter and love had filled this home, and now all those memories were destroyed in an instant, carried away in the devilish breath of the fire.

  She thought back to that morning. How quickly life can change.

  But her anger evaporated with the smoke as one person after another came to console her. There were hugs, and offers of help, and condolences. Someone brought her a mug of tea. These people shared her pain.

  Just a few hours ago she had a husband she loved, a daughter she adored, a beautiful home, and an exciting future ahead. Now her husband was missing, her home was destroyed, and all she owned was the clothes she stood up in and the contents of her handbag. She looked down at her daughter, who had only her crumpled pink flowered dress , and a pair of grubby sandals. Jenny’s hand grew rigid as the fire crackled and burned.

  “I want my daddy,” she whispered, tears falling down her face.

  “The police will find him,” said Amanda, pulling Jenny close, “I promise. If they don’t, then I’ll find him myself.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was difficult living on a thirty foot boat, but it was the only place she could think of to go. And the only possession they had left. At least it was familiar to Jenny. They’d never been on the boat without Tony, though. Somehow the movement of the cabin, the whoosh of the water as it caressed the sides, the pounding of the rain on the roof – it all sounded exaggerated. Tony would have laughed at her.