Due Process

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.