Snatched

by Stephen Edger

  A noise behind him caused him to turn. The door handle was rattling. Somebody was coming into the room.

  Boller panicked and poked his left leg out of the window, pausing so that he could sit on the lower frame of the window. A cool breeze blew on the toes of the outstretched leg. He heard the door behind him open and it was all the encouragement he needed to swing his right leg up and out into the night air. He was now sitting on the window frame with both legs dangling perilously over the edge. For his plan to work, he would need to swivel from his bottom to his waist, before slowly lowering himself until he was only holding onto the ledge by his fingertips.

  As he heard footsteps enter the room, he vaulted his body around so that the frame was digging into his belly and he could see Sarah’s dad, striding towards him. There was hatred in the old man’s eyes that caused Boller’s eyes to widen. There was no turning back now. The old man would not be satisfied until he had inflicted pain on him. It was now or never.

  The thought of falling through the air, to certain injury was preventing Boller from moving. He knew that if he didn’t start to lower himself soon, the old man would be upon him and his chance of escape would be gone.

  Boller tried to feel for the brickwork of the outer wall with his toes. He moved from leaning on his belly, to leaning on his elbows and slowly moved his right elbow out so that his right hand held the ledge. All he needed to do now was push his left elbow out and cling on with his left hand.

  ‘Oh no you don’t!’ came the old man’s voice as he gripped hold of Boller’s collar.

  The surprise forced Boller’s elbow out, and now he was clinging to the edge of the window frame with outstretched fingers. The old man’s grip was tight on his shirt, but Boller knew that if he let go of the ledge, the old man wouldn’t have the strength to keep him from dropping. The fear of letting go, still gripped Boller and so he continued to hang from the ledge, with the old man holding onto him.

  Boller could hear Sarah calling out to her father somewhere further back in the room.

  ‘Let go of me, old man!’ Boller yelled up into his captor’s face.

  The old man seemed to consider the demand, and glanced back at his daughter, before releasing his grip on Boller’s shirt. Boller grinned as he realised he was now free to drop and hopefully get away. What he didn’t expect was for the old man to reach out, grip onto the window’s handle and pull it closed.

  Boller’s eyes widened once more, as he realised his fingers were going to get caught in the closing window and that the decision to let go would be thrust from his hands. Before he could react, he felt the plastic window frame begin to squeeze the fingers of his right hand.

  He let out a scream of agony and his left hand shot across to try and protect his right hand, but as it did, he lost his grip on the window, and then he was falling through the air, bottom first, with his hands, arms, legs and feet flailing.

  Boller knew he was in a bad way, as soon as he connected with the onrushing ground. He heard a definite snap, as bones broke and the shock of what had happened, kept him flat against the floor, unable to move.

  48

  Sarah was perched on the end of her bed, when the Paramedics arrived at the flat. She was drinking from a glass of water, still nursing the worst kind of headache she had ever experienced. One of the paramedics remarked how pale she looked, and upon seeing the various trails of blood around the hallway and bedroom, he indicated it would be a good idea to get her to hospital, sooner rather than later. Her father had draped a dressing gown around her shoulders, and the same paramedic asked her if she felt able to walk or whether it would be better to strap her to a stretcher. Sarah attempted to stand to show she was capable of walking but the second paramedic soon ushered her to sit back down, when she noticed the damage to Sarah’s pelvic area.

  The decision was made and a stretcher was fetched from the nearby-stationed ambulance. Five minutes later, Sarah was in the ambulance, her worried father by her side, holding her hand, and trying to hide the concerned look that was visible on his face.

  For Alan Jenson, seeing his daughter’s assailant falling from the window was an incredibly satisfying image. It wasn’t until the ambulance was well on its way that he even decided to mention that there was an injured man back at the flat. The paramedic asked him to describe what happened and Alan told him that his daughter’s assailant had fallen from the bedroom window, while trying to make his escape. He neglected to mention the part he had played in the fall.

  The first paramedic, who was driving, radioed to control and advised another team would need to return to the flat to check on a possible second casualty. Sarah’s condition was deemed too serious for this team to return. Alan tried to fill the second paramedic in on what had happened, but his details were sketchy, and Sarah’s memory would not allow her to remember the gruesome details; whether this was because she had repressed the memories, or whether it was a side-effect of the flunitrazepam in the wine, was anyone’s guess.

  The paramedic attending Sarah, whose name was Maisie, advised them that there was definite evidence of sexual activity, and as they were claiming it had been non-consensual, there would be a requirement to involve the police, make a statement and for various photographs to be taken. Maisie wanted to check that Sarah was prepared for what was to come. Sarah looked the paramedic straight in the eye, and said that she would fight until she saw justice served.

  The second team of paramedics arrived at the flat ten minutes later. They found Boller in the same position on the ground, where he had landed. They didn’t recognise him at first, as there was limited light, the sun having set. The police arrived at the apartment block minutes later, and based on the brief description of the evening’s events that Alan Jenson had provided to Maisie, they began to seal Sarah’s home off, in preparation for the SOCOs to arrive and process the scene.

  Boller was carefully lifted onto a stretcher and a neck immobiliser was applied, to prevent any further spinal damage occurring. When he had been discovered, he had been weeping gently. The paramedics had assumed it was because he was in considerable pain. The truth was, Boller could not feel a thing below his waist. His tears came from knowing that his plan to escape had failed, but that also he would never have the opportunity to realise his ambition of representing his country in football. Whether he would ever regain feeling in his legs was unknown at this point, but he knew a convicted rapist and murderer would never be selected to play football, regardless of their talent. Boller wept, because his career and life as he knew it, was over.

  Boller was transported to Southampton’s General Hospital, as was Sarah, but they were both taken to separate, private rooms for treatment.

  *

  D.I. Jack Vincent visited Sarah at the hospital the following morning. It was by chance that he had called round to her apartment to break the news about Claude Rêmet’s untimely passing and had found officers processing the scene. He was able to find out what had happened to Sarah overnight, and the rumour was that it was local football star Johan Boller, who was guilty of the attack.

  Vincent was carrying a bunch of flowers, as he entered Sarah’s room. She was sleeping, the doctor having prescribed something to help her rest. Vincent introduced himself to Alan Jenson and explained that he had been Erin’s boss. Sarah woke while they were talking and he explained the circumstances in which he had found Claude Rêmet.

  ‘And you’re sure he died of natural causes?’ Sarah asked, incredulous.

  ‘We are still awaiting the toxicology report, to see if there was anything in his blood. It certainly looked like he had just gotten over excited, mid-passion,’ Vincent admitted.

  ‘It just seems a bit convenient,’ Sarah remarked.

  ‘In what way?’ Vincent asked, not sure why Sarah thought it would be anything else.

  ‘Rêmet told me he had evidence linking Johan Boller with the assault and death of a little girl in Switzerland five years ago. He told me he had a photograph, taken in Switz
erland, showing Boller in a compromising position with the little girl. He told me he believed Boller had taken Natalie as well.’

  Vincent stood there with his mouth open.

  ‘You told me he hadn’t named his suspect!’ Vincent spat out.

  ‘That was before he raped and tried to kill me!’ Sarah said. ‘It was him, Detective Inspector. It was all him.’

  ‘Look, Sarah,’ Vincent began, ‘I appreciate you’ve been through a traumatic experience, but there is no evidence to link Mr Boller to the other crimes. I mean, did he confess something to you that you’re not telling me?’

  ‘No…I don’t know…I can’t remember what happened…not properly.’

  ‘We found Ryan Moss, by the way,’ continued Vincent.

  ‘Moss?’ spluttered Sarah’s father.

  ‘It’s okay, dad,’ said Sarah. ‘Ryan didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Natalie. He came and saw me and we talked. I think he was looking for some kind of forgiveness for what happened all those years ago; not that I’m sure I can. He said he was planning to go away somewhere but he didn’t say the location. Where did you find him?’

  Vincent paused before saying, ‘He jumped in front of a passenger train near Southampton yesterday afternoon. At least that’s what we’ve established from the remains we discovered. Nasty business, if you ask me.’

  Sarah’s head moved to the side as she tried to hide her tears.

  ‘My daughter needs to rest, Detective Inspector,’ said her father, stroking her head reassuringly.

  ‘I will personally look into Mr Boller’s whereabouts on the dates in question,’ said Vincent after a while. ‘But without anything concrete to go on, my hands are somewhat tied.’

  ‘Well, you should at least be able to charge him with my daughter’s assault,’ said Alan Jenson, glaring at Vincent.

  ‘I need to speak to you about that as well,’ replied Vincent reluctantly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Sarah, uncertain about Vincent’s tone of voice.

  ‘Mr Boller is claiming that you invited him around for dinner last night, seduced him into having sex with you and then he was chased from the property when your over-bearing father came in and saw you at it.’

  Alan Jenson stood, as if he was going to charge at Vincent. Vincent took two steps backward.

  ‘Look,’ Vincent added, ‘they’re his words, not mine. He has even asked to press charges against you Mr Jenson for pushing him from the window frame.’

  ‘That’s nonsense!’ bellowed Alan.

  ‘Mr Boller has been with his solicitor since he arrived at the hospital last night,’ Vincent continued. ‘He is some fancy-dan from London, by all accounts, although I haven’t met him yet.’

  ‘My flat,’ said Sarah suddenly sitting up in bed as a thought struck her.

  ‘What about it?’ asked Vincent, jumping slightly at Sarah’s sudden movement.

  ‘There should be a recording of what happened last night. I had some surveillance equipment installed before he came over. Listen to the recording and then make your own mind up about what happened,’ said Sarah triumphantly.

  *

  Vincent made his way from the hospital directly to Sarah’s flat. He had been due to call in on Boller before he left the hospital, but Sarah’s claim about a recording of what had happened, had intrigued him. The SOCOs had finished dusting for prints and taking photographs of the flat and most of the crime scene tape had been removed. A single, uniformed officer was standing outside of Sarah’s apartment building when he arrived. Vincent flashed his warrant card and was allowed entry. Sarah had told him that the equipment had been installed by a former colleague of Erin’s, a chap by the name of Dudley. Vincent had recognised the man’s voice as soon as he phoned the electrical shop, where the equipment had been purchased. Dudley had been happy to talk Vincent through what he had installed and where the central recording deck could be located.

  Vincent moved through the apartment and headed for the kitchen. In the cupboard, immediately below the sink, he located a small box the size of a matchbox. He disconnected the box from the cable it was attached to and placed it in his pocket. He left the apartment and made his way back to the police station. Once he was in his office and sitting comfortably, he plugged the box into his computer via a USB cable and then proceeded to listen to the recording.

  By the end of the recording, he was reaching for the bottle of scotch that he had hidden in his desk drawer. He had only replaced the bottle last night, but he felt he needed something, after what he had heard on the recording. Hearing Boller confess to the murders of Natalie, Rêmet, and ultimately Erin made him see red. Boller’s claim that the sex had been consensual was clearly a lie, designed to keep him out of prison. Vincent vowed that he would do everything in his power to take Boller down.

  The issue he had was that the tape recording would probably be deemed inadmissible in court, and as such it wasn’t evidence that they could use against the footballer. That said, it gave Vincent all the evidence he personally needed to launch a full investigation into Johan Boller’s movements in the last week. There would be evidence in Boller’s house and car of his actions, and so long as he could acquire a search warrant to undertake these checks, he knew he would be able to build a case.

  Vincent knocked back the remains of his glass of whisky and placed the tumbler on his desk. He then reached into his pocket and withdrew a packet of chewing gum, popping two pieces into his mouth. He had an important journey to make and he didn’t want to leave the tell-tale smell of booze on his breath when he got there. He opened the door to his office, and switched the light off as he left. He had a broad smile on his face, and it was the first time since he had contemplated taking his own life on Wednesday night, that he felt glad to be alive. His life had a new purpose: he was going to bring Johan Boller to justice for all the crimes he had committed. He even began to whistle, as he headed into the underground car park, towards his squad car. His next stop was Southampton’s General Hospital. He was going to visit Johan Boller and laugh in his face when he lied about the previous week’s events.

  Vincent glanced upwards and offered a silent prayer of thanks to the pair of angels who were clearly watching over; urging him to fight on.

  EPILOGUE

  Jack Vincent was sitting outside Court Room Two at Winchester Crown Court. The jury had withdrawn two hours ago, to consider the facts they had been presented with. He understood why Sarah Jenson didn’t want to be here today. The defendant’s barrister had grilled her hard when she had been called to the stand to present her version of events, following the abduction of Natalie Barrett, seven months ago. He could appreciate why she had no desire to relive what had happened, through each side’s closing statements. He had promised to phone her the moment the verdict was released.

  It had taken some time to collate all the facts of the case that the jury had been provided with. As suspected, the recording of Sarah’s rape was not permitted to be played in court, as it had been recorded without the permission of the defendant. It had served the unique purpose of giving Vincent the impetus to find as much evidence against Boller as he could. Vincent had developed the habit of listening to the recording of Boller’s confession each morning, so that he never lost sight of the end goal.

  The forensics team had had a field day examining the inside of Boller’s house. They had found a significant volume of congealed blood under the laminate flooring of Boller’s kitchen, and the blood had proved a match to that of Natalie Barrett. This, added to the fibres of the girl’s skin found in his boot, and even Boller’s barrister had told him to cop a plea to kidnap and accidental death.

  Proving his involvement in the abduction and murder of Nichole Brunel had not been so easy. Although that murder had happened on foreign soil, Vincent had argued to hear the case in the U.K. due its similarities to the Barrett case. Despite Sarah’s recollections of what Rêmet had told her, they could not discover any evidence to prove that Bolle
r had been in the shed where the assault had occurred, or that he had even been in the vicinity of the camp site. It was another reason why Sarah was not in court today.

  The facts that the jury were currently reviewing related to the sexual assault. Boller’s discovery outside of the flat, along with Alan Jenson’s eye witness testimony, should have been enough to see him convicted and further incarceration being added to his sentence. Boller’s barrister was very experienced at getting his clients out of assault charges and was very popular amongst Premiership footballers. Vincent couldn’t help but worry that the magician would work his tricks again today.

  Since her release from hospital, Vincent had spent a significant amount of time working closely with Sarah Jenson on each of the aspects of the Natalie Barrett case. Where he had originally laughed at some of her outlandish theories, he had grown to respect her insight into the case.

  Officer Kyle Davies had continued to look into the whereabouts of Neil Barrett on the day Natalie had gone missing. He had learned that Barrett had been doing some extra jobs for his boss, when business had been quiet: namely delivering small packages to acquaintances, under the guise of repairing vehicles by the road-side. In many ways, it had been the perfect cover: two apparent strangers, meeting in the middle of nowhere, sharing a conversation nobody else would hear or see.

  After Boller’s arrest and confession, when Barrett had returned to work, Davies had followed him on several call-outs, and had observed the exchanges from a distance. Vincent could not believe his luck; not only had he captured the man responsible for abducting Natalie Barrett, he had also uncovered an international drugs ring, operating in Southampton. Overnight, he became the local media’s golden boy, and D.C.I. Young had been quoted in several interviews, praising Vincent’s methods of deduction. He had even been described as the ‘new Holmes’ by one magazine, a quote he had cut out and stuck up on the fridge in his flat.