“Who’s that man?” he asked.
“He’s trying to kill me, please let me in, I beg you,” Marney was hysterical.
The man stepped forward and with his arm around her shoulder, led her into the safety of his home.
“It’s alright now love, you’re safe. I’ll get my wife to look at you while I call the police. As the door closed behind them, the man pulled his hood over his head and walked away.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
Lydia’s parents, Rose and Gordon Stephens were distraught at the news of Marney’s disappearance, and within half an hour they arrived at her home. Her mother, red-eyed and rambling incoherently, demanded to know what the police were doing to find her. Lydia conveyed the information she had managed to retain but it did nothing to appease her mother’s angst.
“Are you sure she wasn’t with a boy-friend Lydia? You know what she’s like,” her mother asked. This thought had already entered Lydia’s mind, but she quickly rejected it. There had been many incidents in this past when she despaired at the male company her sister chose, but at this present time, she hoped and prayed that she was with some undesirable married man.
“She wouldn’t do that mum; she wouldn’t leave Heidi all night. I know what she used to be like, but that’s all in the past. I really don’t know what could have happened to her,” Lydia sat down on the sofa and began to cry.
“What if she never comes back mum; what will we do?” Lydia searched her mother’s face for a hint of assurance.
Her mother sat down close to her and squeezed her hand.
“I’m sure she’ll be found Lydia, but we can’t be certain that she isn’t with a boy-friend. I know you say she’s changed, but perhaps she needed some time on her own,” Rose attempted to pacify her eldest daughter even though she had no faith in her own words.
“I’ll go and put the kettle on,” Gordon left the room.
“I know you don’t want to hear it mum, but Marney has changed. Since Heidi was born she’s barely been out in the evening; and I’d know if she had a boy-friend she just can’t keep it a secret,” Lydia dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
“What did the police say?” Rose asked gently.
“They seem to think she’ll turn up, but they have to follow certain procedures. I’m sure they searched upstairs, they must have thought I’d done something to her.” Lydia turned around as her father entered the room carrying a tea-tray.
“Drink this love,” he handed Lydia a drink.
“Thanks dad,” she cradled the mug with both hands and took a sip.
“What are you going to do with Heidi?” her mother asked.
“I’ve given her some breakfast and she fell asleep on the sofa, I don’t think she’s very well. I put her back in her cot.”
“Perhaps it would be best if we took her with us, so you can help the police; I don’t suppose you’re opening the cafe today.” her father smiled weakly.
“No, not until Marney comes back. I’ll pack a few things for Heidi if you don’t mind,” she stood up.
“No love it’s fine, you look as if you could do with some sleep,” her mother smiled.
Fifteen minutes later, Lydia secured Heidi into her car seat and waved goodbye. Her mother repeatedly asked to be informed of any news; although she appeared relatively calm, Lydia saw her dab her eyes with a tissue as her father drove away. Back inside the house, Lydia perched nervously on the edge of the sofa soaking up her tears with a sodden tissue as the clock ticked methodically in the silence. Her mind was in turmoil as she fought to suppress the disturbing mental images of Marney lying dead in a ditch. The harder she tried to quell the horrors, the more vivid they appeared. Unable to bear it any longer, she leapt to her feet and began to pace up and down the room her heart pounding heavily in her chest. Still in a state of heightened anxiety, she jumped violently at the sound of the land-line ringing in the hallway.
Hoping it would be good news; she dashed into the hall and snatched the phone from its cradle.
“Hello,” she replied in a breathless voice.
“Jake, what do you want?” she lowered herself into a chair and sighed.
“I need to speak to you,” he began
“Talk away Jake.”
“Not on the phone,” he replied simply.
“Is there something wrong, I don’t have room in my life for any more emotional upset Jake? Marney’s gone missing, the police have been here, and I haven’t slept.”
“What do you mean, missing?” his tone altered to genuine concern.
“She went out with friends last night and hasn’t come back. I’m out of my mind with worry Jake.”
“She’ll be back, you know what she’s like,” he made light of the situation.
“No, Jake, she’s not like that anymore; I’m sick of repeating myself.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m sure she’ll turn up.”
“She isn’t answering her phone and I’ve heard nothing from the police.”
“You sound as though you need someone to talk to; can we met up for a coffee?” he asked hopefully.
“I don’t know Jake, it’s been a long time and seeing you just drags up the past and all the pain that goes with it,” she hesitated.
“Please Lydia, just a coffee, nothing more,” he persisted.
“I need to be here in case Marney turns up, and the police will need to speak to me.”
“Then let me come to you. I care about Marney and I know how you must be feeling,” he was not going to relent.
“Alright; when do you want to call round?” she agreed.
“I’ve got a few clients to see first; is four o’clock o.k.?”
“O.K. I’ll see you later,” she replaced the phone in the cradle and walked slowly back to the lounge already beginning to regret her words.
She was emotionally weak and had no idea of what Jake wanted to talk about. Once again, her entire life was in ruins and she desperately needed to hear good news concerning her sister’s disappearance. With a heavy heart and a continuing sense of apprehension, she began to tidy the lounge before moving to the kitchen where she loaded the washing machine and then clicked the kettle on. Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in her hand, she heard the phone ring and felt her heart skip a beat in expectation. Dashing to answer it, she replied in an emotional voice.
“Hello,”
“Mrs. Nevin?” a man’s voice asked.
“Yes,” she swallowed hard.
“It’s Inspector Gordon, we’ve found your sister; she’s alive but in an extremely traumatised condition. Two of our officers are interviewing her now; we’ll keep you informed of our progress,” he paused.
“When can I see her,” Lydia could barely force her words out.
“In due time Mrs. Nevin; we must follow procedure,” he explained.
“What’s happened to her inspector?” Lydia’s voice was scarcely audible.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter at the moment, but be assured we will let you know as soon as our enquiries are concluded.”
“Thank you, Inspector,” she replaced the phone and walked slowly back to the kitchen. Relief washed over her like a tidal wave as she picked up her mobile phone to give her parents the news, but even as she spoke, her mind wandered to the possible causes of her sister’s traumatised condition. Uppermost in her mind was the dreadful possibility that she could have been raped.
CHAPTER EIGHT
With her daughter’s favourite teddy bear clutched tightly in both hands, Marney perched anxiously on the stranger’s sofa. Her entire body trembled as she stared at the three police officers who had entered the room. One of the male officers, who introduced himself as Inspector D.C.I John Gordon, moved towards her and knelt by her side.
“We need to ask you some questions Miss Stephens,” he spoke quietly.
“I’m not talking to a man,” she shook her head vigorously.
“I understand,” he stood up and addressed one of his female col
leagues who stepped forward.
“Hello Miss Stephens; I’m P.C. Joan Adams,” a middle-aged officer introduced herself.
“Are you in need of medical attention before I take a statement from you?”
Marney shook her head and stared at the carpet.
“O.K. I’m going to take a seat next to you now, and my colleague P.C Watts will take notes. In your own time, can you tell me what happened on Monday 12th June,” she sat patiently waiting for Marney to begin, but it was a few minutes before she could compose herself.
“Where do you want me to start?” Marney turned to look at her.
“Tell me about your night out,” she suggested.
“It was just a meal at ‘The Old Barn’ in Becton. I was with Maddie, Jo and Livy. We’ve all been friends for a long time. We had a meal and a couple of bottles of wine. I’d promised my sister Lydia that I’d phone her when I was on the way home. I went outside to call her and there was a man sitting on a bench who approached me,” she paused.
P.C. Adams spoke.
“I shall need the full names and contact details of your friends who were with you,” she spoke softly.
“O.K.,” Marney replied.
“Are you ready to continue Marney?”
She nodded her head.
“Did you know this man?” she asked.
“No, not really; I’ve seen him before, but I don’t know anything about him,” she was confused.
“O.K. can you tell me when you saw him before Monday night?”
“He’s been following me, and he came into my sister’s cafe where I work. When I accused him of following me, he denied it. I told him to leave the cafe and not come back. I now know he’s been into our house because I found this teddy in his caravan,” she clasped it to her chest.
“So, is he the man who raped you?” she asked directly.
“Yes; he was bothering me while I was talking to my sister on my mobile. I caught my heel in a cracked paving stone and fell. The next thing I knew I was in a dirty caravan,” she repeatedly rubbed her hands together and fiddled nervously with her nails as she spoke.
“Do you know his name?” P.C. Adams continued.
Marney shook her head slowly.
“Would you be able to give a description to a police artist?”
“Yes.”
“Now I need you to describe exactly what happened before and during the attack. I’m sorry to distress you but it’s very important that you don’t conceal any details no matter how embarrassing or upsetting. If you do decide to proceed with a prosecution your evidence is required to develop a legal case. Some of my questions may seem insensitive and invasive, but they are vital to the investigation.”
Marney proceeded to relay the sequence of events and the comment he made prior to the vicious assault, but she found it difficult to look at P.C. Adams as she spoke. When she had finished the P.C, asked a question.
“Have you had sex with this man in the past?”
“No, never, I don’t know what he meant,” she raised her voice and began to cry.
“O.K. now can you tell me how you escaped, or did he let you go?” she continued.
“I hit him with my shoe; I thought I’d killed him, but he began to moan so I ran away as fast as I could,” she continued to cry, but managed to carry on.
“I didn’t know he was following me, I sat down in a field and heard a car door slam, and then he appeared at the edge of the field. I thought he was going to kill me, I was so scared,” she dabbed her eyes with a fresh tissue and looked up.
“Do you know where this caravan is?” she asked next.
“No, but it must be near here, I didn’t run far.”
“When you escaped from the caravan, did you notice any landmarks or anything specific that might help us to identify the locality?” she asked hopefully.
“I wasn’t interested in the scenery; all I could think about was getting away, I was scared for my life,” she pushed a strand of hair from her face
P.C Adams stood up and spoke to her superior officer who proceeded to make a call on his mobile.
Returning to the sofa she continued with her questioning.
“Did you see or speak to anyone else before this gentleman took you into his house?” she turned to face the home owner Mr. Eric Lucas.
“No, I didn’t speak to anyone else,” she confirmed.
P.C. Adams turned to the home owner.
“I’ll need to take a statement from you Sir to verify the appearance and mental state of the victim after the alleged assault.”
The old man nodded but didn’t speak.
“Alleged assault; don’t you believe me?” Marney was horrified.
“It’s procedure Miss Stephens,” she didn’t elaborate.
“I now need to know if you wish to proceed with a prosecution?” she continued.
“Of course, he’s not going to get away with this,” for the first time during the interview Marney experienced an intense wave of anger wash over her. Suddenly she looked up, her eyes wide with fear.
“Will I have to go to court?” she asked re-calling how harrowing an experience it had been for Lydia.
“It’s highly probable,” P.C. Adams informed her.
“Do you have a current boyfriend Miss Stephens?” she asked without pausing.
“Not at the moment, I have a baby and I don’t get much free time,” Marney replied hesitantly.
“What about the father of your child?” she continued.
“He’s dead,” she replied bluntly.
“So, would it be correct or incorrect to say you are not sexually active at the present time?”
“Why are you asking me these questions?” Marney shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“This is what it will be like in court; the defence will ask all kinds of intrusive and personal questions to discredit you, or prove you indulged in consensual sex.”
Marney studied the Police woman’s face; her expression had changed from one of compassion to a harsh cold stare.
“But I’m the one who’s been raped; why are these sort of questions allowed to be asked?” she was becoming more distressed.
“Because the accused man has the right to be represented in court by a defence lawyer,” P.C Adams leaned forward and smiled as she resumed a gentler expression.
“I don’t know if I will be able cope with it,” Marney bit her top lip and sighed.
“You don’t have to proceed with a prosecution, the decision is yours, but I have to know now to enable us to collect forensic evidence,” she explained and added. “This is the only chance we have to retrieve it.”
“How do you do that?” Marney studied her face.
“First, you’ll need to make a Victim Personal Statement at the police station. I’ll be in the room with you together with a senior officer. You’ll sign the statement after you’re satisfied with the content and then we’ll issue a crime number. You can phone the station at any time to find out how the case is proceeding. You’ll also need to provide physical evidence,” she paused momentarily.
“You’ll also have to undergo what we call a rape examination at a local hospital. Where possible, the examination will be carried out by a lady doctor. You’ll be asked to undress and wear a gown and you’ll be issued with new clothes after the examination. Any injuries you’ve received will be noted and photographed together with any torn clothes. You’ll then be examined; this involves swabs and slides being taken and any semen present collected. There may also be pubic hair belonging to the assailant. Fingernail scrapping will also be taken for samples of blood tissue. Routinely, victims are tested through blood collection for H.I.V, pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases. When the procedure is complete, you’ll be allowed to shower and change. All the evidence collected at the time of the examination is boxed at the hospital and given to the police for laboratory examination.”
Marney listened intently as the humiliating process was explained and she was unc
ertain as to whether she could endure it.
“I don’t know what to do,” she finally spoke.
“Only you can make that decision, but once you’ve taken a shower, the evidence will be destroyed. The case will be so much stronger with forensic evidence to support it.”
After a few minutes of deliberation, Marney turned to face the P.C.
“I’ll do it,” she said softly.
After an interview with the home- owner, Marney was taken to the police station where she made her statement with the assistance of P.C. Adams. The experience was not as daunting as she had expected, and afterwards she felt an element of relief from the disclosure of the squalid details. She decided that the details of her candid confession would never be relayed to another person, not even Lydia. It would stay locked in her mind for the rest of her life.
After she signed the statement, Marney was transported to a local hospital where she was subjected to the degrading process, before being allowed to shower and change. The head wound she had received was examined, cleaned and dressed after which she was advised to spend the night in the ward, advice she chose to disregard. After being discharged, P.C. Adams who had escorted her to the hospital, informed her she would be contacted when she was required to attend the Police Station.
“Would you like me to take you home now?” she asked gently.
“I need to phone my sister first,” Marney scrolled down her list of contacts, and with trembling hands, pressed the call button.
CHAPTER NINE
Following a highly emotional reunion amidst floods of tears, Marney eventually began to re-tell the horrendous ordeal she had endured. Cradled in her sister’s arms, she wept as she re-called the details of the assault. Despite their close relationship, she was too ashamed to reveal the finer details. Marney stared straight ahead in a trance-like manner, the pain and fear evident on her face; she was lost in a dark world that no one could enter, and she couldn’t leave. The sparkle in her eye and vitality for life had disappeared, to be replaced by deep sadness and intense fear and it was heart-breaking to witness.
The Truth: sequel to I Will Find You Page 6
