Snatched

by Gillian Jackson

  SNATCHED

  Gillian Jackson

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  2017

  DAY 1

  Chapter 1

  DAY 2

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  DAY 3

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  DAY 4

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  DAY 5

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  DAY 6

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  DAY 7

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  A NOTE TO THE READER

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Prologue

  February 3rd, 1988

  It was a bitterly cold Friday, with a bright starlit night sky promising frost for the following morning. It was a late-night telephone call from a concerned neighbour that instigated the chain of events which threw novice social worker, Barbara Thompson, in at the deep end. After three weeks on the job, and barely any time out of the office, the newbie relished the thought of being on call with her more experienced colleague, Ann.

  ‘A possible child left at home alone,’ Ann explained, frowning, as they climbed into the car. ‘The police will meet us at the scene.’

  By eleven-thirty pm the two women arrived at the address they’d been called to, to be greeted by an irate neighbour who was throwing out accusations like confetti. It was a council housing estate, one with which the social team were all too familiar; they had many clients who’d lived here, including some very sad cases. The house in question that night was in complete darkness, but the neighbour insisted there were children inside.

  ‘That cow doesn’t deserve to have kids. She leaves them to fend for themselves while she’s off with her latest fella!’

  Ann was already peering through the letterbox, calling out to anyone who might be inside. For a few moments there was silence, broken only by the insistent neighbour, telling them what they should be doing. Her raucous voice and colourful language did nothing to ease the situation and if the children were inside, they would probably be more afraid of the neighbour than of being alone. A faint noise, a sob from within, confirmed the presence of at least one child. Ann spoke softly through the letterbox, waving to Barbara to keep the neighbour away.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart, my name’s Ann, are you all right in there?’ Silence, then another muffled sob. ‘Can you come to the door and tell me your name?’

  The police arrived. Ann stood up and nodded to the two men who exited the car.

  ‘I’m pretty certain there’s a child inside and most probably alone.’

  That was all it took for the officers to make the decision to enter the property forcibly.

  Ann spoke through the letterbox once more, to warn the child of what was about to happen. ‘There are two policemen with me and they’re going to open the door so we can come in to see if you’re okay. Can you hear me, sweetheart? It might be noisy, so stand well back and we’ll be with you in a minute.’

  A minute was all it took to force the flimsy lock, allowing the police to enter the house. Ann and Barbara were close behind, aware that the police needed to perform an on-the-spot risk assessment, but anxious for the child, who must surely be frightened by their presence. The first officer flicked a light switch in the lobby but nothing happened.

  ‘No money on the meter, I should think,’ he said, producing a torch from his jacket, while his colleague went back to the car to switch on the headlights and turn the vehicle round to face the front of the house.

  A tiny lobby housed a staircase, a door to the right, presumably the living room, and a door facing, which probably led to a kitchen. As Barbara’s eyes took in the layout of the house, her nostrils were filled with a sickening smell, which nearly caused her to retch. Ann glanced at her, checking her reaction.

  ‘You’ll get used to it. Dirty nappies.’ She smiled wryly at the younger girl, who was trying hard not to be sick.

  The police officer opened the first door where the sparsely furnished, small square room was now flooded with light from the car headlights outside. In the corner, huddled like frightened animals, two small children blinked against the blinding, bright light. The officer swept the room with his eyes before giving Ann and Barbara the okay to approach the children. A girl of no more than four or five shielded a younger boy, both of them squeezing their thin little bodies as far as they could into the corner, as if the walls could offer them protection. Barbara gasped at the sight, but a look from her colleague warned her to keep her emotions in check.

  Ann slowly squatted down in front of the children, not too close.

  ‘Hello. I’m Ann and this is my friend, Barbara. What’s your name?’

  The little girl eyed her suspiciously then whispered, ‘Joanne’. The boy was silent but Ann continued smiling, asking them where their mother was. No answer, but the little boy began to cry. His sister held him even tighter, her wide blue eyes full of suspicion and fear.

  Barbara looked around at the room they were in. Even in the patchy light shed by the car outside, the space looked filthy. The walls were damp, with old, peeling paper and mildew formed patterns across the ceiling. There was no carpet, but not because the floorboards were fashionably stripped or varnished, they were simply old and uneven bare wood. An ancient, brown sofa stood against one wall, with stuffing hanging out of the arms and seat cushions which were so threadbare there was more foam showing through than fabric. A television stood in one corner, on an upturned box, its wide screen and shiny black newness totally incongruous with its surroundings. In the bay window, a side panel of glass was broken and held together with brown parcel tape, utterly useless for keeping out the cold February night.

  Ann continued to speak soothingly to the children, attempting to gain their trust. She turned to Barbara and whispered, ‘Go and get the blankets from the boot of the car.’

  Barbara hurried off to do as she was asked, grateful to be out in the fresh air, but simultaneously feeling guilty about her revulsion for the situation inside. The first policeman was by the car on his radio reporting in to the station, while his colleague searched upstairs. She retrieved the blankets and took them back into the house as the second policeman came back downstairs.

  ‘No sign of anyone else. Goodness knows how long those kids have been alone; the fridge is all but empty. Poor little sods.’ He nodded to Barbara. ‘You taking them now?’

  ‘Er, yes, we are.’ Barbara realised that she was floundering. This situation had completely thrown her. The smell was making her feel sick and she longed for a hot shower and her bed, although it was doubtful whether the images she’d seen could be erased sufficiently to allow a peaceful night’s sleep.

  Taking the blankets in to Ann, she found her colleague trying to persuade the little girl to move away from her brot
her. Ann took a blanket and draped it around Joanne’s shoulders, but the child still clung on to her brother. It looked as if they would have to lift them out as one, but when they tried, the girl bit into Barbara’s arm and scratched at her face.

  Ann managed to wrap the girl in the blanket, but was rewarded by a piercing, feral scream, which made the little boy cry even louder. The senior social worker held the girl tightly and motioned for her colleague to do the same with the boy.

  Barbara was so stunned that it took a minute for her to respond. The boy wriggled in her arms, screaming by then and almost deafening her. He wore only a thin vest and his legs were covered with excrement, the smell of which was overpowering. Ann managed to lift the girl into the back of her car and asked Barbara to get in with the little boy. The pair clung together and thankfully both lapsed into silence as they drove away.

  The children needed to be examined by a doctor and taking them to A&E was the quickest way to do it at that time of night. As they carried them into the hospital, Barbara found that swaddling the boy in the blanket and holding him tightly resulted in a calming effect. Ann did the same with the girl.

  Neither child spoke, either to the social workers or the nurses, but they seemed content to be held and both were now still. By one am a doctor had examined both children, declaring them dehydrated and malnourished. Ann accompanied a nurse to bathe both brother and sister while Barbara was sent in search of coffee. The night’s events had shocked her and it would take more than coffee to rid her mind of the sight of those neglected children.

  Later, when brother and sister were sleeping, Ann sat with Barbara and talked over their evening.

  ‘It’s not the worst case I’ve come across, but we don’t know all the details yet. It looks as if they’ve been alone for a few days, but the police will already be trying to track down the mother, or father if there’s one on the scene. The children will be kept in hospital for a few days. I’ve never come across children so malnourished before. There are also headlice to deal with; you’ll need to check your hair when you go home, which I suggest you do now. It’s been a difficult night.’

  The young social worker knew she would never forget this case. The frightened eyes of the children would stay with her and she wondered what the future held for them.

  2017

  DAY 1

  Chapter 1

  Danny loved his new school. It was exciting, with a timetable that included previously unfamiliar subjects, such as languages, chemistry and physics. That particular morning, they’d had a French lesson with Mr Armand, a real Frenchman who always made his lessons fun. He told them that his name was of German origin and meant ‘bold’ or ‘hardy’ and the whole class laughed when he struck a pose like a strongman. Danny thought he might like to take German as well as French — his dad always said that languages can get you places.

  With at least five times the number of pupils than the junior school he’d attended, Danny thought St Bede’s was awesome. He was finally growing up and even his parents seemed to treat him differently. He now owned his first mobile phone and was allowed to walk to and from school alone, which took almost half an hour. He was the proud owner of a door key, so he could go home to wait until his mother finished work, instead of going to homework club until she could pick him up. He was only on his own for an hour or so, but Danny liked the fact that he was trusted to be there alone.

  As he made his way home that Monday afternoon, Danny’s head was bowed against the driving rain, with the hood of his parka limiting his vision, so he could see nothing except the pavement in front of him. He heard a van pull up nearby but thought nothing of it until suddenly someone grabbed him from behind.

  Wriggling and kicking, he did his best to break free, but whoever was holding him was strong. As he was lifted into the van, someone else slammed the doors shut behind him and some kind of hood was pulled over his head, making it impossible to see anything at all.

  Danny’s heart thumped heavily, sounding like a drum throbbing in his ears. He shouted for them to let him go, but the effort only earned him a slap on the side of his head and a man’s voice told him to shut up. He was roughly tied up, his hands by his side so he couldn’t move them or pull the hood off his head.

  By then he was crying, he couldn’t help it. And when he suddenly felt his legs getting wet, he realised that he’d peed himself. Shaking and sobbing, Danny felt utterly helpless and ashamed of himself for letting the man get hold of him without putting up more of a fight.

  It seemed as if they drove for ages, although it was probably little more than an hour. The road became bumpy and Danny was tossed about in the back of the van, curled up, wet, cold and whimpering. With his arms bound by his side, he couldn’t stop himself from rolling about on the dirty van floor. The smell of oil and burnt rubber made him feel quite nauseous, but he knew if he was sick it would only add to his discomfort. He’d never before been so afraid and he longed for his parents and the warm comfort of their home.

  Eventually the engine stopped and the sound of the driver getting out of the cab and coming to the back doors brought another rush of fear to Danny’s mind. He pushed himself into the corner of the van, trying to make himself as small as possible, in the futile hope that whoever they were, they might simply go away and forget about him. But of course they didn’t.

  The man who’d been in the back with him dragged him towards the doors then hoisted him over his shoulders, as if he was no weight at all. Kicking his legs around was useless and earned another, even harder, slap to his head.

  For a moment Danny felt sick and dizzy and then he allowed his body to go limp; it seemed pointless to struggle with this large, strong man. Not being able to see his surroundings was frustrating as well as terrifying, but he concentrated on listening for sounds which might give him a clue as to where they were. It was quiet, with the faint sound of vehicles in the distance and the happy song of birds busily flying from tree to tree, without a care in the world. The rain was still falling and the men’s boots squelched as they walked, as if they were stepping in mud. It could have been a farm, or perhaps a cottage in the country somewhere?

  Danny was carried inside and up a flight of stairs, before being dropped heavily onto the floor, sending a sharp pain through his hip and down his right leg. As the man left the room, closing the door firmly behind him, Danny heard the sound of bolts being slid into place. For a minute he remained still, listening. There was the sound of voices downstairs, the same two men, but it wasn’t possible to make out what they were saying.

  When he was as certain as he could be that he was alone in the room, he freed his arms from their loose binding and pulled off the hood to look around. He was in a square room with one small window, bare floorboards and nothing in it except a dirty looking mattress in one corner and a bucket in another. A couple of blankets were on the end of the mattress. The walls were half covered with peeling wallpaper and the damp was running down to the rotting skirting boards. It was so very different to his bedroom at home, a place he suddenly wondered if he’d ever see again. He thought about his rucksack with his mobile phone, but realised he must have dropped it when the man grabbed him. Perhaps someone would find it and know that he’d been kidnapped?

  Danny took off his coat and then his wet trousers. Using one of the blankets he rubbed his legs dry, as the shame that he’d been unable to control himself brought a flush to his face. He hung the trousers on the door handle to dry. But it was so cold in the room and he was shivering, so he put his coat back on and, sitting on the mattress, wrapped his legs in the other blanket.

  The tears came again and, curling up on his side, he allowed himself to have a good cry. Eventually he stopped and began to think about his situation. It was pretty obvious that he’d been kidnapped and that it was up to him to do his best to escape.

  Standing up, he went to look out of the window. The dirty glass was cracked and the frame warped, but someone had nailed the
window frame to the base so that it wouldn’t open. There was also some kind of heavy mesh on the outside, making it difficult, though not impossible, to see through. The mesh was presumably to deter him from getting out through the window.

  Danny could see very little, but, screwing up his eyes, he saw a main road visible in the distance, separated from the house by a couple of fields. To the left of the road was woodland, not particularly dense, and he could see a path leading into it, which hopefully meant that someone must walk through it with some regularity. The noise of the traffic couldn’t be heard from inside.

  Adjacent to the house was a large barn, or what was left of one, with more holes than roof from what was visible and only half a door swinging precariously on a large, rusty hinge. A white van was parked near the house, too close to see little more than the roof and certainly not the number plate.

  Danny went to sit down on the dirty mattress, to think. By then he expected that his mother would be home and wondering where he was. What would she do first? Probably ring Tom to see if he was with him.

  Tom lived a couple of blocks away from them and he had been Danny’s friend since their first day at primary school. Danny was happy that they both went on to St Bede’s, but Tom wasn’t in his classes. They had made other friends but Danny still saw Tom often, particularly during school holidays.

  If only Danny had waited to walk home with Tom, this might never have happened. When his mother found he wasn’t at Tom’s what would she do? She wasn’t one to panic, but he knew she’d worry when he wasn’t back. Danny still had his watch on — it was five-thirty pm. He wondered if she’d called the police yet.

  The front door banged and Danny jumped up and ran to the window. It looked like both men were leaving; he could only just make them out through the murky glass, but there was the sound of two car doors slamming. He watched the van drive down the uneven lane they’d taken to get there, turn left and disappear out of sight.