Snatched

by Stephen Edger

  ‘Take a seat, please, Miss Jenson,’ the officer instructed, and Sarah dropped down to the sofa, without question. ‘There is no easy way to say this, Miss Jenson, so I will just tell it how it is. Erin Cooke has been involved in a car accident.’

  ‘Oh, God, no,’ Sarah gasped. ‘Is she okay?’

  The officer took a deep breath and then said, ‘It was quite a serious accident. Miss Cooke’s car was found in a ditch near Dibden. It appears that the car left the road at some speed and rolled several times. Miss Cooke was extracted from the car and has been taken to the General Hospital. She is in a critical condition.’

  ‘Oh, God, no!’ screamed Sarah throwing her hands up to her face as tears formed deep pools in her eyes and began to trickle down her cheeks.

  ‘Miss Jenson?’ asked the officer as Sarah began to sob uncontrollably. ‘Miss Jenson, please? I know this has come as a shock but it is vital that we get you to the hospital. Immediately.’

  Sarah didn’t hear him as she rocked backwards and forwards on the sofa. This couldn’t be real, could it? Was this just Erin’s way of playing a horrible practical joke? Sarah wished that Erin would jump out from wherever she was hiding and shout, ‘Fooled you!’ But she didn’t. Sarah continued to rock on the sofa until one of the police officers stood up and moved across to her and put his large arms around her. She didn’t even know his name but right now she welcomed the embrace. The officer tried to soothe her with gentle words and gradually the rocking stopped.

  ‘Listen to me, Miss Jenson,’ the officer said, ensuring he had made eye contact and had her full attention. ‘I want you to pack any items you need, change of clothes, that kind of thing. Go now and pack a bag. When you’re ready, we’ll drive you straight to the hospital.’

  Sarah nodded her understanding and ran to the bedroom, where she grabbed a t-shirt, pants, socks and trainers. She was still wearing the dress she had put on for the evening meal and as she pulled it over her head, sequins flew all over the carpet. She didn’t care; she just wanted to get to the hospital, to check on Erin’s condition. She threw on a pair of jeggings, the t-shirt, socks and trainers and rushed back to the living room.

  ‘All ready?’ asked the officer gently.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied and the three headed for the door.

  The officer who had done all the talking, whose name was Caldicott, put the car’s flashing lights and siren on and drove through every red light. D.I. Jack Vincent had given him specific instructions to get Sarah Jenson to the hospital as quickly as possible to say her goodbyes to the one she loved.

  WEDNESDAY

  15

  Sarah sat on a plastic chair, in a corner of the room, in utter silence. To anyone watching, she looked like she was asleep with her eyes open. Her body was bolt upright and was unmoving; it was as if she was playing musical statues and nobody had told her that the game was over and that she could now move again. Sarah had been in this pose for more than two hours now, staring at the body stretched out on the hospital bed before her.

  The surgeon, a stern-looking woman who went by the name Dr Habib, had advised Sarah that Erin had sustained serious head trauma during the accident and this had caused intra-cranial haemorrhaging and was the likely cause of the coma. Apparently, a ‘999’ call had been placed anonymously shortly before nine p.m., advising that a car had been spotted careering off a road, near Dibden, just outside of Southampton. By the time Paramedics had arrived on the scene, there was no sign of who might have placed the call, or even what might have caused the accident. From what she had overheard Vincent and Caldicott discussing, there had been no skid marks on either side of the road, which suggested that another vehicle had not been involved, leaving one conclusion: Erin had simply lost control of the car. But that was so unlike Erin; she was a very safe driver.

  So many questions were racing through Sarah’s head that she was struggling to keep up with her own thought processes, hence why her body was as still as stone. What was Erin doing near Dibden? Why had she lost control of the car? Who had placed the ‘999’ call and then scarpered? If the car had careered off the road, why were there no skid marks? Had she simply not braked? But the biggest question that kept bursting through all the others was: why? Why Erin? Why now?

  It was so unfair. Sarah was finally at a point in her life when she felt genuinely happy. She was madly in love with Erin, even ready to propose to her, to make that promise to spend the rest of her life with her. Work was going well for both of them and although they didn’t own their apartment, they were making enough money to live quite comfortably in a rented property in a nice area of Southampton. Only hours earlier, she had been planning how she would propose to Erin and now her whole world had been turned upside down. Still the question persevered: why?

  Erin had been placed in an individual room, away from other patients, to ensure she received the right level of care. Vincent would never tell Sarah, but he had pulled a few strings to get the room for Erin. Erin’s body had not moved since she had been wheeled back in, following an M.R.I. scan, just before midnight. It was difficult to make out who was buried beneath the wires, tubes and other various apparatus attached to the lifeless body. In fact, Sarah would have questioned if it was even Erin, had she not been told by Vincent. Amongst Erin’s injuries, she had dislocated her right shoulder, fractured her pelvis and broken her ankle. Were these injuries even consistent with a car accident? Sarah didn’t know but it was another question rattling around her head. So many questions, it was difficult to keep track of them.

  Dr Habib had said the results of the M.R.I. would be ready by about four a.m. That deadline had passed over an hour ago, and yet Sarah was still none the wiser about the condition of her soul-mate. There was a steady bleeping noise and then the intermittence of what sounded like a small vacuum cleaner. Sarah had no idea what all the medical apparatus was, or what it was doing, but so long as it was keeping Erin alive, she didn’t care.

  A knock at the room’s only door disturbed Sarah’s questions. In walked Dr Habib in bright blue scrubs, a blue surgical cap and a white, cotton mask over her mouth and nose. She removed the mask as she approached Sarah’s seat. Dr Habib found a vacant chair nearby and scraped it across the floor until it was positioned in front of Sarah and then the surgeon sat down. She took Sarah’s hands in her own and forced Sarah to make eye contact. Dr Habib needed Sarah’s full attention for what she was about to say, and could not afford for the young lady not to be listening.

  ‘Miss Jenson?’ the surgeon began. ‘Miss Jenson? I need you to listen to me as I have an update for you and some questions. Is that okay?’

  Sarah nodded, petrified about what might follow. She had a hundred and one questions to ask the doctor but knew that her chance would come, eventually.

  ‘Right,’ said Dr Habib, taking a deep breath before she continued. ‘Erin has undergone an M.R.I scan, which allows us to take a picture of what is going on inside her head. Erin sustained several blows to the head, most likely the result of bashing the frame of the car, as it rolled. These blows have caused bleeding inside her head that we have been trying to stem with drugs as a limiting measure. So severe were the blows that Erin’s brain has swelled in size, making it impossible for us to safely operate and have a proper look at what has happened. We had been hoping that the swelling would decrease with the drugs, but the M.R.I. suggests they are not working.’

  Sarah tried to process everything Dr Habib was telling her, but she was struggling. So far all she had picked up on was that Erin was in a pretty serious condition.

  ‘Miss Jenson?’ said Dr Habib to ensure she still had Sarah’s attention. ‘Erin is not currently breathing by herself. That machine that looks like an accordion in a fish bowl is breathing for Erin. I have consulted with my colleagues and we do not believe that Erin’s body is capable of breathing of its own volition. Do you understand what I am saying?’

  Sarah continued to stare blankly back at Dr Habib, not quite realising that she was b
eing asked a question.

  ‘What? Sorry?’ Sarah said when she noticed that the doctor was waiting for a response.

  ‘What I said was that Erin is not currently able to breathe without the aid of that machine. The damage to her brain is so substantial that she may never regain consciousness. Do you understand what I am telling you?’

  Sarah remained staring blankly, sub-consciously she knew exactly what the doctor was telling her, but the barrier her own consciousness had created was blocking the thought from getting through.

  ‘You’re saying she is going to need a lot of care?’

  ‘Miss Jenson, I need you to understand this and I don’t wish to sound blunt but the truth is: Erin is unlikely to ever wake up and recover from this accident. I am telling you that we could leave her on the ventilator for the next decade and she probably would not wake up.’

  The conscious barrier collapsed and Sarah burst into tears.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Miss Jenson but we believe the kindest thing to do would be to turn the ventilator off.’

  ‘What?’ Sarah screamed. ‘No! No way!’

  Sarah pulled her hands away from Dr Habib, and moved to look out of the small window next to where she had been sitting. She moved her hands up to her face to prevent the world from seeing the waterfall of tears flowing down her cheeks.

  Dr Habib watched Sarah for a moment to sense if she was likely to regain her composure, but after a minute decided it would be best to return later. The doctor walked back towards the door. She found the suited police officer who had been sitting outside the room the whole time and provided him with an update of the situation. He looked distraught with what she told him, but confirmed that he would go and talk to Sarah to try and make her understand.

  Sarah turned, as she heard Jack Vincent open the door and cough to get her attention. He didn’t know what to say. Seeing the total devastation in Sarah’s eyes in stark contrast to the vulnerability of Cookie, unconscious in the bed; it was all he could do to stop himself from crying as well. He had to remain strong, his grieving could follow later.

  ‘Miss Jenson,’ he began, trying to stop his voice from showing emotion. ‘I am so sorry…’ but before he could finish what he had been rehearsing to say, Sarah moved straight across the room and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, put her cheek onto his shoulder and wept. It was the most human contact he had experienced in quite a while, and he felt uncomfortable as he put his arms around her and held her still. They remained, locked in this embrace until Sarah’s crying subsided and she pulled away from Vincent, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to breakdown in front of a virtual stranger.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Vincent suggested and Sarah returned to the chair in the corner of the room. Vincent then sat in the chair that had earlier been occupied by Dr Habib. Vincent was about to start talking when Sarah said, ‘What happened?’

  Vincent thought about how best to answer the question and then chose to be as honest as he could, ‘The details are still sketchy at the moment. We know the car left the road near Dibden at some considerable speed. It rolled several times as it fell into a ditch by the side of the road. Cookie was brought in by paramedics and once her warrant card had been located, I was called in.’

  ‘I don’t understand what she was doing in Dibden,’ Sarah countered. ‘She was supposed to be home for dinner at seven. Why did you send her there?’

  The tone in Sarah’s voice was accusatory and immediately put Vincent on the defensive.

  ‘I told her to go home and see you,’ he began. ‘She said she had something she wished to check out, but that she would then be heading home. I’ve no idea what she was doing anywhere near there!’

  ‘She was a safe driver. I don’t see why she would have lost control of the car,’ challenged Sarah, raising her voice.

  ‘I may have an answer for that,’ Vincent reluctantly replied.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It is standard practice for doctors to take blood samples from victims of car accidents that are brought in, in an unconscious state. Dr Habib has just provided me the results of the toxicology report have been released.’

  ‘What are you going on about?’ asked Sarah not realising what Vincent was building up to.

  ‘Cookie, sorry, Erin, was twice above the acceptable blood-alcohol level when she was brought in. She was drunk,’ he said, shuddering, disappointed to be saying the words.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. She is a recovering alcoholic! She hasn’t touched a drink in nearly two years! There is no way she was drunk!’ Sarah was shouting now, unable to believe that this man was claiming Erin had crashed because she was drunk.

  ‘I didn’t want to believe it at first either,’ he countered, ‘but, when I last spoke to her, her clothes did reek of booze and cigarettes. She had spent the afternoon in a pub, interviewing a suspect. As you said, she is a recovering alcoholic; can you really be sure she would have avoided temptation?’

  ‘I know, Erin,’ Sarah shot back. ‘Her alcoholism stemmed from a troubled childhood. She is in a happy place in her life so I know she would not have slipped back into old ways. I know it!’

  ‘I can show you the results of the blood test,’ Vincent argued. ‘Believe me, she is one of my best officers, I don’t want her name unfairly slurred, but the facts are the facts. She was drunk!’

  Vincent suddenly became aware of how loud he was speaking and tried to switch to a calmer tone.

  ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I won’t allow this to affect her memorial. I will make sure the toxicology does not appear in the write up. We will simply say that she lost control and that will be the end of it.’ He smiled as warmly and as empathetically as he could but Sarah didn’t buy it.

  ‘What do you mean by ‘her memorial’? She is still alive for God’s sake!’

  ‘I thought Dr Habib had spoken to you,’ said Vincent glancing towards the door, outside of which the surgeon had earlier told him that she had filled Sarah in on the seriousness of Erin’s condition.

  ‘She suggested turning off the ventilator but I told her I didn’t want to,’ shouted Sarah, unable to control the anger building in the pit of her stomach: Not only was the woman she loved in a coma, but now they were claiming it was because she was drunk and that she should be allowed to die. It was like a nightmare.

  ‘The decision is not yours to take, Miss Jenson,’ replied Vincent pointedly. ‘The surgeon was not asking for your permission to turn the life-support off, she was giving you the courtesy of choosing the time of when it will be switched off. I thought you understood this?’

  Sarah’s heart broke as she turned to stare at the lifeless body of Erin again. Even though she had heard what the doctor had said, she believed it was merely an over-reaction. Only now, did Sarah realise that she would never get to hear Erin’s voice again, would never get to hold her again, that they would never grow old together. Sarah dropped to her knees and wept again.

  *

  At ten thirty, Dr Habib returned to the room where Sarah continued to watch Erin, praying that she would wake up and make everything better, in that way she just had about her. But despite the prayers, she continued to lay still, her chest rising and deflating as the ventilator beeped next to her.

  Sarah had an impossible decision to make. In spite of what Vincent had told her, it wasn’t actually within Dr Habib’s power to switch the ventilation machine off, not without next of kin consent, or a court order. The doctor had already made it abundantly clear an hour ago that she would pursue such an order if Sarah did not make the decision first.

  Sarah had requested a second opinion and this had led to her meeting Dr Habib’s senior registrar, a short, uptight man by the name of Mr Ramsay. He had seemed almost angry that his presence had been demanded for such an insignificant meeting, insignificant to him probably, because it had cut his game of golf short. Sarah had thought he was a clear example of someone suffering with small-man syndrome, using his power to make up for his lack of presen
ce. He had told Sarah, in no uncertain terms, that all the tests indicated very minimal brain activity and, whilst they could not predict the future, he could say the prognosis of survival and recovery were very slim.

  Dr Habib and Mr Ramsay had left her an hour ago, saying they would give her time to reach a decision but it looked like that time had now run out.

  ‘Miss Jenson?’ Dr Habib asked carefully, unsure about how Sarah might react to her presence. ‘I need to know if you’ve reached a decision.’

  Sarah looked up from the chair she was sitting in, which was still in the corner of the room where it had been earlier. Sarah had done a lot of thinking, in the last hour, along with a lot of crying, and now felt physically exhausted. The truth was, she was still in shock that Erin was in this condition. Twenty-four hours earlier they had been laughing and smiling in their kitchen, and now she was being asked for consent to turn off Erin’s life support machine. It still felt like a bad dream, one Sarah wished she could wake from soon, as she was past the point where she could cry anymore.

  ‘Miss Jenson?’ asked Dr Habib again, when no response was forthcoming.

  ‘Okay,’ said Sarah with a sharp intake of breath.

  ‘Okay?’ asked Dr Habib, not quite understanding whether this was consent or just acknowledgement of her question.

  ‘Okay,’ Sarah repeated, and felt a shiver shoot through her body. ‘I will give my consent.’

  There was a calmness about Sarah’s tone that revealed an inner strength she didn’t know she was capable of.

  ‘Is there anyone you wish to call?’

  Sarah thought about the question. Erin’s parents were both deceased and she had been an only child. Sarah thought about phoning her own father, but after the coldness of his reaction to her engagement announcement, she didn’t see the point. Sarah had been an only child as well so there really was nobody that she needed to call.