22nd March
The small, white van drove into the farmyard. It had tinted windows, so it was impossible to see who was at the wheel.
I stood with Duck, Robert and Jenny, watching it arrive. Robert and Jenny each kept one hand inside their jackets, ready to draw their guns.
The driver’s door of the van opened, and Helen climbed from the vehicle.
Her hair, face, hands and clothes were covered in dried blood.
She rushed into my arms and began to sob uncontrollably.
Whatever had happened, Helen had survived, and judging by her run from the van, she was relatively unhurt. I held her and cried – gratitude for her return being, in that moment, more important than any explanation.
Robert was standing next to me, speechless – clearly as stunned as I was.
It was perhaps fifteen seconds before Helen looked towards Robert. ‘I’ve got my kidnappers in the back of the van,’ she gasped. ‘I’m terribly sorry, … I’ve killed two of them.’