· Ambient conditions where found: Egmont Bight is a shallow bay, inaccessible to boats other than keelless vessels such as ribs/dinghies (lowest recorded depth = 0.5 m; variation between low and high water = 1.00-2.00 m). Kimmeridge Ledges to the west of Egmont Bight make sailing close to the cliffs hazardous, and sailors steer well clear of the shoreline (particularly at night, when that part of the coast is unlit). Due to a back eddy, a continuous SSE stream runs from Chapman's Pool toward St. Alban's Head, which suggests victim was inside the shelter of Egmont Point before she died and was stranded on the shoreline as the tide receded. Had she drowned farther out, her body would have been swept around the Head. SW winds and currents mean she must have entered the water WSW of Egmont Bight and was towed along the coast in an easterly direction as she swam toward the shore. In view of the above factors,* we estimate the victim entered the sea a minimum of 0.5 miles WSW of where the body was found.
*These estimates are calculated on what an average swimmer could achieve in the conditions.
These conclusions are predicated on the rape taking place on board a boat, most probably on deck.
Difficult at this stage to say to what extent the benzodiazepine would have affected her ability to operate. Further tests required.
· Conclusions: The woman was raped and subjected to a manual strangulation attempt before being left to drown in the open sea. She may also have had her fingers broken prior to immersion with the possible aim of hampering her efforts to swim toward the shore. She was certainly alive when she entered the water, so the failure to report her fall overboard suggests her killer expected her to die. The removal of distinguishing features (wedding ring, clothing) suggests a premeditated intent to hinder an investigation should the body surface or be washed ashore.
***NB: In view of the fact that she came so close to saving herself, it is possible that she made the decision to jump while the boat was still in sight of land. However, both the failure to report her "missing overboard" and the evidence of premeditation leaves little room for doubt that her death was intended.
***Rohypnol (manufactured by Roche) Much concern is being expressed about this drug. A soluble, intermediate-acting hypnotic compound-known on the street as the "date-rape drug," or more colloquially as a "roofie." It has already been cited in several rape cases, two being "gang-rape" cases. Very effective in the treatment of severe and disabling insomnia, it can induce sleep at unusual times. Used inappropriately-easily dissolved in alcohol-it can render a woman unconscious without her knowledge, thus making her vulnerable to sexual attack. Women report intermittent bouts of lucidity, coupled with an absolute inability to defend themselves. Its effects on rape victims have been well documented in the U.S., where the drug is now banned: temporary or permanent memory loss; inability to understand that a rape has taken place; feelings of "spaced-out" disconnection from the event; subsequent and deep psychological trauma because of the ease with which the victim was violated against her will (often by more than one rapist). There are enormous difficulties in bringing prosecutions because it is impossible to detect Rohypnol in the bloodstream after seventy-two hours, and few victims regain their memories quickly enough to present themselves at police stations in time to produce positive semen swabs or benzodiazepine traces in the blood.
***NB: The U.K. police lag well behind their U.S. counterparts in both understanding and prosecution of these types of cases.
*7*
Salterns Marina lay at the end of a small cul-de-sac off the Bournemouth-to-Poole coastal road, some two hundred yards from where the Greens had rescued the blond toddler. Its approach from the sea in a pleasure craft was through the Swash Channel and then via the North Channel, which allowed a passage between the shore and the numerous moored boats that flew like streamers from the buoys in the center of the bay. It was a popular stopping-off place for foreign visitors or sailors setting out to cruise the south coast of England, and was often crowded in the summer months.
An inquiry at the marina office about traffic in and out over the previous two days, 9-10 August, produced the information that Crazy Daze had moored there for approximately eighteen hours on the Sunday. The boat had come in during the night and taken a vacant berth on "A" pontoon, and the nightwatchman had recorded the arrival at 2:15 a.m. Subsequently, when the office opened at 8:00 a.m., a man calling himself Steven Harding had paid for a twenty-four-hour stay, saying he was going for a hike but planned to be back by late afternoon. The harbormaster remembered him. "Good-looking chap. Dark hair."
"That's the one. How did he seem? Calm? Excited?"
"He was fine. I warned him we'd need the berth again by the evening and he said, no problem, because he'd be heading back to Lymington by late afternoon. As far as I recall he said he had an appointment in London on Monday-this morning in other words-and was planning to catch the last train up."
"Did he have a child with him?"
"No."
"How did he pay?"
"Credit card."
"Did he have a wallet?"
"No. He had the card tucked into a pocket inside his shorts. Said it was all you needed these days to go traveling."
"Was he carrying anything?"
"Not when he came into the office."
No one had made a note of Crazy Daze's departure, but the berth was empty again by 7:00 p.m. on Sunday evening, when a yacht out of Portsmouth had been logged in. On this initial inquiry, there were no reports of an unaccompanied toddler leaving the marina or of a man taking a toddler away with him. However, several people pointed out that marinas were busy places-even at eight o'clock in the morning-and anyone could take anything off a boat if it was wrapped in something unexceptional like a sleeping bag and placed in a marina trolley to transport it away from the pontoons.
Within two hours of the Lymington police being asked to check William Sumner's cottage in Rope Walk, another request came through from Winfrith to locate a boat by the name of Crazy Daze, which was moored somewhere in the tiny Hampshire port's complex of marinas, river moorings, and commercial fishing quarter. It took a single telephone call to the Lymington harbormaster to establish its exact whereabouts.
"Sure I know Steve. He moors up to a buoy in the dogleg, about five hundred yards beyond the yacht club. Thirty-foot sloop with a wooden deck and claret-colored sails. Nice boat. Nice lad."
"Is he on board?"
"Can't say. I don't even know if his boat's in. Is it important?"
"Could be."
"Try phoning the yacht club. They can pick him out with binoculars if he's there. Failing that, come back to me, and I'll send one of my lads up to check."
William Sumner was reunited with his daughter in the Poole police station at half past six that evening after a tiring two-hundred-and-fifty-mile drive from Liverpool, but if anyone expected the little girl to run to him with joyful smiles of recognition, they were to be disappointed. She chose to sit at a distance, playing with some toys on the floor, while making a cautious appraisal of the exhausted man who had slumped on a chair and buried his head in his hands. He apologized to WPC Griffiths. "I'm afraid she's always like this," he said. "Kate's the only one she responds to." He rubbed his red eyes. "Have you found her yet?"