Читать книгу S is for Stranger: the gripping psychological thriller you don’t want to miss! - Louise Stone - Страница 11

The room was small with no window. A starchy white emulsion covered the walls and the radiator in the corner remained firmly off. I shivered and rubbed my arms in the hope of generating some heat. DI Ward offered me a cup of tea.

‘Sugar?’ she asked as she left the room. I shook my head.

She took a long time getting the tea. It was as if I were on trial but I wasn’t sure why. Was I guilty? Any guilt I felt was because I had been cross with Amy when she had spoken to the woman. Instead of being angry, why hadn’t I asked her about it gently? Perhaps the incident with the stranger had been coincidental but how did this person know my number? Why was Paul lying? That thought made my stomach turn: Paul, the man I had wed and lived with for eight years, would put his daughter – our daughter – at risk. He must have known something, I was sure of it. But by this late stage in the day, my body and mind felt weary, the tingling by my temples had returned: the events less than three hours ago were becoming increasingly hazy. I gripped the edge of the table as if to hold onto reality, what I felt to be true, for a moment longer.

I couldn’t warm up; I pulled my coat more tightly around me and tapped the edge of the table three times, then six, then nine. My body had become a cold, lifeless shell. What was the point of living when my daughter was out there? Alone. Despite my body’s inability to move, my mind conversely ran at high speed, running through the events of the day: spotting Amy and Paul on the corner of Acton Green, the woman in the black coat, the lolly, the way Paul had held my arm, Amy’s innocent face staring up at me, candyfloss, the empty space where Amy had just been standing.

The woman. The woman, had she been there that night Bethany died? Had I seen more than I thought? I hadn’t told anyone I was there, except the doctors at the Priory, but every time I told them, they gave me more pills, talked to me more until I eventually shut down. I mean how could I have been at a murder that doesn’t exist on record?

I thought to myself: if DI Ward walks in on the twenty-first tap, it would be OK. I flicked my finger against the side. Twenty. DI Ward entered the room before my finger hit the side of the table again.

‘I thought you could do with it,’ DI Ward said as she returned and placed a mug in front of me. ‘Sugary tea.’

I took a small sip and the sweet syrup burnt the back of my throat.

‘Good for shock,’ she explained, her eyes never leaving mine as she sat down.

My gaze flitted between the detective’s mouth and the scuff-marked wall behind her; I wondered if the scuffs were the result of a high-pressure interview. I’m not sure why but I thought the suspect might be male: short-fused, not entirely dissimilar to Paul, who was undoubtedly giving them hell next door.

‘Can I ask why I’m here?’ I said numbly.

‘Because, Sophie, I need to ask you some more questions that might help us find your daughter. But you must cooperate,’ she added.

‘Of course I’ll cooperate. I’m just wondering if it’s wasting time, that’s all.’

‘Well, until we clear up the misunderstanding between you and your ex-husband, I don’t think it is wasting time.’ She stuck her tongue into the side of her cheek.

‘Is this normal treatment for a mother whose daughter has gone missing?’ I indicated the room with a nod of my head. ‘In films, this doesn’t happen.’

‘It’s normal treatment for parents who appear to have communication problems and a missing child.’

I put the mug down and allowed the uncomfortable silence to settle before speaking. Silence offered me what little control I was able to muster in this situation.

‘Detective, I know it’s hard to believe but Paul was there today. He was there with me.’ But even as I said it, my certainty dissipated like a wave on a beach.

She eyed me cagily, any expression of sympathy quickly fading. ‘Please, tell me again why he’s denying it.’

‘I don’t know.’ I ran my hand through my hair once, twice, three times. ‘We have our court case coming up.’ A tear ran down my cheek. ‘I mean no child should have to choose, I do see that. But, anyway, Paul’s pulled every card so far to make out I’m the world’s worst mother.’ I thought back to my tone, the way I had talked to her on the green, then a spinning wheel of images of me drinking to block out what everyone called delusions, drinking to stop seeing Bethany’s face when I slept. ‘Maybe I am.’

The DI softened. ‘You love Amy very much, that’s the most honest thing going on here. And I’m here to figure out what’s going on.’

I nodded. ‘Where’s Paul?’

‘Next door with my colleague, DS Franklin.’

I picked up the chipped white mug once again and took a mouthful of tea.

‘Sophie, I need you to convince me of what you’re saying. That Paul was there.’ She hesitated. ‘Tell me about your marriage.’

I let out a long sigh and placed the mug back on the table. ‘I met Paul at university, he wasn’t at the university. He was a bit older than me. He just sort of turned up one day. I fell for his intensity. He seemed a man of the world, you know what I mean? We split up after a while but we met up again in my early thirties. I fell pregnant and he asked me to marry him.’ I bit my lip. ‘I’m not sure he ever wanted it.’

‘What?’

‘Any of it. Me or having a child. Not really. Or, at least, that’s what I felt.’ I gave a weary smile. ‘But you know I can’t deny he’s always been there for Amy. Me, no. But Amy, he adores.’

‘And yet you still feel he’s lying about today?’ DI Ward sat back. ‘Paul wants to prove a point?’

I wiped my eyes. ‘I don’t know. Like I keep telling you, we were on the green in Chiswick together and when I phoned him, he said he didn’t know anything about a fairground.’ I shuddered. ‘I feel like I can’t be awake.’

‘You mentioned being present at your friend’s murder.’ She shifted under my gaze. ‘We’ve searched all our records, Sophie. There’s nothing there. I mean there isn’t a witness statement from you. I know you went to Aberystwyth University, you studied English. There is a record of a suicide. Bethany Saunders. Is that your friend?’

I nodded.

‘You were there when she committed suicide? That would be traumatic.’

‘Murdered. She was shot and I think I was there.’

‘It states here that she was never found, presumed to have committed suicide because of her “state of mind”.’ DI Ward cleared her throat. ‘Hang on, you think you were there?’

‘I’m not sure of anything any more,’ I admitted. ‘I mean Bethany existed, she was my friend, she was the only person who understood me. Ever. When I woke up one morning, I remembered Bethany had been killed.’ I hung my head. ‘Only, my housemates at the time said I came back with Paul and then, later, Paul told me I can’t have been with Bethany because I was with him at some club.’ I nibbled my lip. ‘Only I don’t remember a bar. I only remember this house, with Bethany where she died. My therapist at the time told me that sometimes, if people we love die in a traumatic way, that we make things up; we almost want to be with them when they died. It kind of comforts the person left behind.’ I felt my wet cheek. ‘Does that make sense?’

The DI shifted uncomfortably, wrote something down. ‘OK, let’s focus on Amy once more, Sophie. First of all, the one thing we all agree on, we all want Amy back safe and sound. But, I need to be sure of Amy’s whereabouts when she went missing.’ She blew out her cheeks. ‘I know you both agree that Amy hasn’t run away today but has she ever?’

‘Has she ever what?’

‘Run away.’

I looked at the floor. ‘I can’t remember.’

DI Ward leant forward in her chair and brought her face nearer mine. I could smell stale coffee on her breath. ‘You don’t remember?’

I nodded. ‘OK, once. Just over three years ago. I had just moved out or, more like, Paul dumped my stuff in the garage, filed for divorce and I had been forced to find a place of my own.’

‘So Amy ran away because it was all too stressful? Not uncommon.’

‘To look for me,’ I admitted sadly, my voice trembling slightly. ‘Please. I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘But why didn’t Amy come and live with you?’

‘I quickly,’ I started, the lump in my throat about ready to burst, ‘found out that Paul convinced Amy I had left out of choice and that I didn’t love her. He likes playing mind-games.’ The DI blinked. ‘Look, throughout this, I’ve tried to make it as easy on Amy as I can. Paul keeps using his trump card, my drinking, but I haven’t drunk a drop now for,’ I stopped briefly, ‘eighteen months, twenty-nine days and,’ I looked at my watch and laughed self-consciously, ‘around six hours. You become highly aware of time when you’re … Well, you know.’ I looked up at the detective. ‘Cafcass were due to interview her next week to ask her where she wants to live. She told me she was going to tell them that she wants to live with me. And now she’s gone, Detective.’ I looked at the DI, my eyes blurred. ‘I have to find my child. I love her so much. She’s meant to be with me.’

The detective nodded, stuck out her lower lip. ‘Yes, so you attend AA?’

‘I’m dry, but I keep going to prove how hard I’m trying, for the courts. I thought about readmitting myself to the Priory but I’m done with therapy.’

The detective arched an eyebrow. ‘Readmitting?’

I glanced at her. ‘Yes, I admitted myself when I was twenty-one. I was there for three months, and then again after Bethany died.’

‘Why the first time?’

‘Drink.’

She raised both eyebrows this time. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘Yes. My parents died in June ‘89. I took it,’ I paused, ‘badly.’

The DI thought about this, scribbled something in her notebook.

‘So did your drinking ever affect your ability to look after Amy? You seem to think that Paul could use it against you.’

I swallowed hard. ‘I once forgot to pick her up from school.’

‘Why?’

I sighed. ‘Is this really relevant to finding my daughter?’

‘I’m just trying to get a clear picture here, that’s all.’ DI Ward waited.

‘I had felt stressed one morning, I often feel stressed at work. I asked my boss for an extension, went to the park and had a couple of drinks. That’s it.’

‘So you were drinking and you forgot to pick Amy up?’

I looked at the table. ‘I fell asleep.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘Paul had to get her. He was angry,’ my eyes smarted, ‘but not as angry as I was with myself.’

DI Ward nodded and stuck her pen through the spiral of her notebook. I could see her mind at work.

‘Sophie. Tell me, have you had any arguments recently? Would anyone want to hurt you or your daughter?’

‘No, I don’t have any friends and the only person, other than my work colleagues, left in my life is Paul.’ I looked at the ground, felt my cheeks warming up, and counted the ingrained stains on the carpet, three at a time. ‘Thing is, when you’re an alcoholic, your friends don’t stick around much. I guess, in some ways, I’ve distanced myself from the past. It’s dangerous letting yourself get dragged back. It’s like living two separate lives.’ I paused, ran my tongue along my bottom lip and looked up. ‘I’ve got Faye, though.’

‘Faye?’

‘She was my parents’ cleaner but, really, a friend too. She was around when they died.’ I nodded. ‘I guess she’s the only one who really gets me, knows where my mind’s at.’

‘OK, what about at university? As you clearly think it’s relevant to this investigation, what about relationships then? Anyone who might have some sort of vendetta?’

‘No.’ I shook my head firmly, then I remembered. ‘Well, other than Polly.’

‘Polly?’ The detective arched her brow.

‘Bethany started getting these weird notes at university. The words were always made out of cut-up newspapers. It was obvious that she couldn’t stand mine and Bethany’s relationship. We were close, you know. And she wanted a part of that.’

‘And her name was Polly? Polly what?’

‘Actually, we never knew who it was. She always signed off “P” and because Bethany had this really weird doll that her father had given her as a child,’ I pulled a face, ‘it was like something from a Stephen King movie that I had called Polly, I joked that Polly the doll was behind the notes.’

DI Ward gave a small shake to her head. ‘And have you heard from this person since?’

‘Since Bethany died, no.’

The DI scribbled something down. ‘Your parents. How did they die?’

‘Car crash.’ I swallowed hard. ‘There one minute, gone the next. Your entire family gone in a minute, can you imagine that? How you can lose everything so quickly?’

DI Ward’s lips moved almost imperceptibly at the corners, and she shook her head.

‘You asked about arguments,’ I continued, ‘and I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt Amy. She’s eight, for god’s sake. Who wants to hurt a child?’ Then with a sickening realisation, I said, ‘Do you think someone’s hurt her?’ Clutching the sides of the chair, I repeated my question. ‘Do you think someone wants to hurt her? I mean, it’s one thing to hurt me, but Amy …’

The DI looked apologetic. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest that at all. No, for the time being, we assume that she is OK.’

‘What now, Detective? This is my little girl we’re talking about.’ I surveyed the room and picked at a loose button on my coat. ‘Look, are you going to spend your time asking me these pointless questions or find my little girl?’

‘We have officers out looking,’ she confirmed. ‘Listen, what you said about your friend, about a murder, I want to believe you.’

I sat up.

‘But your memory seems hazy, unsure?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wondered if you might consider therapy?’

I pursed my lips. ‘I told you, I’m done with therapists.’

‘No, this is a guy who works for the police, I’m not going to lie that it’s a long shot but he’s helped someone before, and,’ she paused, ‘maybe he can help you too.’

‘Help me with what?’

‘If you really think this woman seems familiar and you really think she may be relevant to this investigation, I need more.’

‘So?’

‘So, this guy is a clinical psychologist, and he specialises in using exposure therapy to provoke the trauma and bring back those crucial memories. He’s cracked a case for us before, and you seem a prime candidate for him.’ She hesitated. ‘I know that it might seem far-fetched but let him try? If Amy has been abducted …’

‘If?’

‘I mean we can’t rule out she may have run away, despite both your protestations.’ She breathed deeply. ‘Listen, our records state your friend committed suicide but some of the official documentation doesn’t stack up.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, talk to him? His name’s Darren Fletcher. He’s good.’ A smile crossed her lips for the first time that day. ‘I think we could do this together.’

‘Do you believe me, then?’

She cleared her throat. ‘I would not be doing my job properly if I didn’t listen to everything you’ve told me today.’ She stood up. ‘I’ve also arranged a liaison officer to take you back home. Her name’s Fiona.’

‘Why do I need a liaison officer? Is she there to keep an eye on me?’

‘No, Sophie,’ she said, ‘she’s there to look after you.’

‘What about Paul? You can’t let him go until you get the truth out of him. Surely, that’s a quicker route than therapy?’ I asked, incredulous. ‘I mean he was there today.’

‘Your ex-husband stands by his statement.’ DI Ward hesitated. ‘He says he was out shopping.’ She looked at me, her gaze imploring. ‘Please, try this guy. He’s good.’

‘Do you get something in return for a referral, is that why you’re so keen?’ Even as I said it, I regretted my words. ‘Sorry, I don’t trust therapists, they don’t listen.’

‘Look at it as a way of finding Amy. We can’t rule anything out.’

She patted my arm awkwardly; it was quickly becoming a familiar gesture. ‘We’ve alerted all forces and border controls.’ I could sense she was struggling, again, with the intimacy of the moment. ‘We’ll find her. It’s just up to you to help us as much as you can.’ I nodded and she added, ‘And Paul, of course.’ She opened the door. ‘Is there someone you can call? Someone to come and be with you? Other than Fiona.’

I shook my head. ‘No one.’

She cocked her head to one side. ‘Anyone, Sophie. You just shouldn’t be by yourself right now.’ She glanced at her notebook. ‘What about Faye?’

‘No,’ I said quickly, ‘she’s too old and frail, I don’t want to worry her.’

‘But if she understands you as well as you say she does, this is probably a good time to contact her. You really need someone.’

I shook my head again, adamant. ‘No, I don’t want to worry her even further.’

‘Even further?’

‘She’s always worrying about me.’ I waved my hand through the air, brushing off the unease I felt in the pit of my stomach. ‘I’ve learnt that it’s easier to talk as Sophie the successful lawyer and mother to a beautiful girl, and not as,’ I paused, furrowed my brow, ‘not as the other side of me.’

DI Ward gave a small shrug. ‘Anyone else?’

‘I guess there’s Oliver.’ I fumbled in my bag for a tissue but the detective beat me to it and took one out of her own pocket. She appeared to have a never-ending supply.

‘It’s clean.’

I smiled gratefully and took it.

‘Who’s Oliver?’

‘Oliver Dyers. He’s a guy, a friend. We were reacquainted recently. I knew him at university. He looked me up a month ago. I guess I needed someone, I didn’t want to be alone any more.’ I blushed. ‘Though, nothing’s happened, so it’s not like that.’

The detective nodded. I could see her mind ticking over. ‘He just reappears out of the blue?’

‘He wouldn’t take Amy,’ I said firmly. ‘He barely sees his own daughter, Annabel. His ex-wife makes it difficult. He knows how hard it is to live without a child.’

‘Why’s he back then?’

‘Because he says he thinks about me all the time.’

She nodded, stayed quiet for a moment before she said, ‘I’ll want to talk to him too.’