Читать книгу Saving Sophie: A compulsively twisty psychological thriller that will keep you gripped to the very last page - Sam Carrington, Sam Carrington - Страница 8

Karen sat with her knees up and her back against the soft velvet-covered headboard, tapping the screen of her phone.

‘What are you doing?’ Mike asked, walking around to his side of the bed.

‘Texting Liz.’

‘For God’s sake, Karen, it’s midnight. Leave it.’ He sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off his trousers. Small change from his pockets scattered on the wooden floor, clinking and rolling everywhere. ‘Darn it!’

‘I need to know if Amy’s home safe.’ Karen spoke the words quietly, thinking if she said them softly, he’d understand her need for reassurance.

‘Sophie’s so pissed up she wouldn’t have a clue who she’d been out with. Anyway, she obviously got separated from them and now they’ll be in the club until three. Do not worry Liz about it. Just go to sleep.’ He was tired. Irritable. Karen knew he hated it when she couldn’t let things go.

‘Yeah, right, like sleep is possible now. I think it’s more than just alcohol.’

‘Relax.’ He bounced up and down, settling himself and yanked the duvet up over his shoulder. He turned away from her.

‘Mike,’ she pleaded, adamant that the conversation should continue despite his warning tone. She had things playing on her mind: disturbing things. ‘Don’t you think she looked like she’d taken drugs? Or that someone had drugged her? The way she was talking …’

‘Are you for real?’ Mike flung the duvet back off, exposing his muscled torso, and sat up, eyes glaring. ‘Don’t you think the police would’ve been a bit more concerned if they suspected something untoward had happened? Just because you used to work with a bunch of screwed-up criminals, it doesn’t mean every time Sophie goes out she’s going to be targeted by would-be rapists.’

Karen smarted. ‘You were the one who shouted at Sophie, said anything could’ve happened – weren’t they your words?’

He rubbed his palms aggressively up and down his face, groaning.

‘I meant she could have been knocked over, ended up in a ditch somewhere, and yes, it did cross my mind someone could have taken advantage of her. But that clearly didn’t happen. What you’re saying is that someone purposely drugged her. I’ve no idea what goes through your head. Now please let me sleep, we’ll talk to her in the morning. It’ll all be some pathetic teenage drama, some stupid fall-out with Amy, that’s all.’ He returned to his position, facing the window with his back towards her.

A tear rolled down Karen’s cheek and hit the duvet cover. She stared at the mascara-stained drop for a moment, then ran her fingertip over it, smudging it. How could he be so insensitive? His irritation had pushed aside all he knew about her, her own traumatic experience: the attack, two years ago almost to the day. Had he forgotten why she was this way? She looked down absently. The cover would need washing now. She lifted her head, staring for a while at the back of her husband of twenty-three years. Then she continued the text.

Hi Liz, sorry to text this late, was wondering if you’ve heard from Amy? Sophie has been brought back by the police in a right state – I don’t know why she wasn’t with the others! I hope the rest of the girls have fared better. Text me when you get this please.

She put the phone on vibrate and placed it under her pillow. Snatching her sertraline tablets from the bedside table, she popped two in her mouth and swallowed without water, then went to check on Sophie.