S is for Stranger (17 page)

He must have felt me staring and his eyes flicked open. I smiled apologetically and, in turn, tried for sleep once more. Moments later, I felt something scratch my hand and opened my eyes quickly. The man held out another hessian sack. He silently indicated that I should put it underneath me. I did, more by way of making amends for my ill-mannered behaviour. He nodded, happy that I had done as I was told, and once again returned to his slumber. I had to admit, he had a point. The warmth that came from having the rough material under me allowed me to drift off.

After a couple of hours of restless sleep, I opened my eyes. A rubbish truck was making its way up the side road.
The lifting mechanism screeched with every new load of commercial waste.

It was only after a few minutes of contemplating my next move that I realised the man had gone. I lifted myself up and folded the hessian bag in a neat square. Not sure how I could return it to the owner I carefully placed it in the corner.

I glanced at my watch. My heart quickened: I had thirty hours to find Amy.

The coffee shop on the corner was already open and I ordered an espresso and a croissant. Downing the coffee in one, I ordered another. A quarter of an hour later, I was ready; my eyes stung and I could barely string a sentence together due to tiredness, but I had a plan.

As I hadn’t heard back from Jia, I headed to a library. Once I had secured a seat away from prying eyes, I started my search but I felt like I was being watched. Fear pricked the hairs on the back of my neck. I swivelled in my chair and my eyes came to rest on the librarian busy checking out books. She looked up. I gave her a small smile and turned back around in my seat.

I had feigned needing access to newspaper records for PhD research in criminology; I felt it was only partly a lie. Although I thought I must have read every article about what happened that night, maybe, just maybe, I had missed something. At first nothing came up. The pages took increasingly longer to load as my fingers tapped the keyboard vigorously. I couldn’t think of any other keywords or sets of words. Familiar articles, their font and typeface now dated, appeared on the screen. But I had seen it all before. Then, I remembered the bracelet:
To Love is to Protect.

It sounded so familiar, like something I had been told as a child. Maybe it came from a children’s story or rhyme.

My phone started buzzing on the desk. The librarian glanced over and shot me a disapproving look.

‘Hello?’ I whispered into the phone.

‘Sophie?’ Paul’s voice boomed loudly down the receiver. ‘Why are you whispering and where the hell are you?’

I left the room hurriedly, my head down.

‘Paul, why are you ringing me? How did you know this number?’

‘You gave it to me ages ago. I tried your other phone, there was no answer so I gave this number a go.’

‘Why are you ringing?’ I repeated.

‘Because you’re missing,’ he said simply. ‘Because we’re just about to do another press conference and you’re not here, because Fiona just asked me if I knew where you were.’

‘And DI Ward?’

‘She’s got officers out looking for you.’

‘Right.’ I leant up against a wall. I didn’t know if anyone was listening in; I didn’t want to give too much away.

‘That’s all you’re going to say?’

‘I’m looking for Amy.’

‘Alone?’ he asked incredulously.

‘Yes.’

‘Where are you?’ he repeated.

‘I can’t tell you.’

He lowered his voice. ‘Sophie, be careful. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’

‘I can’t just sit at home.’ I risked being heard and said, ‘She told me I have forty-eight hours to find Amy. And that was last night.’ I turned and pressed my forehead to the wall. ‘Paul, you need to go and get our little girl. We can do this,’ I hit the wall gently with my clenched hand, ‘together.’

‘Sophie, I have to go.’

‘Wait,’ I said quickly, ‘one thing, will they do it? Will this woman kill her if I don’t find her in time?’

Paul hesitated. ‘Sophie, just come home.’ Desperation tinged his words.

I knew I had to stay calm if I wanted him to tell me more. ‘Paul, please.’

Silence: the gulf of unanswered questions sat stagnant between us.

‘Paul, just tell me where she is. I’ll deal with it. I won’t involve you. Just tell me where Amy is.’

I knew he had to know Amy’s abductor or else why would he be lying? My best guess was the woman was threatening him somehow, she had some sort of a hold over him.

He killed the call and I kicked the wall with my foot in frustration. It felt as if I was going around in circles. I needed help but, as I couldn’t ask the police directly, it was time to check in on Darren.

A woman answered. ‘Darren Fletcher’s office.’

I stopped breathing. I thought I’d get straight through.

‘Would you like me to connect you?’ asked the woman.

‘Please.’

She hesitated; I could hear the rustle of paper. ‘Bear with me. Let’s see if he’s free.’ She clucked down the phone. ‘No, I’m afraid he’s got another patient. Could you ring back tomorrow?’

‘Not really,’ I answered frankly. ‘When will he be free?’

‘He’s in sessions for the entire day.’ She paused. ‘Oh, wait a sec. Can I ask who’s calling?’

I debated that one. ‘Sophie. Sophie Fraiser.’ I cleared my throat. ‘I am a patient.’

‘Ah, OK. Then that’s a different matter.’

‘Really?’ Was that a good or a bad sign?

‘Yes. Darren has left a note here stating that, if you were to ring, I must tell him. Apparently, a matter of urgency.’ She dropped her business-like guard.

Without further delay, she put me through to his office.

‘Sophie?’

‘Yes, it’s me …’

‘Where are you?’

‘I need to see you.’ I swallowed hard.

‘Everybody’s looking for you.’ He sighed deeply; it sounded as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘The DI’s onto me. Wants me to tell her as soon as you get in contact.’ He hesitated. ‘She doesn’t, however, know I’m still willing to help you. To a point, though, you understand? I know you’re not going to tell me where you are and so it would only play on my conscience if I didn’t guide you where I can.’

I nodded. ‘Did you show her your notes so far?’

‘No, patient confidentiality. Until I consider you to be a danger to the public, I can’t give her access to them.’

I felt a brief glimmer of hope: maybe the DI would see that it was all coming together.

‘Sophie,’ he said, his tone grave, ‘it would be easier if you came back.’

‘I can’t.’

He breathed heavily down the phone.

‘Darren, DI Ward told me that you managed to crack a case using exposure therapy. I read about it. Why is it not working for me?’

‘It is working, Sophie.’ He hesitated. ‘It is working but the thing is you have to be willing to open your mind up entirely. You see, if you hold back because, say, you’re scared of what you might remember, we will always hit a wall.’

‘How do I do it then? Not hold back?’ I pushed him.

‘The thing is, Sophie, it’s a double-edged sword. Your mind is protecting you by not allowing you to entirely return to the time of trauma. In some cases, when a person’s mind is fully accessed, they have never recovered.’

‘Darren, I
need
to remember who killed Bethany. I need to unlock everything. Please,’ I encouraged. ‘I’ve got a bracelet that I found after she was murdered. It says “To Love is to Protect”. Do you think this method might help even figure out if that quote is relevant?’

He sighed. ‘This person DI Ward is referring to remembered not only the events they had supressed but a great level of detail.’

My breath caught. ‘Could I do it? If I am really willing to try?’

‘Potentially,’ he said quietly. ‘In fact, I had been thinking the same thing but I’m afraid of the repercussions in light of your state of mind.’ He paused. ‘What I’m saying is, it’s a risk.’

‘OK, but I’m willing to take it.’ Then I had a thought. ‘But how do I know I can trust you? How do I know you won’t tell the detective we’re meeting?’

‘Because,’ he cleared his throat, ‘as I said I have to honour patient confidentiality. However, if I think at any point you are putting yourself or the public at risk, I need to go to the police.’

My heart leapt with joy. Finally, someone I could really trust. ‘Thank you, thank you.’ Tears spilt down my face.

We agreed to meet away from his house in two hours. I came off the phone and scanned the milling crowds of academics and visitors to the library. A quick peek at my watch told me it was mid-morning and clearly everyone had decided to go for coffee at once. As I struggled against the tide of people and made my way back toward the reading room, I felt someone’s eyes on me. Looking back, over my left shoulder, I thought I saw a person in dark clothing move in and out of my peripheral vision. I collected my locker key from beside the computer and headed downstairs to fetch my belongings. Grabbing the
duffel bag from the locker, I walked fast out of the library and checked for any unread messages from Jia or Oliver.

There were none and, as I stepped out onto Euston Road, I went to put the phone in my bag when I felt someone collide with my right arm, sending me flying as I crashed heavily against the building wall, falling to the ground.

‘What the …’ I shouted angrily, my mind trying to catch up with what had just happened.

I lifted myself off the pavement, ignoring the pain that tore through my right arm as I scanned the crowds for anyone running or familiar. There was no one.

‘Are you OK?’ A woman was beside me now: she wore a business suit and smelt of expensive perfume. ‘Here’s your bag.’ She handed me the small duffel bag. ‘And your phone.’

The phone was smashed into three or four pieces and I could tell it was broken, never to be fixed. I smiled gratefully, biting back the stinging tears. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘Did you hurt yourself?’ She frowned, waiting for me to check.

‘No,’ I lied, not wanting to show my face should she recognise me.

‘I just saw you suddenly fall to the ground,’ the woman was saying. ‘Like you had blacked out or something.’

‘Someone ran into me.’

‘Oh, do you want me to call someone for you?’

I shook my head, wishing she would go, and checked my bag. I stuffed everything back in: keys, Bethany’s CD, and a dented can of drink.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

Suddenly aware that the woman was waiting for an answer, I forced a smile and took the risk of looking up at her. ‘Fine, thank you.’

I zipped up the bag, my fingers not cooperating as pins and needles set my fingertips on fire. I flinched with the pain and the woman held my arm now.

‘Perhaps I should take you to A&E?’

‘I’m fine,’ I mumbled and hurried off in the opposite direction to where I had been going. After I rounded the corner, I stuffed my broken phone into the outside pocket of my bag and made tentative steps toward the edge of the kerb to hail a cab. It was time to see Darren again. He had said we should meet at his friend’s house. It was too risky for me to return to his. This is when I knew that Darren really was on my side.

CHAPTER 20

The taxi driver let out a low whistle as we drove up to the large Regency house.

‘Nice pile,’ he murmured. ‘You live here?’

I shook my head. ‘No. Just a friend.’

He grinned at me in his rear-view mirror. ‘That’s the kind of friend you want to keep on side.’ He glanced at the meter. ‘That’ll be nineteen-fifty then, love.’

I nodded, took out my wallet and handed him a twenty. ‘Keep the change.’

‘Much appreciated,’ he said in his East London accent. ‘You’ll be wanting a receipt?’

‘No, you’re all right.’ I started to climb out of the car.

‘You’re the lady off the telly, aren’t you?’ He turned in his seat now to get a proper look. He flashed me an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, I recognised you a while back but didn’t think it my place to say anything. Do they think they’re going to find your daughter?’

I nodded fast. ‘They’re very positive.’ I was lying: what did I know? It had been over twenty-four hours since I had spoken to DI Ward.

Once I was out of the car, he wished me luck and sped off down the quiet road. I turned and stared up at the doctor’s friend’s house, suddenly aware that the police might jump out and arrest me. Arrest me, I thought ironically, for looking for my daughter. I basically trusted
Darren but, at the end of the day, he was employed by the police.

I dragged my feet up the steps, the pain in my right arm had become unbearable and it was slowing me down. Ringing the doorbell, I looked around me. I thought I was doing well as a lawyer, but this was another echelon of society altogether.

The door opened and I fully expected to be faced with a butler.

‘Sophie,’ Darren said. ‘Am I glad to see you.’ He took me in a firm embrace; more intimate than we had ever been previously as doctor and patient. It was strange to see him in his jeans and T-shirt in the context of this house, he suited his arty terrace much more. ‘How are you?’ He held me at arm’s length and I must have flinched in pain. ‘Sophie, oh dear, are you hurt?’

‘Yes, it’s my arm.’ I explained the incident outside the library.

‘Well, come through.’ He smiled gently. ‘Come through. My friend’s a Harley Street doctor, said we could use his pad. Didn’t ask any questions.’

I nodded and followed Darren through to a large sitting room off to the left. The fire was lit and a large lamp in the corner was on. The warmth was inviting and I allowed Darren to take my coat. He carefully peeled it from my body so as not to cause me further pain. Minutes later, he came back with painkillers and an icepack.

‘I know it’s probably the last thing you want to be doing in this cold weather, but honestly, it’ll help with any swelling. I’ve got his cleaner onto tea-making duties.’

Pushing my sleeve up, I placed the icepack on the top of my right arm. A gentle knock at the door and Darren stood up.

I leapt up from the sofa, my heart beating faster. I fully expected DI Ward to walk through the door.