S is for Stranger (18 page)

A woman entered the room.

‘Hello,’ she introduced herself, ‘I’m Patrick’s cleaner.’ She put a tray down on the ottoman. We waited for her to leave, closing the door behind her before either of us spoke. If she recognised me, she didn’t show it.

‘So, has the DI been in touch again?’

‘Yes. She came to my house and, well,’ he paused, ‘she asked me if I had spoken to you today.’

‘And?’

He cleared his throat. ‘I told her about patient confidentiality, but you have to understand that will only work for a while. Your daughter is missing. Technically, there’s a life at risk here and if I feel you or your daughter’s in danger, or any other member of the public, I’ll be forced to disclose everything you’ve told me so far.’

I nodded, took a sip of tea. ‘Please, Darren, I don’t have much time. Tell me what you think we can do.’

He exhaled loudly. ‘OK, as I say, I think we should have one final go at exposure therapy.’

‘OK.’ I edged forward on the sofa. ‘Do you think I’m capable?’

‘Yes, but as I said, I’m wary of the repercussions.’ He furrowed his brows. ‘Most significantly you could suffer hallucinations, imagine things. Perhaps in light of your medical history, this might be a greater risk for you.’

‘I will do anything to find Amy,’ I said firmly.

‘OK.’ He picked up a file sat on the table next to him. ‘I can show you the study if you like.’

‘No offence, I don’t have time to be reading the terms and conditions.’

He pursed his lips, bunched his fist. ‘It’s about taking you back to that night, true age regression, so that you will feel and hear what you felt. We make a connection between
the recent trauma, Amy going missing, with the past trauma of Bethany dying.’

‘Would it explain then why, when we were back at the site of the fairground, I remembered hearing another woman’s voice calling my name at the fair?’

‘Yes, exactly. Although, I would say that the level of recollection you will have reached that day, with me, might not have been enough to re-experience that night. The voices,’ he hesitated, trying to explain, ‘might not actually have been real. Your mind is substituting one thing for another. Your mind was as near as it could get to what you actually heard, but that’s not to say that the fact that your mind chose bells as the substitute is not meaningful. You could have been reaching further back to a memory of something someone’s told you.’ He paused. ‘Like Bethany.’ He was tapping his foot now, I counted every third tap. ‘OK,’ he said, clearly now fizzling with energy, ‘you mentioned the bracelet on the phone. You said you found it in your pocket after the night Bethany died. Maybe the bracelet is Bethany’s and the quote on it might be resonating with you in some way we can explore further.’

‘What do I do?’

‘Lie over here. I’m going to talk to you but the most important thing, Sophie, for this to work is you have to be willing.’

‘Of course I’m willing! I want my child back. I’ll do anything.’

He nodded. ‘It’s just when we started these sessions you were reticent, I need you to open your mind up fully. Remember why you’re doing it.’

‘Darren,’ I said as lay on the sofa, ‘I have to find my daughter in a few hours or she dies. I will do anything. I think I can remember more about that night where
I got angry with Bethany. You know that I told you about last time?’

He nodded and with that, I settled back on the sofa, closed my eyes and listened to him talking. He started to paint a scene. It wasn’t a scene I knew and yet it was strangely familiar.

‘OK, Sophie, on the count of three I want you to tell me where you are.’

‘I’m in a taxi and it drops us off at the end of a long drive.’

‘Who are you with?’

‘Bethany.’

‘Can you tell me what you can smell, what you can hear?’

‘The taxi smells dusty mingled with Bethany’s perfume.’

‘Does the taxi driver have any music on?’

‘Yes, there’s some classical music on low. I don’t recognise it.’

I became aware that Darren had started up some very quiet music.

‘OK, continue, Sophie.’

‘We get out of the taxi and we start walking toward a huge house. I remember thinking that it’s now eerily quiet, no one around. Just us.’

Darren stops the music.

‘Is it cold?’

‘Freezing. I’m shivering.’

‘Are you in the countryside?’

‘Yes, in the middle of nowhere, near Aberystwyth.’

‘How do you feel?’

‘I remember feeling sick inside, like something bad is going to happen.’ I swallowed. ‘We’re arguing. I don’t want to go any further but Bethany tells me it’s the last time. I hate her in that moment for having this power over me.’

‘OK, does someone greet you at the door?’

‘Yes, a man.’

My heart started to pound faster as I remembered his face. Darren must have sensed me starting to panic.

‘Keep as calm as you can, Sophie. It will help keep your mind open.’

I took a deep breath. ‘He was the diplomat, the man hosting the party.’ Involuntarily, I put my hand to my cheek. ‘It’s suddenly much warmer.’

‘Why, Sophie?’

‘We’ve passed a room with a fire.’

‘Do you go into that room?’

‘No, he leads us upstairs and then – then …’

‘Sophie, you are safe here, keep your mind open.’

‘There are businessmen. Five, I think. Sitting in a semi-circle around the bed.’

‘Why are they there?’

‘To watch us.’

‘Watch you?’

‘Yes.’ My breathing quickens. ‘I didn’t know it would be like this. We were asked to bring handcuffs, but I didn’t know. Then the door was locked.’ I let out a sob. ‘We were trapped.’

‘Sophie, shhh, you’re doing well.’

I sensed Darren was nearer me now. ‘What happens next?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Try. I know it’s hard but do try.’

‘We snort some coke, I think. And drink.’

‘How does that make you feel?’

‘Light-headed. Sick.’

‘OK, and then …’

‘I don’t remember what we did. I really don’t.’

‘Sophie, you’re doing so well, keep going as long as you can.’

‘There’s a woman in the room.’

‘Not Bethany?’

‘No, another woman.’

‘Who is she? Who is the woman?’

‘I don’t know! She’s really familiar, but I don’t know.’

‘OK.’

‘She has a gun and a knife. She …’

‘You’re doing well, keep going.’

‘I’m screaming. Telling her no. Don’t do it. I knock her arms out of the way, try and get the gun, but she’s determined.’

‘She has shot your friend? Sophie, has this woman shot your friend?’

‘Yes. Yes. Yes. Bethany’s head bounced backward.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m falling. Falling.’

‘Where?’

‘To the ground.’

‘Anything else, Sophie? What does “To love is to protect” mean, Sophie?’

‘I don’t know!’

‘Try, dig deeper, let your mind go.’

‘The woman, she kept saying it, the woman who killed Bethany.’

‘So, the bracelet belongs to the killer?’

‘Yes. No … I don’t know! I thought it was Bethany’s. Maybe the killer knew about the bracelet.’

I sat bolt upright, a shadowy, forgotten memory attempting to push its way to the forefront of my mind.

‘Sophie,’ Darren was by my side now, ‘are you OK? Here’s a tissue.’

I hadn’t even realised I was crying. Hot, furious tears cascaded down my cheeks. ‘I feel like the answer is so obvious. Just then … I almost remembered something,
something that I know is so important. But, just like that, the thought had disappeared.’

Darren nodded gravely. ‘I can understand that. Your mind automatically shuts out pain, grief, anxiety and in order to remember, you need to open your mind even further.’

I blinked. ‘How do I do that?’

‘The only way,’ he took my hand, ‘is to face your fears.’

‘You make it sound so easy.’ I withdrew my hand and twisted the tissue round and round into a tight knot.

‘It’s not easy. But your greatest fear is also your greatest strength.’

I smiled weakly. ‘That’s deep.’

He patted me on the hand. ‘Your greatest fear is losing your daughter?’

‘Of course.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes, feeling like I know the woman who killed Bethany. How I can get so close to remembering.’

Darren considered this for a minute. ‘Well, maybe until you allow your mind to face the fear of finding out exactly that, we won’t be able to go any further.’

I was about to ask him how I go about getting over that fear when Darren’s phone rang. He looked at me, his eyes not leaving mine as he answered.

‘Yes, OK,’ he said to the caller. ‘Yes.’

The one-word answers and I knew who he was talking to: the police. I ran for the door and out onto the street. I didn’t look back once.

CHAPTER 21

Without a mobile, I couldn’t ring Jia. By now, she might have more information on Bethany; moreover, she might have something on her father. I knew she’d be unhappy if I just turned up on her doorstep but, without a phone, I couldn’t think of another way of contacting her.

Two buses later, I was in Soho. It was rush hour: agency workers and media types spilt out onto the roads and into the nearest bars and restaurants. I crossed Shaftesbury Avenue, walked under the gateway to Chinatown, and headed for Jia’s workplace. She lived in an amazing apartment with panoramic views of the city, but worked out of a bedsit in Chinatown. In her line of work, finding out information that most people could never legally get a hold of, she felt safer hidden away.

I walked down the steep steps leading to the basement and knocked twice in rapid succession, followed by a pause, and then twice again.

The door opened a crack. ‘Sophie.’

I could just make out a sliver of her face. ‘My phone is broken,’ I explained.

‘Come in.’

I shuffled through the small opening and Jia shut the door directly, pulled the chain across and double bolted it.

‘Had some problems recently,’ she said in her Chinese-London twang.

‘I know you prefer to do business via the phone but, as I say, my phone was broken and …’

She looked at me and grinned. ‘I’ve just got to be careful, you know how it is, but I’m glad you came.’ She came over and hugged me tight. ‘How you doing, Sophie?’

I struggled to find the words and she gestured for me to sit. ‘I’m … I’m … I just want her back.’ I wiped away tears with the back of my hand. ‘There’s so much going on, stuff I can’t tell anyone. Things no one can understand. But the woman who’s got her …’

‘You know who’s got Amy?’ Jia sat beside me, rubbing my back with her hand.

‘Not exactly but I think it’s related to something that happened years ago. I just have to figure out who’s behind it and why my ex-husband is involved.’

‘Paul? Really?’ She stood up, started busying herself with the kettle.

‘Really.’ There wasn’t enough time to bring her up to speed on the session with Darren. ‘Jia, did you find anything out about Bethany? I can’t stay long but if you have something, anything, I need to know.’

‘Coffee?’

I shook my head. ‘I really need to get going.’

She abandoned the kettle and sat down.

When she didn’t speak, I pressed her. ‘Jia.’

‘OK, but I believe you might think I’m a liar.’

‘What do you mean? Please, Jia, tell me.’ I caught her eye. ‘I have twenty-four hours to find Amy or she will be killed.’

Jia nodded slowly, her gaze cast downward at the pile of papers on the coffee table. She picked up a pencil and studied my face.

‘Bethany is an illegitimate child.’

I jerked my head backward. ‘What? She never talked about her family but I didn’t think it was because of something like this.’

‘There’s more.’

I looked at Jia, my eyes imploring. ‘Tell me.’

‘You’ve met your friend Bethany’s mother?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, a few times but only briefly and I never met her father. She didn’t like talking about him. I think she was ashamed of the money he pushed her way but, also, she acted as if he suffocated her.’ I thought back to the bracelet:
To Love is to Protect.
Suddenly the engraving made sense. Were they the words of a man who, perhaps, hadn’t known that love – too much love – could push someone away, not bring them closer? That Bethany wouldn’t have entered that house if it hadn’t been for her desperate need to prove something to herself; some sort of independence.

‘As I say, she was born out of wedlock.’ Jia sat upright, the lamp behind her creating a kind of halo effect: like she was about to deliver some great truth to me.

‘Jia, please.’ I reached inside my bag to retrieve my wallet. Taking out two fifty-pound notes, I placed them on the desk.

‘Bethany’s father is Zander Thompson.’

‘Zander?’ I gasped and gave a small shake to my head. ‘But he’s my boss. How can he be my best friend’s father?’ My hand went up to my mouth as I tried to take it in. ‘My dead best friend’s father.’ I looked at her, uncomprehending. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I know. When I got hold of her birth certificate, I couldn’t believe it either. At first, I thought it was no one of importance but I looked into his background and made the connection. That’s when I found out, he owns the firm you work for.’

My head was spinning: I wanted the world to right itself but, instead, I was discovering that those people I knew, those people I could trust, were involved in a web of lies. A web so sticky, so tangled, I was in mortal danger of being dragged into its very centre and left flailing.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

It was time to leave. We stood and she hugged me at the door before releasing the lock. I walked up the stairs, my eyes squinting against the bright daylight and heard the door slam behind me.

I needed answers: it was time to find a phone and a computer. Once on Shaftesbury Avenue, it was easy to signal a cab.

‘Hampstead Heath, please.’ I climbed into the back, grateful for the dark quiet space to think. I needed somewhere safe and Faye’s house was as close to that as was possible at this time.

It wasn’t until I went to pay the driver, I realised Jia had tucked the fifty-pound notes back into my bag.