S is for Stranger (19 page)

Within minutes, Faye had taken my coat, sat me down and put the kettle on. She had a tea towel in her hands which she kept folding this way and that.

‘Sophie, why didn’t you contact me sooner? I’ve been worried sick.’ As soon as the kettle had boiled, she put the towel down. ‘Tea?’

I nodded. ‘Please.’

‘I noticed you weren’t at the press conference yesterday. I saw it on the news. Paul was there but you weren’t. That’s when I knew something was wrong.’ She paused. ‘Then that female detective turned up on my doorstep an hour later.’

‘What did she say?’

She cocked her head and poured the boiling water into mugs, her hand visibly trembling. ‘She said your Family Liaison Officer couldn’t find you. Did I know where you
were?’ She cleared her throat. ‘I said no. Which was the truth but it got me thinking.’

She had her back to me now and I could see her shoulders quivering gently. I rose from the chair and came up behind her, putting my hand on her shoulder. She turned, her face wet with tears.

‘Aw, Faye. I’m truly sorry.’

She sniffed. ‘I was just worried, you know? You’re like a daughter to me and I thought, at first, I thought …’ She fished out a hankie from inside her cardigan sleeve. ‘I thought you might have done something stupid.’

‘Stupid?’ I nodded: the realisation of what she was saying dawned on me. ‘Kill myself?’

She grimaced at my blunt wording. ‘Yes.’

My heart twisted with guilt. How could I put the one person who understood me so well through this?

‘Faye, it’s fine. I’m fine.’

‘Sophie, it’s just you know and I know that there are two sides to you. That things haven’t always been easy.’

‘I’m trying to find Amy myself.’ I nodded with a false confidence. ‘I think the woman who has Amy killed Bethany. She’s come back to find me.’ I knew, for Faye’s sake, I needed to keep the details brief.

Faye cupped my chin in her hand, her skin crepe-like and clammy. ‘Are you in danger?’ I didn’t speak. ‘You must be careful. Please.’ She turned now, her movements awkward. ‘You think this person has Amy?’

‘I’m pretty sure.’ I took the mug from her. ‘Faye, do you mind if I use your computer and phone.’

Relief passed over her face. ‘Of course, what else can I do?’ She needed to feel useful.

‘I’d love to stay the night too. If that’s OK.’

‘My goodness,’ she smiled now, ‘of course it is. You are always welcome here, you know that. I’ll make you a good
supper too. Get your strength up. I don’t think you know how thin you’ve got.’

I gave a small smile. ‘It’s certainly one way to diet, but I wouldn’t recommend it.’

‘Just like your mother … You don’t know your own beauty, darling Sophie. Inside and out.’

She told me to use the spare room: she had put fresh bedding on in case I turned up.

‘And you know where the computer and phone are. Help yourself.’

I nodded gratefully. ‘Did the detective mention anything about that night?’

‘She asked if I knew anything about it or the time you spent in the Priory. She was on her way to see someone called Darren. A doctor of some sort.’

‘That’s it?’ I pressed.

‘She said she was going to look into that night.’ Faye frowned. ‘But couldn’t be sure it would amount to much.’ Faye reached into her pocket and took out a card. ‘I’ve been told to ring her if you turn up.’

‘Please don’t.’

Faye paused, deliberating. ‘But don’t you think it would be for the best?’

‘No, I can’t trust them.’

She nodded slowly, unquestioning. ‘I’ll put supper on then.’

I headed upstairs, turned on Faye’s ancient computer and dug around in my duffel bag for the photo of Amy. I struggled to find it and quickly emptied the bag of its contents. It was then that I brought out what I thought was Bethany’s CD but a wave of panic moved over me as I quickly realised it wasn’t. Bethany’s was there too but this new one, I didn’t recognise. My mind flashed back to the library and falling to the ground. My breathing grew shallow as I realised someone had planted it in my bag.

Sitting quickly in the office chair, I loaded the CD and double clicked on the disk icon. The hard drive whirred into action and I sat back, waiting.

A pair of eyes filled the screen and I watched in horror as a large image of Amy’s face slowly panned out to reveal that she was tied to a chair, her mouth covered in duct tape. I struggled to breathe, my chest tight. Amy thrashed about in the chair, lashing her head from one side to the other. She was so much thinner too.

I screamed before ramming my fist into my mouth, fearful Faye would hear me. Tears streamed down my face and I put one hand up to the screen, caressing her image with my forefinger.

On the CD, I could hear the scraping of wood against wood. Seconds later, Amy’s face came up inches from the lens. She was so close: I could make out the individual freckles on her nose and the small scar above her eyebrow where she had fallen off the swing aged five. She had been so brave about the stitches. I touched her image with my hand again.

‘Amy, sweetheart.’

A voice at the door and a gentle knocking: ‘You OK in there, Sophie?’ Faye asked. ‘You sound upset. Can I come in?’

‘I’m fine,’ I called back, my voice wavering and paused the CD. ‘Honestly.’

Silence ensued and I thought Faye might have left but seconds later, she said, ‘Sophie, supper will be ready in half an hour. OK?’

‘Sounds great.’ I forced a bright and breezy tone.

After a minute or so, I heard Faye’s footsteps on the stairs.

I pressed play again and realised Amy was speaking. I leant in, my face right up to the screen. The room she was in looked strangely familiar. I could see past Amy, out the window, and I felt like I had been there before. I could
just make out a metal sign on the wall behind Amy, it read: Shamrock Place.

She whispered, ‘Mummy, please can you stop this. Please help me.’

I was shaking uncontrollably. I needed answers and used Faye’s landline to phone Zander, my boss’s, mobile. I knew the number off by heart because, I realised guiltily, of the number of times I had to phone to say I’d be late or request an extension. He had not once argued with me, or made me feel bad.

There was no answer. I tried again. Instead I phoned Thompson and Partners’ main line. It was time to find out why Bethany’s father had employed me all those years ago. It was out of hours, but only just, and worth a shot. I knew Bex, the receptionist, hardly ever left the office before seven. She went straight from the office to some gym class pretty much every day.

Clearing my throat, I dialled.

‘Thompson and Partners Limited. How may I help you?’

Relief shot through me. ‘Bex, it’s me. Sophie.’ Silence. ‘Sophie Fraiser.’

‘Hi, Soph.’ She sounded panicky. ‘How you doing?’

Why did everyone keep asking me that question: it felt so pointless but I answered anyway. ‘You know, not great.’

‘Hmm. I can imagine.’

‘Actually, Bex, I was wondering if you could put me through to Zander?’

‘Right.’ I could almost hear the clickety-clack of her bright red manicured nails moving over the keyboard, drumming the edge of the desk. ‘He’s actually on a call right now. Can you call back? Or I can get him to give you a ring?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll call back later.’

I hung up the phone but I had already decided I needed to see him in person. To see the whites of his eyes when
I told him I knew who his daughter was. Gathering my coat and wallet, I made my way downstairs and explained I was just popping out for a bit.

‘Oh no, Sophie. I’ve cooked your favourite. Lasagne.’ Faye looked dismayed.

‘I’ll be back before you know it. But you go ahead and eat.’

‘Sophie, do you have a mobile?’

I remembered mine had been broken into smithereens and I shook my head.

She handed me her phone: even more brick-like than the damaged one upstairs. ‘You never know when you might need it.’ She scribbled her landline number on a post-it note and passed it to me. ‘I’ll eat now but I’ll warm some up for you later.’

I smiled appreciatively and hugged her close. ‘Thank you.’

‘Be safe.’

The night sky was clear. I wrapped my coat closely around me and tightened the belt. It would take me a good hour or so to get to the office in Temple but I needed to speak to him.

It was time to get some answers from Zander Thompson: my boss and Bethany’s father. I wanted to know why he had never told me who he was, how I had come to be working for the very man my dead best friend hated. I certainly didn’t believe the link was coincidence.

CHAPTER 22

I made the familiar journey down Surrey Street toward Thompson and Partners. As I neared, I could just make out a figure leaving the building: Bex. She didn’t bother locking up because, just as I had thought, she wasn’t the last to leave. In fact, the building was pitch-black except for one window.

Opening my wallet, I retrieved my card to access the building. As I swiped, I held my breath: it wouldn’t have surprised me if Bex had cancelled the card. But she hadn’t thought of that and I entered the building quickly and quietly, making sure the large swing-door didn’t slam back on itself. The reception area was dark; the only light came from the tropical fish tank in the corner. An angelfish darted through the water, kicking up the sand on the bottom. I waited for my eyes to adjust before moving up the stairs. The office had, in some ways, become a home from home. But now, I was a stranger in a foreign land.

I knew I had to take Zander unawares. My ears were pricked: listening out for any movement but the only sound to cut through the murky gloom was the high-pitched hum of the pump in the fish tank. I felt for the first step and began the steady climb up to the fifth floor. Remembering Faye’s phone, I took it out and pressed a key to power up the display. It gave me just enough light to make it to the first floor, after which, I used the eerie green light from the
fire exit signs. As I neared the top, I stopped momentarily to catch my breath. I put the phone back in my pocket, dragged my hand through my scraggly hair and strode up the final few steps.

I could see Zander through the glass, sat at his desk, whisky in hand. The gentle sound of Mozart drifted over the still office space and, for a brief second, I just watched him. This man who I thought I knew. He looked different to me now. I wasn’t sure if he had physically changed but there was something about his overall appearance that didn’t feel right. Normally, Zander was a man in control: clean, pressed suits at all times, hair slicked back, shaven. I shifted my weight from my right foot to the left and a pen I had been carrying in my pocket fell to the ground.

Zander shot up, out of his chair. ‘Who’s there?’ He strode to his office door and leant out. ‘Who’s there?’

I stepped out of the shadows. ‘It’s me, Zander.’

An expression of sadness, or remorse, flitted across his face. ‘Ah, Sophie.’ He took a tentative step out of the office into the darkness and I heard him fumbling about with switches before he flicked them on and the entire office space was bathed in a harsh fluorescent light.

‘What on earth are you doing here, Sophie? It’s so late. Has something happened?’

I stood rooted to the spot. My mind couldn’t comprehend the situation or the man in front of me.

‘I know who you are,’ I replied simply, a small rumble underpinning my words; the organic beginnings of hysteria before it became fully fledged.

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He turned from me and headed back into his office. ‘Soda water?’ He concentrated on plucking ice cubes from a bucket and dropped them into a glass. Slowly, he unscrewed the bottle cap and poured me a drink. ‘Do you mind?’ He indicated
the whisky on his desk and I shook my head. Taking his own tumbler, he topped up the already neat whisky with another finger. ‘I’m not sure I understand, Sophie.’

I sat myself down on the edge of his leather Chesterfield and he returned to sitting behind his desk. A nervous fluttering in my stomach and the sudden onset of clammy hands, took me back to our first meeting. Our interview had been more of a chat, less a grilling. I had walked into the job or, at least, that was what it had felt like. Now, I was beginning to wonder if Zander had dubious reasons for taking me on.

‘You’re Bethany’s father.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Bethany?’

I cleared my throat. ‘Yes. Bethany Saunders. Your illegitimate child.’

He gave a small shake to his head. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You don’t know what I’m talking about?’ I took a huge gulp of soda water. ‘I have proof. You can’t lie. I’ve seen the birth certificate.’

He leant back in his chair. Mozart had reached a crescendo and Zander appeared to be absorbing every last note. I waited, wondering how long he could keep up this façade.

‘Why did you employ me? Did you know I was Bethany’s friend?’

Zander eventually opened his eyes, put down his tumbler and swivelled the chair so as to face me head on. Up close, I saw that he really was a shadow of his former self. His shirt appeared to hang off his frame, his eyes looked sunken and he had a couple of days’ worth of stubble.

‘Sophie, any more news on your daughter? I’ve seen from the news that they’re looking for you too now.’

I didn’t know what to say any more. Previously, I would have told anybody, anything. I had believed that everyone was on side, apart from the custody battle; I honestly thought everything else was pretty straightforward. Now, I found myself thinking twice before I divulged any information.

‘No more news,’ I replied simply.

‘I was so sorry to hear. I hope you know that.’

I stood up, the soda water sloshing from my glass onto the deep blue carpet. ‘Why are you changing the subject? You’re not answering my question.’

The Mozart CD stopped, whirring to a halt. An impenetrable silence descended on the room. I thought of the CD with Amy and her tear-stricken face and looked at my watch. I had less than twenty-four hours remaining. Time was running away from me like sand through my hands.

‘Bethany never talked about you. Or, at least, she talked about how you just gave her money all the time and about how you wanted to protect her from everything.’ I glared at him. ‘You pushed her away, Zander. Did you know that? Your love for your little girl was too much.’ I reached into my coat pocket and took out the bracelet, strode over to the desk and thrust it under his nose. ‘Do you know what this is? Do you remember giving this to her?’