The Good Samaritan: A heart-stopping and utterly gripping emotional thriller that will keep you hooked

by C J Parsons

  ‘Roughly how many people were in the building that day?’

  ‘I don’t know. You would have to ask the organiser, Katie Muller in HR. We had to sign up, so she should have a list of all the parents and children who participated.’

  Juliet noted down the name.

  ‘What about outsiders? Clients, couriers, that sort of thing.’

  ‘They weren’t permitted to bring their children.’

  Juliet bit back a laugh.

  ‘What I mean is, was the office running normally, or was it closed to visitors while the children were here?’

  ‘Visitors were still permitted.’ Carrie opened the drawer to take out a fresh teaspoon. ‘I know this because I spoke to a client briefly while Sofia was in the soft-play area created in the AV room.’

  Juliet felt a pulse of adrenalin.

  ‘So . . . you weren’t watching her the entire time?’

  There was the clink of metal against ceramic as Carrie stirred milk into a cup.

  ‘No. But we were separated for less than fifteen minutes. The client had a question about a change I’d made, so we discussed it in Osman Baig’s office.’

  ‘Osman Baig? Is he your supervisor?’

  ‘Yes. He . . . assists me with client meetings. I told Sofia to keep playing and not to leave the AV room until I got back. And she didn’t.’

  ‘But someone could have spoken to her or approached her? Asked about her favourite toy or animal while you were downstairs?’

  Carrie picked up the two mugs of tea and turned to face her.

  ‘Sofia didn’t mention such a person.’

  ‘Are you certain she would have told you if she had?’

  ‘Yes, she . . .’ Carrie began. Then her eyes shifted right through a series of rapid blinks. ‘Actually, there has been an instance of her meeting someone in my absence and initially failing to mention it. So the accurate response must be: no, not necessarily.’

  Juliet nodded. She would question Sofia later, see if she remembered speaking to anyone.

  ‘Is there CCTV inside this building?’ She hadn’t noticed any on the way in. But, then, she hadn’t been looking.

  ‘Yes. There are two cameras on each floor.’

  Good. If she could get hold of the footage from 12 June, maybe she’d get lucky and find someone showing a special interest in Sofia.

  Juliet considered the woman standing in front of her, a mug of tea in each hand, wondering what toll the investigation was taking on her: the rise and dash of hope.

  ‘How are you handling the release of the park keeper? It must have come as a shock.’

  ‘Yes. It has forced me to make some adjustments, for the sake of security. But not all of the changes have been negative.’

  And just for a moment, Juliet thought she saw something – like a glimmer of light, the idea of a smile – flicker beneath the surface of Carrie Haversen’s face.

  Then it was gone.

  Twenty-one

  Carrie stood looking at the toothbrush in her bathroom mug. Colgate brand. Blue handle. The toothbrush was there because a man was staying here now. Only temporarily, of course. A week. That’s what she and Josh had agreed, following the success of his ‘sleepover’ in the spare room (Sofia had been thrilled to discover him in the kitchen the next morning, squeaking with delight over the ‘happy face pancake’ he’d made her for breakfast, with its blueberry mouth and eyes).

  Just an emergency measure, though. Until things settled down.

  But still . . .

  The sight of the toothbrush had released a strange mix of emotions: nervousness; affection; insecurity (she had, after all, failed to make a success of living with Simon). But overriding them all – a lifting sense of wonder. Carrie’s eyes rose to the mirror, to her plain, blocky features. The blue toothbrush meant that, for the first time in two years, it wasn’t just her and Sofia. Josh was here to care for them. ‘Protect’ was the word he’d used. But didn’t protecting and caring amount to the same thing? She could hear him now, moving around downstairs in the kitchen: footsteps, a cupboard door closing, the clink of crockery. Then his voice, drifting up the stairs, only just audible. ‘Carrie? Would you like some coffee?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you coming down, so the three of us can have breakfast together?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She stared at her reflection, letting the words roll around inside her head.

  The three of us. Together.

  She watched her face for a little while longer, waiting to see if it would shift on its own: whether her feelings would break to the surface.

  ‘Carrie?’

  ‘Yes. I’m coming.’

  Switching off the light, she jogged down the stairs to join them.

  ‘So what are your plans for today?’ Josh was already smearing cream cheese on a bagel when she sat down at the table. ‘Looking forward to your first full day at the office?’

  ‘Only if you’re sure about staying here with Sofia . . .’ She glanced at her daughter, who was licking the cream cheese off her own bagel.

  ‘Absolutely. Princess Penguin and I are going to have a ball, aren’t we?’

  Sofia nodded enthusiastically, then put down the bagel, which left a blob of cream cheese on her nose.

  ‘We’re making a house out of a box,’ she announced.

  Carrie turned to Josh, puzzled. ‘A box?’

  ‘Yeah, I swung by my place after work yesterday and picked up a box of stuff I’ll need while I’m staying here. I thought it might be fun to make the box into a house once I’ve unpacked. Sofia has suggested that we host a tea party inside it.’

  ‘All the penguins are invited,’ Sofia said. ‘But not the bears.’

  Josh wiped the cream cheese from her nose with a serviette.

  ‘Why not the bears?’ he asked.

  ‘Because bears eat penguins.’

  ‘Ah. Good decision.’ Josh rumpled her hair then looked across at Carrie. ‘So there you go. We’re having a civilised party, taking all necessary measures to avoid any food chain-related carnage.’ He picked up another bagel and began covering it with cream cheese. ‘How about you? What’s on your agenda for the day?’

  ‘I’m meeting a client.’ She decided against launching into the plan to have Tara help translate, adding instead: ‘Then, afterwards, I’m having lunch with a friend.’ Which was true. Hearing the words out loud triggered a small thrill of pride. Strange to think that only a month ago it had just been her and Sofia against the world. And now, here she was with a good friend and a . . . a . . . what was Josh to her now? Boyfriend? Partner? A shy feeling of happiness stole over her.

  He finished covering the bagel and put it on Carrie’s plate.

  ‘By “friend”, I assume you mean Tara?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mummy, I’m finished eating. Can I go play with my Lego house?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Sofia slipped from her chair.

  ‘Lunch with Tara,’ Josh said. She wondered why he felt the need to repeat the information. ‘That’s nice. You two are getting quite close, aren’t you, spending a lot of time together?’ She noticed that his smile didn’t disturb the upper half of his face, as though his mouth were an island, isolated from the rest of his features.

  ‘Yes. She has been a good friend to me.’ She bit into the bagel. Sesame seed. Her favourite.

  ‘Hmm.’ He propped his ankle on a knee, jiggling the raised foot. ‘I think maybe you need to be a bit careful, where Tara’s concerned.’

  She blinked, puzzled. ‘Why?’

  He picked up his own bagel, biting into it, chewing for what felt like a long time.

  ‘Well, you don’t really know her. And there’s something about her I find a bit . . . odd. First she stops you from calling the police right away when
Sofia goes missing, then she keeps popping up everywhere.’

  ‘I do know her. And I already told you: she was the one who actually called 999. If you spent some time with her, I know you’d see—’

  ‘You still haven’t met her son, have you?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘Not yet,’ he repeated. ‘Meanwhile, she’s spending a lot of time with your daughter. Intimate, one-on-one time. They seem to be building quite a close relationship, since there’s no other child around to draw Sofia’s attention away.’

  Carrie stared at him, baffled. He seemed to be implying that there was some sort of link between Tara’s relationship with Sofia and the fact that their playdate plans had fallen through.

  ‘Explain to me what you mean by that?’ She waited for him to respond, but he remained silent, eyes fixed on a point just beyond her shoulder. ‘Are you saying that Tara avoids bringing her own son over in order to strengthen her bond with Sofia?’

  Josh bit into his bagel.

  ‘Assuming she even has a son,’ he muttered through his food, the words only just audible.

  Carrie stared at him across the table. She couldn’t even begin to decipher what he meant by that.

  ‘I don’t understand what you just said.’ She waited while he polished off the last of his bagel before asking once again: ‘Explain to me?’

  Josh banged his palms against each other above the now empty plate, releasing a scatter of sesame seeds.

  ‘You know what? Forget I said anything.’

  ‘How can I when you’ve only just said it?’

  He sighed. ‘What I mean is: ignore what I just said about Tara. Go and have a good day at the office. Enjoy your lunch.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You better hurry and finish your breakfast or you’ll be late for work.’

  ‘Oh.’ She glanced down at her watch. 8.30. Shit. She’d lost track of the time. ‘I better leave now.’

  He rose quickly and began clearing plates from the table.

  ‘Shall I put your bagel in a bag to take with you?’

  ‘That’s not necessary.’

  ‘Why not? Aren’t you hungry?’

  ‘I was before.’ She looked out through the front window and was surprised to find the morning sun gone, replaced by a gloomy, leaden sky. A new front must have come in, dragging layers of cloud that choked off the light. ‘I’m not any more.’

  Carrie didn’t understand what Tara was doing. She had suddenly raised her hand, like a pupil with a question, and was still holding it up. Was there something she wanted to ask? Carrie stared at the open palm, blinking. Then Tara laughed and said: ‘Babe, I’m trying to high-five you.’

  ‘Oh.’ Of course. How stupid. Carrie leaned across the table and aimed a slap at Tara’s hand, careful not to hit too hard.

  They were in Bean There: a low-ceilinged space with black-and-white floor tiles that made the wooden tables and chairs look like giant chess pieces. Red sofas lined the walls, with arty views of London framed above them. Carrie’s client had just left, so the two of them had decamped to a table near the back for a debrief over coffee and peanut-butter cheesecake.

  Tara picked up her latte and crossed her legs.

  ‘I thought that went really well in the end.’

  ‘I agree.’ Carrie took a forkful of cheesecake (they were sharing a slice). ‘But only because you were here. Without your texts, I would never have guessed that his initial negativity was just frustration at not being able to interpret my drawings.’

  Tara smiled, fluffing out her hair with her fingers.

  ‘I’m just glad it worked out.’

  Carrie swallowed a bite of cake, basking in their shared triumph, warmed by the knowledge she had a friend who cared about her, who was prepared to go out of her way to provide help and support.

  ‘When can I meet Peter?’ she asked, keen to cement the bond between them, to forge this one missing link in the chain of their friendship. She wanted Peter to like her the way Sofia liked Tara, so she was going to make a real effort with him. Talk and try to smile.

  Carrie looked across at Tara, waiting for a response. But there was no sound except the hiss of the coffee machine and the background babble of strangers chatting. ‘Peter,’ she prompted eventually. ‘Your son?’

  Tara released a high octave laugh.

  ‘Yes, I know who Peter is.’ She put a forkful of cheesecake in her mouth, chewing and swallowing before she spoke again. ‘You can meet him whenever you like, so long as I’m not working.’

  ‘How about later this afternoon? You can bring him to our house for a playdate. Or Sofia and I could come to you.’

  She made an ‘um’ sound and took another bite of cheesecake. Swallowed.

  ‘I’m afraid this afternoon’s not great. I’ve got some paperwork that won’t wait and . . .’

  ‘Tomorrow, then: Friday.’

  ‘Oh!’ She put her fork down with a clatter. Gave Carrie a big smile. ‘Friday! I knew there was something I’d forgotten to ask. What do you say to a mums’ night out, now that you’ve got Josh as a live-in babysitter? There’s a new cocktail bar in Soho I’ve been dying to try. Underground with lots of cool spaces and flaming drinks. We can paint the town red on Friday, then meet up for a playdate on Saturday, so our children can entertain each other while we nurse our hangovers.’

  Carrie blinked as she digested this idea. A night out with Tara. What would that be like? She pictured the two of them drinking cocktails, part of the social scenery, talking and laughing. Well, she wouldn’t be laughing. Her simulated laugh wasn’t up to much – worse than her smile – so she’d given up trying. But Tara would be laughing. She was good at laughing, throwing back her head as the mirth filled her body all the way to the top. She could laugh for both of them.

  Carrie picked up her flat white and took a sip.

  ‘Yes. I would like to go out for drinks with you, if Josh agrees to babysit. And then meet for a playdate on Saturday.’

  ‘Perfect! Text me as soon as you get the green light. I’ll swing by your place and we can head out from there. Say, seven-thirty, eight o’clock?’

  ‘Yes. Good.’

  ‘I can’t tell you how much I need—’ Tara’s mobile rang. Carrie glimpsed the words ‘Eleonore Head’ on the screen and had time to think what an odd name that was before registering that Tara’s face had changed. The smile was gone and her eyebrows were pushed together, curled upward at the point where they nearly met. She drew in a swift, audible breath and said: ‘Sorry, one sec: I need to get this.’

  She rushed for the door, answering the call when she was outside the coffee shop. The front wall of Bean There was made of glass, so Carrie could see her pacing up and down the pavement as she talked. Tara dragged a hand across her eyes. Stopped in front of the door. Her shoulders drooped forwards for a moment, then she pushed them back. Put the mobile in her pocket and came back inside.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, sitting down for a second, then immediately standing up again. ‘Something’s come up. I’m afraid I’m going to have to shoot off. Shall we get the bill?’

  ‘Oh.’ Carrie looked down at the half-eaten cake and half-drunk coffee. ‘Is there a problem?’

  Tara gave her a rapid-fire smile.

  ‘No, nothing that . . . I just need . . .’ She shook her head. ‘I have to go deal with something.’

  ‘If you’re in a rush, I can pay the bill, as a small expression of gratitude for your help today.’

  ‘Thank you, that would be great, if you’re sure you don’t mind?’

  That question must have been rhetorical, because Tara was already pulling her handbag up over her arm.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

  ‘OK, then. See you tomorrow night.’

  And she walked quickly to the door, barging into a man carrying a toddler
as she pushed past, nearly knocking him over. Through the window, Carrie could see Tara breaking into a run the moment she left the café.

  Twenty-two

  Sofia didn’t want Mummy to go out. She had been right there, only a shout away, every night-time since the scary shed. It made Sofia feel safe.

  ‘Why can’t you and Tara just stay here?’ she asked grumpily, through the cloth of her pyjama top, as Mummy pulled it down over her head.

  ‘I’ll only be gone for a few hours, and you’ll be asleep anyway.’

  ‘But what if the monster comes back?’

  ‘Josh will be here to keep you safe.’ Mummy held out the pyjama bottoms (the comfy ones with the smiley moons) for her to step into. Maybe, if she didn’t put her PJs on, Mummy wouldn’t be able to go. The pyjama bottoms moved closer. ‘Put your feet in here.’

  ‘No.’

  The doorbell rang. Sofia was dimly aware that she wasn’t being fair, but big emotions were crashing around inside her and she couldn’t make them stop.

  ‘Tara is here. I have to go open the door for her. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Then she put the PJs on the floor and rushed out of the room.

  ‘You care more about her than me!’ Sofia shouted after her, then threw herself on top of the duvet, sobbing hot tears. She couldn’t explain why she was so upset, but sorrow was churning around inside her and Mummy running out of the room had made it worse. She could hear the sound of muffled voices talking downstairs. After a while, footsteps came back up. Mummy. She would feel bad when she saw all the tears she’d made happen. Good.

  Sofia sat up on the edge of the bed, wiping away snot with the back of her hand. But it wasn’t Mummy who came in. It was Tara.

  ‘Hello, lovely girl.’ She sat down beside her, the small bed creaking with the added weight. ‘What’s this I’m hearing, about not wanting to put on your PJs?’

  ‘Mummy doesn’t want to look after me. She just wants to go away and leave me with only half a pyjama on. I hate her.’

  ‘No, you don’t. You love her. You’re just upset right now.’ Tara put an arm around her shoulders. ‘But I’ll tell you what.’ She gave Sofia a mysterious smile, like a secret was happening. ‘While your Mummy and I are out tonight, I’m going to get you a special surprise, as a reward for being good.’