S is for Stranger

by Louise Stone

‘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 sho
uld 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.

  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 tim
e. 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.’