Saving Sophie

by Sam Carrington

  Did you stay for the duration then? Who was with you?

  She tapped the side of the mobile, her long acrylic nails clicking against the plastic casing. It was ten minutes before the vibrating heralded an answer.

  Ended up at Shafters, as usual. All the boys made it, but lost Amy and Erin way before the club.

  That wasn’t what she wanted to read. Shafters, the club’s nickname, was the one Sophie was found near. Erin likely got fed up and went back to her dad’s; she wasn’t into clubbing like the others, she preferred the pubs. But the fact that Amy hadn’t been with them was worrying. Where had she gone?

  It was common for Amy to break from the group. Such a social butterfly, she loved being the centre of attention. And attention she got. Every night out, without fail, it was like she was the main act at Glastonbury: everyone crowding around her, bustling her, trying to get her to notice them. Her beautiful shiny, long dark hair, her flawless complexion, her vivaciousness; she had it all going for her. She was easily the most popular of the group. They’d met at work, Amy was on the beauty counter opposite the fashion concession Sophie worked for. They’d hit it off immediately, despite her being two years older.

  Where was the last place you saw Amy?

  Her acrylic nail lifted as she chewed at the skin on the side of her thumb. Why was it taking him so long to reply? All of her nails would need replacing at this rate. Maybe she’d have to do a group text. It might be a quicker way of getting the answers she so desperately needed.

  Another ping. At last.

  I saw her and Erin shove you into a taxi, outside the White Hart. I think she came into The Farmer with us, then. I can’t remember seeing her again after. She’ll have gone off with some bloke, you know what she’s like. Xx

  Yes. She knew what Amy was like. That’s what worried her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tues 7.00 p.m.

  Where’ve you been, my sweet? I hope you are going to reply by tonight. I’m fed up of sending texts and messages and getting no reply. I’ve missed talking to you, it’s been 2 days! I want to know how the plans are coming along for our ‘date’, it seems like I’ve been waiting for ever! A guy can only be so patient, you know

  xxxxxx

  Fri 11.57 p.m.

  So sorry I haven’t replied. I’ve been so busy. There’s lots going on here, I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to meet up for our date tomorrow, something’s come up. Looks like you may have to be patient for a bit longer!

  xxx

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Karen

  The Facebook notifications sent her phone into overdrive, each new alert sounding seconds after the next. Karen snatched up her mobile and pressed the Facebook app. Her shoulders slumped. The status she’d been dreading:

  Has anyone seen or heard from Amy? She didn’t come home last night and her mobile is going straight to voicemail. Can you share this, please? Really worried.

  It had started. Now the inevitable questions would follow.

  ‘Sophie. SOPHIE.’ Karen took two stairs at a time.

  ‘What?’ Sophie appeared at her door. She’d kept well out of the way for the entire day, only flitting downstairs to get food and then disappearing again before Mike detained her for further questioning. Karen had left her alone. There wasn’t much to gain from continuing to ask her questions she didn’t have an answer to. Her plan had been to try and approach Sophie’s friends without her knowledge, social media was easy for this purpose: ask around, find out which taxi firm had been used and take it from there. The Facebook status from Liz had just changed those plans. This was getting serious.

  ‘Liz is asking people to share her status on Facebook, Sophie. One saying Amy hasn’t made contact yet, and whether anyone has seen or heard from her. Have you?’

  Sophie’s face scrunched. ‘No. Nothing, I’ve sent like, twenty texts. And group messages. We all have.’

  ‘All? Who is all?’

  ‘Our group, nearly everyone that was out last night. No one has seen or heard from her.’

  ‘What the hell happened last night? Something must have. Please, Sophie, you have to remember.’

  ‘I can’t. You going on about it and saying I MUST remember, doesn’t help. I. Do. Not. Remember. Got it?’ She stepped back inside her room and slammed the door.

  Karen stayed, standing there stock-still. This was turning into a nightmare. Why wasn’t Sophie as worried as she was? She’d be horrified if any of her friends had gone missing, she’d be going out of her way to help. She tried to calm down. Apart from sending texts and messages to the others, perhaps there wasn’t much else Sophie could do at this stage.

  She ran back downstairs into the dining room and fired up her laptop. Somehow, seeing it on the bigger screen made it scarier: thirty or so concerned comments from Liz’s friends, and some from the group of teenagers Sophie mentioned they’d been out with, all saying the same. No one knew where she was. Karen started Googling Missing Persons. A few clicks later and she slammed it shut again. Maybe it was better not to look, better not to jump to conclusions.

  How long do you give it before contacting the police?

  Karen dialled Liz’s number.

  ‘Any developments?’ Mike raised his eyes from his iPad as Karen walked in. He’d managed to make it to the lounge from the kitchen, a whole ten feet or so. He was now sitting, legs sprawled in front of him, back against the sofa, iPad balanced on his thigh.

  ‘Liz is giving it another hour, then she’s calling the police. I don’t know how she’s holding off. I would’ve done that already.’

  ‘You don’t want to spark a missing person’s appeal then have Amy turn up, hungover and apologetic because she’s been asleep all day. Too embarrassing.’

  ‘I think I’d rather be embarrassed. Imagine holding off for an hour, and then finding out that hour had been vital. I’d never forgive myself.’

  ‘Be grateful it’s not your daughter, then.’

  ‘Jesus, Mike.’ She walked away. She should be doing something more constructive. The knowledge Sophie would become key if this got as far as the police played heavy on her mind.

  ‘What about Erin? Has she told you which taxi she put Sophie in?’ he shouted after her.

  ‘No, I haven’t got around to checking it out yet. Sophie hasn’t heard from her, I don’t think.’

  ‘You do realise they are likely to be together, then?’

  ‘That’d be good. I hope that’s the case. I’ll give Rach a call in a minute to check.’ Karen wandered into the kitchen, her mind afloat with thoughts of what might have happened to Sophie. And what might have happened to Amy. She flicked the kettle back on. More coffee was required. ‘I wonder if Liz has phoned the hospitals,’ she said, more to herself than Mike. She leaned against the worktop, and while waiting for the kettle, checked the Facebook app on her mobile again. More comments offering ‘hugs’ and a couple of people had asked about hospitals. The reply from Liz was, yes, they’d checked already.

  The police were clearly next.

  Not much she could do right now. She’d keep tabs on Facebook and, with luck, there’d be some news soon. She sighed. There was still the washing in the machine – Mike’s ranger uniform he needed for work tomorrow. She’d best dry that, he couldn’t go up on Dartmoor with damp clothes. And they hadn’t eaten – her mind had been too preoccupied to consider food.

  Her chest tightened and the nervous feeling she was accustomed to squirmed in her stomach. There was so much to do tomorrow. She hated Mondays. On top of her daily household chores, she had the counselling. She put out both hands and spread them on the worktop to steady herself. She inhaled deeply through her nose, held it, then blew out of her mouth. Breathe. Repeat. The thought of facing the day with all the unanswered questions was daunting.

  The ringing mobile stopped her thoughts. It was Rachel. At least a conversation with her oldest friend might lift her current mood and she could ask her to grill Erin about the taxi company. It’d be be
tter if her own mother did it, rather than Karen stalking her on Facebook. It’d been a few weeks since she’d last spoken to Rachel properly, one thing or another preventing a call. They often went weeks, occasionally months, with only the odd text to check the other was fine. But it didn’t matter; their bond was too strong for a lapse in time to break it. Rachel was Karen’s rock and always had been. She wouldn’t have got through the last two years without her.

  Karen quickly pressed to accept the call.

  ‘Hey, Rach. You beat me to it, I was about to call you.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sophie

  Her head was still woozy. Almost an entire day of feeling like death – had it been worth it? Sophie sat in the same position she’d been in for hours, her limbs aching with inactivity. Her thumb swept across the screen of her mobile, scrolling through the feeds on Facebook, checking for any news.

  The ding sounded unusually loud in her quiet room – it wasn’t the noise for her usual notifications. She tapped the screen. A new email. She hadn’t had an email for a while, not having used her account for months. Within the message from the unknown sender was a link. She should ignore it, delete immediately; it could be spam, a virus. Her thumb moved to the delete tab, then stopped. The words made her hesitate:

  You’re gonna want to see this. More will follow. Do you recognise her?

  Without waiting to consider it any further, Sophie clicked on the link.

  The picture was cropped. Faceless.

  A black dress, hitched up, revealing bare legs. A small tattoo visible on one ankle.

  She swallowed, the constriction of her throat making it painful.

  She knew immediately who it was.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Karen

  ‘Did you know Amy is missing?’ Rachel’s soft voice was edged with anxiety.

  ‘Been keeping tabs on Facebook all day, do you know anything?’

  ‘Was hoping you did. She was with Sophie, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Honestly I’m at my wits’ end worrying about this. Well there’s a story – you know me, Rach, there’s always a story …’

  There was a dry, nervous laugh, then: ‘Go on, spill it.’

  Karen retold the events of the evening: the police, Sophie’s unfathomable ramblings about Amy, her complete lack of any memory of the night. Her eyes burned as new tears fell. Talking about it to Rachel brought it to life; seeing something unfold on social media was one thing, speaking about it was quite another. And now it was all too real; not distant, not happening to people she had never heard of. It was happening here, to those she loved and cared about.

  ‘Look, don’t get too worried. I haven’t spoken to Erin yet, perhaps she knows more. It may not be what we’re thinking.’

  ‘How come you haven’t spoken to Erin?’ Surely that was the first thing she should’ve done.

  ‘Mobile’s switched off. And she’s at Adam’s … you know he’s moved in with her, don’t you?’

  ‘No way! He only left yours four months ago. Oh, I’m really sorry, Rach, I’ve been a rubbish friend lately, you should’ve rung me …’ Karen’s free hand moved unconsciously to her face, running her thumb and forefinger along the bump on the bridge of her nose.

  ‘Yeah, well, you’ve had enough on your mind. It’s a story for another time – preferably over wine.’

  ‘That’s such a kick in the teeth. He’s an absolute idiot.’

  ‘You never did like him. Anyway, the thing is, the poxy house is right in the centre of Coleton, isn’t it, so of course Erin thinks it’s brilliant. Her dad’s suddenly the best thing since the invention of the mobile because he has a house nearer to her friends and her job. Barely see her at weekends now, she goes out in town, goes clubbing, then staggers home to him. And her.’

  ‘I guess it’s an ideal situation, a teenager’s dream,’ Karen huffed. ‘Sorry though, must hurt.’

  ‘Like a knife straight through my very soul. You know how much I’ve put into this family, how much I adore Erin. It’s killing me. He barely knew this woman before shacking up with her. But, let’s focus on Amy …’

  ‘Well, now you’ve told me this, I think it’s fairly obvious. I bet Amy’s with Erin at his. You’ll have to phone.’

  There was a long silence. ‘Okay. If I have to.’

  ‘Um, yeah, you have to. You’re going to have to put all your resentment to one side, clear this up before the police get involved. If they haven’t already.’

  ‘I suppose I was hoping by phoning you first, you might already know where Amy was, stop me from having to humiliate myself.’

  ‘It’s just one quick call. Say what you have to, then go. Simple. Sorry I couldn’t be more help – it’s up to you, love.’

  ‘Cheers, mate,’ she laughed, ‘I’ll let you know the outcome.’

  ‘Thanks, but please, for heaven’s sake, let Liz know first, she’s beside herself.’

  ‘Of course. Right. Let’s sort this out.’

  Karen released a large lungful of air. Another ten minutes or so and this will be over. At least, the part about Amy being missing. The rest was only just starting: there was still the matter of Sophie’s missing two and a half hours between being put in a taxi and being brought home by the police. She wasn’t sure getting to the bottom of that would be so easy.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sophie

  The picture was of her.

  Her, wearing the clothes she’d worn last night. And it was no selfie. Sophie threw the phone on her bed, as if it had sent an electric shock through her fingertips. She stared at it, then shook her head a few times, screwing up her eyes, trying to remember. But there was nothing. Who had taken this, and where? What were they intending to do with it, and what ones were to follow?

  Standing, feet planted, paralysed in the centre of her messy room, Sophie clenched and unclenched her fists, then clicked her knuckles: pulling down one finger at a time with the thumb of each hand until they cracked.

  What should she do? Forcing herself to move forwards, she reached to pick up the phone. Her hands trembled. The picture was still visible. She had to face this, figure it out. Zooming in, she navigated the background in an attempt to see if anything was familiar. It seemed she was in a chair of some sort, legs splayed, slouched back. She guessed from the angle of her body that her head was thrown back; her hair was out of sight. Sophie turned the phone sideways to see it from a different perspective. Apart from the black dress and the blurry dark image on the ankle, which she’d assumed to be her snake tattoo, this photo could be of anyone.

  A warm sensation flushed through her. Perhaps it wasn’t her. Any amount of girls had tattoos these days, you couldn’t even see if it was a snake or not. And black dresses weren’t exactly rare. This was someone’s idea of a sick joke. Probably one of the boys taking the piss; could’ve even been Photoshopped. With new-found optimism that it was a prank, Sophie sat down on her rumpled bed and searched the original email for clues as to which of her so-called friends she could thank for frightening her half to death.

  It didn’t take long to realise she couldn’t identify the sender. The email address wasn’t a standard one. It looked ridiculously made up, certainly not one she recognised. It’d soon become obvious which of the boys had done it, though, they were incapable of keeping their mouths shut; they must be itching to send a text, Facebook message or tweet so everyone knew about their clever stunt. Oh, how funny they thought they were. Immature arseholes. It wasn’t funny at all, given the fact that Amy still hadn’t rocked up. It was getting worrying now; five thirty and still no sign. Even Amy would’ve slept off a hangover by now.

  Sophie reluctantly accessed her Facebook page. Streams of status updates, but none from Amy; none from her friends saying ‘Amy’s back’. For Christ’s sake, Amy, where the hell are you? Sophie got up, her legs leaden with fatigue, and ventured slowly downstairs. Perhaps her mother knew something by now.

  ‘Have you heard?’ Her mum’s head snappe
d up the second she entered the room.

  Sophie’s mouth dried in an instant. ‘No, what?’ Her voice cracked. Something bad has happened.

  ‘I meant, have you heard anything from Amy yet?’

  ‘Crikey, Mum.’ Sophie’s hand pressed into her chest as she let out a sharp hiss of air. ‘I thought you meant …’

  ‘Oh, no. Sorry. I spoke to Rachel just now, and she said Erin had been staying at her dad’s a lot at weekends – you didn’t tell me about Erin’s dad moving in with that woman by the way – how come?’

  ‘Mum. Get to the point.’ Sophie transferred her weight on to one leg and crossed her arms.

  ‘Right, well, I’m assuming they’re probably together – Erin and Amy – because Rachel said she hadn’t heard from Erin.’

  ‘Actually, that does make sense. Dan said everyone got to the club except Erin and Amy. Good. That will be it then.’ But saying the words didn’t reassure her. There seemed no logical reason why Amy would bother to walk to Erin’s dad’s when her own house was nearer to town. She wasn’t even convinced they would go home together. They weren’t the best of friends – Amy, being older, had come on to the scene later, after school, and had kind of replaced Erin; becoming Sophie’s new best friend. That had never sat well with Erin. But for now, it was a theory which Sophie was willing to believe.

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping, Sophie, yes. Although it doesn’t let you off the hook.’

  No. She guessed as much. Her mother would be at her every day now, trying to get to the bottom of why she had no memory of the night, why she had ended up wandering the streets alone, what the taxi driver had done to her. It was going to be a nightmare. But, as long as they were all safe – her girls – she could take whatever hassle was headed her way. It could’ve been worse.