Saving Sophie

by Sam Carrington

  Bailey’s deep growl at the window diverted their attention. His ear-grating bark filled the room. Sophie followed her mum to see what had upset him. For the second time in as many nights, there was a police car parked outside the house.

  Now what?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  DI Wade

  The brisk wind had whipped debris up, swirled it around and scattered the remains over a wide area. Even without the inclusion of the body, the scene looked as though a frenzied attack had taken place. DI Lindsay Wade surveyed the marshy land from behind the crime scene tape. The rash abandonment of burger boxes, paper, plastic bottles, leftover food; people’s rubbish, discarded without a care. An ideal place to dump a body, and first appearances suggested the young woman, too, had been discarded without a second thought. She’d been left for someone else to clear up like the remnants of a meal enjoyed, but ultimately not worthy to be taken home – not even worthy of being disposed of with consideration.

  When Lindsay had left for work nine hours ago, a murder wasn’t on her list of possible cases. In a professional capacity it could be a good opportunity to show the DCI what she was capable of. And on a personal level it would mean she could divert all her time and effort into something other than her miserable home life. She stood still, hands in trouser pockets, biting the inside of her cheek. She wanted to take in the wider area before donning the white paper suit and going in. SOCO were busying themselves with securing the scene, protecting it and the evidence which lay there. Evidence that had the power to tell the story, and lead them to her killer.

  The reports from those first on the scene, though, and the initial statement from the man who’d found her when his dog had strayed from the path, made it clear that this was the secondary crime scene. Lindsay knew the primary scene probably held the best clues – they needed to find it soon. With the vastness of this wasteland, which ran alongside the industrial park, and given the weather conditions, she had little confidence of the evidence here yielding much. As it stood, all hopes lay with the body itself.

  The day was ending, the cloudy sky darkening rapidly.

  There was at least hope of identifying the victim quickly. The description fit the missing person reported moments before she’d left for the scene. A family was soon to receive the worst news possible. When Lindsay joined the police service ten years ago she’d considered herself tough; not easily shaken – but she’d come to find that relaying news of a death was the hardest part of her job. Her stomach twisted.

  She was going to hand this girl’s family a life sentence.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Sophie

  They sat, stiff, pillar-like in the lounge. Her mum wrung her hands together. Her dad stared straight ahead, face blanched, eyes wide. Sophie cracked her knuckles. The male detective, his legs long, awkward, scribbled in a pocket-sized book as Sophie gave him details of Saturday evening. Those she could remember. The other, a female, also wrote in a notebook, but stayed silent.

  ‘I’m sorry … I’m not much use,’ she stumbled, her face flushed. ‘I can’t … I can’t really remember.’ She hung her head, didn’t make eye contact.

  ‘You were the last person to see her, by all accounts,’ the man who had introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Mack said. Her shoulders fell, folding in on themselves like collapsing cards. The last person to see her. The words hung, suspended like an accusation in the air.

  ‘Um … actually I don’t think I was.’ Sophie fumbled with her mobile, then held it up towards the detective. ‘Here, see.’ The text from Dan saying they’d lost Amy and Erin way before the club. ‘But that was after they’d put me in a taxi, so he must’ve seen her after me. And Tom. He said Amy put me in a taxi. There’s another text from him … saying that she told him about it.’ Sophie dropped her head again. Her words – practically finger-pointing, like a child not wanting to get the blame for something broken – her eagerness to ensure DS Mack didn’t think she was the last one to see Amy shocked her. This was one of her best friends they were talking about. She was missing at best. Dead at worst. Why did she feel so numb; so distanced? Amy could be dead, but she didn’t feel the horror, the devastation she imagined she should feel in this kind of situation. Why?

  ‘Hmmm.’ DS Mack’s brow furrowed. He held the phone up briefly and locked eyes with Sophie. ‘I’m going to have to take this.’ He bagged it, placing it beside him – all without breaking his gaze.

  Sophie’s face coloured. She opened her mouth to protest, but knew it was pointless so shut it again.

  ‘Could Amy have got into the taxi with you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t remember.’ It’s all she could say. All she’d been saying for the past twenty-four hours. The room fell silent, but the atmosphere was loud with tension. Sophie looked to her parents, her eyes pleading. She knew there was nothing either her mum or dad could say to help. They’d gone over the events of the night: the police bringing her home, the state she was in, her incoherent ramblings. They’d asked how come the police hadn’t thought anything was wrong then. DS Mack said there was no evidence at the time that anything untoward had happened. She was a drunken girl who’d been parted from her friends. She didn’t have any marks on her, no signs of any struggle. She didn’t tell them there had been any problem. She just appeared drunk.

  Now though, things had changed. This had developed into a serious situation. A body had been found in Coleton. One matching Amy’s description. Questions needed to be asked, answers needed to be found.

  ‘Does Liz know?’ Sophie tried to break the silence, utter anything to move this on. ‘Amy’s mum?’

  ‘She has been informed.’ DS Mack shifted position on the sofa, which seemed to have swallowed his middle, making him look like he was all head and legs. ‘Amy has yet to be formerly identified. The parents are on their way to do that now.’

  ‘Terrible … I can’t imagine …’ her dad mumbled, shaking his head. Sophie caught her mum shooting him an I told you look. She had obviously been right to be worried, right to think the worst. A chill ran through her. Murdered? How had this happened in the sleepy market town of Coleton? It wasn’t like London, that kind of thing was expected there. She’d always thought of Devon as dull and full of old people. Yes, she’d heard her mum going on about those she dealt with at work: the criminals she’d supervised, men who’d committed some terrible offences – murder, even. But not committed here. Not her home town. She knew there were nasty people, her mum had been a victim herself, but despite her harping on to Sophie about her worries that something bad had happened Saturday night, even she hadn’t uttered the word murder.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Her mum sat upright, suddenly animated. ‘If the … body … if Amy, hasn’t been identified, then it might not be her, so why—’

  ‘Until we get confirmation, it’s still a missing person case,’ DS Mack jumped in, ‘so we need to get statements from those who last saw Amy, regardless.’

  ‘Right. Okay.’ She slumped back. Sophie watched as the hope drained from her mother’s face.

  But, there was still hope. Sophie had to cling to that. It might not be Amy. She’d hold on to the optimism for as long as possible. Because the alternative was too horrific to contemplate.

  The shrill tone of Sophie’s mobile message notification cut through the room. DS Mack turned his head and picked up the plastic bag containing the phone. His eyebrows raised as he spoke: ‘You’ve got a text.’ He tilted his head, ‘From a Dan.’ He flipped through his notebook. ‘Would that be Dan Pearce by chance?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’ Her words came out sharply. Sophie noted a look passing between DS Mack and her mum. Her mum had cocked her head to one side. Sophie looked away.

  ‘His name is on our list … and he is the Dan you said may have been last to see Amy. Yes?’

  ‘Uh, yes, that’s him.’ A rushing sensation filled her ears.

  ‘Shall we take a look then, see what he has to say?’ He was already undoing t
he bag, slipping the phone out.

  ‘Clearly you’re going to anyway.’

  ‘Sophie!’ Her dad leant forwards. ‘Watch your tone.’ He flashed Sophie his angry stare.

  DS Mack struggled to stand, the sofa not ready to give him up, then handed Sophie the phone. He stood over her while she opened the text.

  Come outside.

  This wasn’t good timing. She held it up to the detective so he could see.

  ‘We’ll need to speak with him, so perhaps you could text him, tell him to come inside.’ He smiled, but stood firm. He watched as she texted.

  A few minutes passed, Dan didn’t reply. He didn’t come to the door.

  DS Mack retook the mobile from her. ‘I’ll let you go out and find him, then.’ He peered out of the front window into the duskiness beyond, then perched on the edge of the sofa. Sophie took her cue and jumped up before DS Mack changed his mind and went outside to get Dan himself.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  She’d escaped. A temporary reprieve. Her mum had begun crying, her dad pacing; she was numb. The claustrophobia had been almost too much to bear, she’d felt herself on the edge of breaking down. Outside, the coldness of the early evening air acted as a refresher, triggering a reaction, making her thighs shake, and hands tremble. She drew some deep lungfuls of breath. In … out, in … out. She’d seen her mother do this a lot for the past two years to quell her panic attacks. Was this what it felt like for her?

  Sophie sat heavily on the dwarf red-brick wall partitioning their house from the neighbour’s, waiting for Dan to show. Her street only had five other houses: two directly opposite, one either side of theirs and one at the end of the road on the corner. But, she could guarantee that each occupant was currently ogling out of their windows, trying to figure out what was going on. She was surprised that Bill, the nosey bugger from number twenty, hadn’t come across to ask – as the self-appointed Neighbourhood Watch lead he liked to know the ins and outs so he could inform the rest of Ambrook. He was going to have a field day with this.

  ‘Hey, Soph, you all right?’ Dan appeared from behind her car.

  ‘How long have you been there?’ Sophie raised herself up and went towards him.

  ‘Saw the police car. What’s going on?’ Dan’s angular face showed patchy red blotches, the way it always did when he was nervous. A flash of suspicion shot through her mind: he lived in Torquay, didn’t drive – how had he got here? And why was he hanging around outside her house?

  ‘They’re here about Amy.’ Her voice, flat.

  Dan shifted from one foot to the other, staring down at the ground. ‘She hasn’t been found then.’ It wasn’t a question.

  What should she say? That they thought they’d found her, or rather her body? Oh, and by the way, I told the copper you might have been the last one to see her alive?

  Instead, she managed: ‘The detective wants to speak to you.’

  Dan’s head snapped up. ‘Me? Why me?’

  ‘Well, you were one of the last people to see her, he wants to ask you some questions, like he’s just asked me.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’ His chest rose and fell quicker than was normal. What did he have to be concerned about? At least he had memories of Saturday night.

  ‘Nothing.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t actually remember anything. My last clear memory is at Amy’s house with everyone, drinking.’

  ‘You aren’t serious?’

  ‘Deadly.’

  ‘Are you sure? It seems … well, unlikely.’ He avoided eye contact, the tone of his voice implied he didn’t believe her.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure, Dan. But you do, so that’s all right, isn’t it.’ She shook her head. ‘Best get inside.’

  ‘I’m not coming in.’

  ‘You have to. He’s seen your text saying you wanted me to come outside, plus, he can see you through the window.’ She flung her arm up in indication. ‘I’ve already been far too long – he’ll probably be suspicious now, thinking we’re trying to get our stories straight.’

  ‘What the actual fuck, Sophie? Stories straight, why?’ He grabbed hold of both her forearms tightly.

  ‘Ow. Let go. What’s your problem? You’re acting weird.’ She spoke the words through gritted teeth. He released her and let his arms hang by his side.

  ‘I don’t like where this is going, that’s all.’ His voice was shaky.

  He was acting strangely, out of character. But then, wasn’t she? She had to admit, none of it was truly sinking in; her own reactions weren’t what she expected. It wasn’t even the worst of it yet, he was going to hate it when he found out there was a body, and they thought it was Amy. Bile burned the back of her throat. She couldn’t be the one to break that news.

  ‘Come on.’ She tilted her head towards the front door. ‘We have to do this. They’ll be talking to everyone from Saturday night, not just us.’

  Dan let out a short, sharp breath, then followed Sophie inside.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DI Wade

  DI Wade slid back the curtain, slowly, as if it could make a difference. Prevent the inevitable for a moment longer, give this couple a few more precious seconds before their lives plunged into the black hole of grief. She’d been here before. Only once during her time as DI, thankfully, but it’d burned a cavity in her consciousness, which had never been fully refilled. She could still see the small body – battered, discoloured, the skin beginning to deteriorate; the image branded on to her retinas. His killer hadn’t been found, the case now a cold one. Lindsay Wade wasn’t prepared to let it happen again.

  Standing inches away from Liz Howard, Lindsay could feel her shaking. Not a tremble, but a full-body tremor. Her husband held on to her, to stop her collapsing. A few hours ago, her daughter was merely missing. A terrible thing: the fear of what might be, the not knowing, the constant eyes peeled in the hopes of catching a glimpse. Some people went through it for years, never finding their loved ones. Did it make these parents lucky that their daughter had at least been found? They might gain an element of closure. But then, the next stage: who did this to their beautiful girl? And what if the perpetrator was never brought to justice – what kind of closure was that?

  Lindsay placed a hand on Liz’s shoulder. ‘Are you ready?’ The words seemed ridiculous even as she spoke them. How can anyone ever be ready to view a dead body – a body they are expecting to be their child? The woman and man took hold of each other’s hands, took deep breaths, and stepped closer to the window.

  Lindsay closed her eyes, not able to watch their pain. She waited for the scream she knew was coming.

  A brief, sharp wail emitted from Liz’s open mouth before the man lost his grip and she slumped to the floor.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Karen

  Dan’s story may have come across as solid to DS Mack – Karen, though, was unconvinced. The whole taxi episode sounded weak, far too vague, as if he were speaking lines by rote. The same story the others had stuck to: Amy and Erin put Sophie in a taxi outside the White Hart. The exact same words. But had any of them actually seen this? Or were they only going on what Amy had supposedly told them? Conveniently, there was no CCTV covering that area, a fact DS Mack had reiterated as he scribbled notes in his pad.

  But, perhaps she shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. Her thoughts should be with Amy – and poor Liz. Her own gut-wrenching reaction to seeing Sophie in such a state, thinking something bad had happened to her, paled into insignificance compared to what Liz must be experiencing at this moment. She’d sounded relatively calm when Karen’d first spoken to her, convinced Amy would show up and that they’d all laugh about it afterwards. Now it was nothing to laugh about. Karen had only known Liz as long as Sophie’d known Amy, hadn’t even met her in person – all communication had been via phone calls and texting. She’d no idea how she and Nathan would cope, or what support they had to help them through this.

  When DS Mack left, he handed Karen a card, said to contact him
should she or Sophie have anything to add. Now, standing in the kitchen, she absently flipped the card over and over. It was unlikely they’d require it. What more could they say? Sophie hadn’t been able to recall any more of Saturday evening, and Dan had offered no more than what had already been noted from his texts to Sophie. She held the card on to the cork message board and jammed a bright red pin through its centre. How were the police going to piece any of this together – to make sense of Amy’s last known movements?

  Last known movements. Karen’s skin tingled as it turned to gooseflesh. She ran her hand up and down her arm to brush away the bumps. Her eyes stung as fresh tears threatened.

  ‘You okay?’ Mike came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘What do you think?’ She shrugged his hand off.

  ‘I’ll make a coffee.’

  ‘Not for me. Don’t need any extra reasons to stay awake tonight.’

  ‘Tablets not helping?’ This was the first time he’d referred to her medication. He’d never asked a single question about them before.

  ‘They aren’t sleeping tablets,’ Karen shouted. ‘They’re to help with bloody anxiety. Anxiety, Mike. Not murder.’ She retreated out of the kitchen, leaving Mike with a stunned expression on his face.

  Idiot. Two years she’d been taking them, and he didn’t even know what they were for? Why did she bother? Karen lay on the bed, staring at the darkening sky through the skylight. She hated the skylight. His idea to have it put in – to make the room more airy, seem bigger than its actual ten by ten foot size. In reality, all it did was annoy her: letting the sun spill in too early in the morning, which woke her up, and the moonlight send in shards of ghostly white at night when she wanted to sleep. She’d asked for a blind. It still hadn’t materialised.

  Distant whispers penetrated her thoughts. After DS Mack had left, Sophie and Dan shut themselves away in Sophie’s bedroom, much to Mike’s displeasure. She wondered what they were saying. Were they trying to recap the events leading up to Amy’s disappearance? Was Dan consoling Sophie, offering a friendly shoulder as she might have just lost her best friend? Karen couldn’t, didn’t, want to contemplate it. If this were Rachel missing, or dead, how would she be coping? Rachel was a permanent fixture in Karen’s life, had been since they were three years old, when their mothers, themselves inseparable friends, had walked them to playschool together. They’d had times of separation, both going to different secondary schools, colleges, but they’d always gravitated back to one another. And then they both fell pregnant at the same time, having Sophie and Erin just weeks apart – the same as their mothers. Three generations. Now, even if they didn’t talk for weeks, they knew they were always there for each other when it counted.