S is for Stranger (22 page)

The phone buzzed at me, indicating it had twenty per cent battery remaining.

Quicker now, I plucked out each article, skim reading the titles.
West London mother despairs as child goes missing at fairground; Fairgrounds no longer safe.
I reached the end of those articles and read other irrelevant articles taken from what looked like health magazines:
Mental health: more important than physical health; Dealing with depression; Jealousy: is it tearing you apart?

The phone beeped this time: the battery sign flashing. The light caught the edge of another box and I ripped this one open. Time wasn’t on my side and I had to work fast. Shining the fading light into the next box, my breathing uneven, I spotted a bible and magazines cut to shreds. Opening the bible, alarm ripped through my body. The page, clearly well thumbed, was coming away from the binding. Inside, somebody had scrawled over the actual text:
To Love is to Protect.
They had crossed this out and alongside it written:
Kill.

Seconds later, the phone died.

CHAPTER 25

I decided it was time to confront Paul. He needed to come clean. The drive from Holland Park to Hammersmith took less than twenty minutes. Soon, I was outside the large red-brick Victorian house: this place held so many memories – good and bad – for me. We had chosen the house together; shortly after we found out I was pregnant with Amy. Money had never been an issue. Paul had his security company, I was being paid extraordinarily well for a lawyer in her early thirties. I realised now, with open eyes, that my more than generous salary was probably all part of Zander’s therapy and his grieving process.

The house overlooked the river and, as I climbed out of the car, I remembered the parties we would hold in the garden, particularly the boat party. Every year, during the Oxford versus Cambridge Boat Race, we would entertain in style. A pang of regret at the way everything had turned out momentarily wrenched my heart. That was then, this was now. I knew that. But remorse sat heavily on my shoulders as I looked out at the river. Perhaps I was being nostalgic. After all, it was clear from the very fact that I was here to question my ex-husband, that the past held many dark secrets and that these happier times I remembered weren’t the whole picture.

I walked up the path to Paul’s front door and rang the doorbell. Less than a week ago, I had stood on the
very same doorstep, with the detective, waiting with trepidation for what was to come. I could hear Paul’s steps on the floor and he opened the door a crack, the chain still across.

‘Sophie!’ He almost looked relieved. ‘I thought you had done something stupid to yourself.’

‘Paul.’ A gust of warmth escaped the house and rushed around my ankles. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Um, I’m not sure …’

‘Paul. Is it because of Sarah? I’m not here to cause grief, I just need answers.’

He sighed deeply. ‘OK. She’s not here anyway. She’s away on business.’

He pulled open the door and I stepped into the hall. Under the spotlights, I almost didn’t recognise him. His eyes were totally shrunken, he couldn’t have shaved for a few days now – perhaps Monday, when I last saw him – but, more alarmingly, he stank of alcohol.

‘Have you been drinking?’

He wobbled slightly on the spot. ‘Don’t think you can talk to me about drinking.’

I pulled a face. ‘No, probably not. You told me weak people drink in a crisis.’

‘Did I?’ he slurred and tipped ever so slightly my way.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh. Well.’ He walked off now, in the direction of the sitting room. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’ He sat in an armchair. I noted the tumbler of vodka next to him. What I would have done to have a drink too. ‘Didn’t know if you’d ever come back.’

‘Come back?’ I sat on the ottoman by the window. ‘I’m looking for our daughter, once I find her, I’m coming back.’ I stopped, aware of what I had just said. ‘I mean normal life will resume.’

‘That’s right,’ he slurred. A small trickle of saliva dribbled down his chin and I tensed. ‘Because you are loved-up with that man now, aren’t you?’

‘What would you care if I was, anyway?’ Realising he meant Oliver.

He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘Nice.’

‘Anyway, would you?’

‘Would I what?’

‘Come back?’

‘Here?’ I laughed. ‘Are you serious? After …’ He gazed at me steadily. ‘No. No, I wouldn’t.’

‘Just as I thought.’ He picked up the tumbler and downed the remaining liquid.

‘I know this is a bit rich coming from me, but it’s not going to help you know.’ I nodded at the glass.

‘S’pose not.’ He closed his eyes and, seeing that I might lose him to a drunken slumber, I rose from the ottoman. ‘What do you want, anyway?’ His eyes shot open.

‘Our daughter.’ I stood a couple of paces from the armchair, directly in front of him. ‘I have until 4 pm this afternoon to find our daughter. You know where she is. I need you to tell me.’

‘I don’t know, Sophie.’

‘I know about the house in Holland Park. I’ve just come from there. Who is she? This woman? I need to know where this woman’s taken her.’

He bit his bottom lip and shifted in the chair.

‘Will she kill Amy? Why does she hate me so much?’ I felt like shaking him: ridding him of his drunken stupor and his lies. ‘Tell me.’

‘I don’t know anything.’

‘Paul,’ I said, ‘you know if our daughter dies, you will go to prison.’

‘For what? You have our daughter.’

‘But do you want our daughter’s blood on your hands? Just tell me where to find her.’

He leant forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘Shit.’

‘Come on, Paul,’ I coaxed. ‘Is she listening now? Is this place bugged?’ I turned a full circle, before my gaze came to rest on Paul again. ‘I don’t even care any more! What is she going to do? Kill me? I’d prefer she killed me and not our daughter.’ I laughed hysterically now. ‘I mean, it doesn’t matter any more … Before, I was scared, but now I don’t care. She clearly wants me dead. Like she wanted Bethany dead.’ My voice trailed off, my last words hung over the room like a sticky sap falling from a tree on a muggy, thundery day. ‘She’s jealous, bitter and twisted.’

Paul’s face was wet with tears. ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’ He paused. ‘You showed up last Saturday with that detective and tell me our daughter’s missing. Now you’re going on about some woman who killed Bethany and now has Amy. And this woman wants you dead because she’s jealous of you? Or something?’ He was ranting aloud now; his thoughts making little sense.

I didn’t know what to say, fearing my response might make him clam up even more. It was a tough one to call. ‘Paul, you might not …’ My tongue combed the roof of my mouth. ‘You know, the court might understand that this was not your choice, this was under duress.’

He nodded. ‘The court. Who cares about the court right now? Our daughter is missing.’

I nearly laughed. ‘Who cares? You do! That’s why you’re lying, you want to make me look bad, get custody of Amy. You’re working with this woman.’

‘You’ve gone mad.’ He was quietly seething now, his fists clenching and unclenching.

I pitied him in that moment. He spoke as though he was innocent, like I was the one who had caused all this. ‘Paul, you’re making out I’m mad. I’ve done nothing wrong.’ I walked toward him now. ‘Will you come with me? Help me find Amy? Tell me where she is. Who has her?’

With so many questions, he looked like a rabbit in headlights, unable to decide which way to move. ‘You …’

‘Paul. Please.’ I bent down, took him in my arms now and felt his body relax next to mine. His shoulders bounced up and down as he sobbed. ‘Is it just her? Is she working alone?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’

I swallowed hard, determined to get some information out of him. ‘OK, if it’s just one woman, surely she can’t have this much hold over you.’

He buried his head in my shoulder, the stale smell of alcohol played on my already jagged nerves. ‘Sophie, please stop.’

‘Paul,’ I whispered soothingly. ‘Where is she going? Where is she taking Amy?’

‘You need help.’ He whimpered in my ear. ‘Please get help.’

‘Paul, I don’t. You do.’ I spoke even more softly. ‘Do you think your house is bugged?’

‘This could all be over so quickly if you were honest with yourself, Sophie.’

I was growing panicky with frustration. ‘Do you believe that?’ I stepped away from him now, holding him at arm’s length. ‘Paul. Our daughter is in danger. Forget us. Forget what’s happened with us. That’s in the past.’ Tiredness took a hold of me as I realised he would never give me the truth. I didn’t know why he was lying, maybe I never would. For the moment, it looked as if Paul was set on keeping it a secret and I had to keep running, chasing my own tail.
I sat down weightily on the sofa. ‘OK, fine, you win. I can’t keep asking. I’ll just have to …’ I stopped talking.

Paul whispered something, barely audible. I leant forward to catch it again but he didn’t repeat it.

‘Sorry, Paul, what did you say?’

‘Only you know where she is.’

‘What exactly does that mean?’

‘Isn’t that why you’ve been having those sessions with Darren? You’ve got some crazy idea that Bethany’s killer has Amy? Well, what have those sessions told you? Anything?’ He stared hard at the floor. ‘Just bring our daughter back.’

He was right: it was time to go to Aberystwyth. My watch read seven o’clock in the morning. Daylight crawled in around the edges of the curtains and, now that I thought about it, I could hear the traffic out on the main road. It would take me at least five hours to get there and then I had to find out where the house had been.

CHAPTER 26

After a sluggish start through the knotty build-up of London traffic, I joined the M4 motorway. I put my foot down where I could but, approaching the second Severn Bridge, I was forced to slow. Memories spun through my mind as the traffic crawled across the bridge and I entered Wales. Then it was as if the closer I drove to where it all began, the memories became painfully clear.

I phoned Darren, put him on speakerphone.

‘Sophie.’ He sounded wary.

‘Are they there?’

‘Yes, they’re listening.’

My stomach dropped, and I took a deep breath.

‘OK, you have to believe me. The woman who has taken my daughter killed my friend, I’m sure of it.’

I heard a chair scrape in the background; imagined DI Ward getting up, them trying to trace my call.

‘I think she’s taken Amy to Aberystwyth, to a large house nearby.’

‘OK,’ Darren said slowly. ‘Sophie, are you OK? You sound agitated.’

‘Of course I’m agitated. I’m looking for my child. Do you want to help me or not?’

‘Yes,’ he said quickly and I imagined DI Ward nodding her head vigorously in the background. She didn’t want to lose this call: her only contact with me.

‘You know the evening I told you about before. Well, I remember the diplomat inviting us in. Bethany was angry with me. She hadn’t wanted to go.’

‘But you made her?’

‘Yes, I made her. I wanted to have fun. She was always out, without me. I wanted to have what I deserved.’

‘Which is?’

I looked out at the expanse of Welsh hills and suddenly felt so vulnerable. ‘I deserved to spend time with people I loved and I loved her, like family.’ I swallowed. ‘It was
our
thing, you know?’

‘OK, go on. Do you remember anything about the house?’

‘It’s near a cliff face, I told you that already. There were loads of rooms, like it was an old hotel. Not used any more.’

‘What happened then?’ Darren sounded exhausted.

‘The diplomat told us to behave. There were five men sat in a semi-circle on a bed. They weren’t that interested in us when we first went in the room.’

I stopped, waited for Darren to signal I should continue.

‘Go on, Sophie.’

‘They were drinking whisky, playing cards. Then this one guy did a couple of lines of coke. Bethany took some and then I did.’

‘I thought you didn’t do those sorts of drugs.’

‘I did on this occasion. I needed to.’

‘How did you know what to do?’ Darren asked.

I cleared my throat, indicated and changed lane. ‘OK, I might have done it a couple of other times.’

‘Then what?’

‘Then I drank whisky and I remember they handcuffed Bethany to the bed.’

‘Was this agreed before you girls did this?’

‘No.’

‘Then you must have been scared?’

‘I was.’ I paused. ‘Until I realised Bethany was in her element. She loved it.’

‘How did that make you feel about Bethany?’

‘Resentful.’

‘Why?’

‘She looked in control, I felt like I was floundering.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘A woman was in the room. This is where my memory is so muddled.’

I heard a chair scrape again. I didn’t care if they were listening any more. I was closer to finding Amy than I had been over the last few days. I could feel it.

‘A woman let herself into the room?’

‘Yeah, I guess. I don’t know because all I remember is a gun going off and Bethany’s head bouncing backward.’

Darren’s breathing had grown shallower. I imagined him listening, perched on the edge of his seat. DI Ward looking at him, nodding.

‘Anything else, Sophie?’

‘I remember Bethany looking at her killer and she seemed to know her.’

The ringing had started up in my ears again and I could feel my muscles weakening. I knew I needed to end the call and pull over before I had another attack. I indicated I was moving over to the side. I slammed on my hazards and held my head in my hands, willing my breathing to slow, and slowly, ever so slowly, the ringing sound disappeared.

DI Ward came on the line. ‘Sophie,’ she started, ‘we need you to tell us exactly where you are. Your safety is our priority.’

I looked at my phone and cut the call.

Reaching down into the side pocket, I felt around for a pair of sunglasses, plucking out the contents and dumping
them in my lap. A quick glance downward confirmed that Faye, like me, didn’t keep spare sunglasses in her car or, for that matter, anything of use: a screwed-up chewing gum packet, pen and a small torch. The petrol gauge displayed almost empty and, spotting a sign for Magor services, I moved over to the left hand lane and came off.