Saving Sophie: A compulsively twisty psychological thriller that will keep you gripped to the very last page. Sam Carrington
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.
A pang of guilt shot through her. She hadn’t been there for Rachel when her ex moved in with the new woman though, had she? She’d allowed that one to go right on past her, not noticing, not feeling the latest traumatic event in Rachel’s life. She’d have to try to make up for that slip. Rachel had been there for Karen in the past. Particularly after the attack.
A shriek ripped through the room, causing acid to rise immediately into her mouth. She shot up. Her heart bashed an erratic rhythm, filling her ears as she ran to Sophie’s room and whacked the door open, crashing it into the wall behind.
‘What? What the hell is it?’
‘It’s. Not. Her … It’s not her.’ The words, spoken between shallow gasps. Tears rolled freely. Tears of relief?
‘Are you sure?’ DI Wade turned to Mr Howard for confirmation. He nodded his head, a thin smile evident as he helped Liz to her feet.
‘I’m sorry to have put you through this … The description was so close to your daughter.’ She offered up her arm, assisted her to the low seats in the viewing area. ‘Are you okay?’
Liz pulled another tissue from her coat pocket and wiped at her nose. ‘Yes. Yeah, I’ll be all right.’ Her face crumpled again. She looked up into her husband’s face. ‘Where is Amy?’ She grasped hold of his sleeve. ‘Where’s our Amy, Nathan?’
‘Mr and Mrs Howard, the police are conducting a missing person investigation. I’ll inform them straight away and the search will continue, now an ID hasn’t been made. We’ll find her.’ As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. It was as good as a promise, one she couldn’t be sure she’d keep. The look on Liz’s face stopped DI Wade in her tracks. Despite the relief, there remained a pained expression: sad, upset.
Liz’s eyes settled slowly on hers. ‘It’s not Amy—’
‘I know, that’s good, Mrs Howard—’
‘No. It’s not Amy.’ She used the tissue to swipe away fresh tears. ‘But I do know who it is.’
Karen searched their faces. They were smiling.
‘What? What’s happened?’ Her throat was tight, her voice squeezed through.
‘It’s okay, it’s all okay now.’ Sophie and Dan hugged each other, then Sophie pulled away from him, looking up to Karen. ‘It’s not her, Mum. The body they found, it’s not Amy.’
‘How do you know?’
‘She’s just texted. Show her, Dan.’ Dan held up his mobile in a shaky hand. Karen snatched it and read the group text: Sorry about all the fuss. Bumped into Jonathan and ended up at an all-night party. Been sleeping all day. AM SAFE!
‘How can you be sure it’s her? Ring her. Ring her now, Sophie, please.’
‘Of course it’s her,’ Sophie scrunched her face into a don’t be so stupid look Karen didn’t appreciate.
‘What if the murderer has her phone and it’s him texting?’
Sophie looked at her witheringly. ‘It’s not a film, Mum.’
Karen wasn’t reassured. A body had been found. Murdered. A film was exactly what this felt like.
‘Just do as I ask, please.’ She held out the mobile to Dan.
Dan took it, and pressed the screen. ‘Sure, Mrs Finch, I’ll give her a call.’
A few moments of heart-in-the-mouth tension passed before Dan spoke. To Amy.
Karen put her hand to her forehead. Her relief came in the form of an instant headache.
‘Good, I’m so pleased this is over. I’m going for a lie-down.’
Sophie and Dan, already in conversation about the events, didn’t even notice Karen leave the room. She went downstairs first, to inform Mike of Amy’s contact. He seemed as relieved as she did. Perhaps now things could get back to normal. Her kind of normal at least. She climbed the stairs, heavy legs making the fourteen steps seem more, then collapsed back on the bed. The anxiety of the weekend had taken its toll; she felt exhausted, mentally and physically.
Apart from the time of her own attack, this had been the longest weekend she could remember. The edges of the room blurred, so she closed her eyes. She wasn’t particularly religious, but now, lying on her back with her eyes shut, she put her hands together in silent prayer and thanked God for Amy being safe. She also prayed for the parents of the girl who had been murdered.
Although one family was now released from the grip of anguish, another was about to be condemned to it. They shouldn’t forget that.
My Beautiful,
I simply can’t wait to meet you, I’m craving you beyond measure! How can I be so lucky as to have you – although not in the physical sense – I have you in mind and soul, I guess the body part will have to wait? But not too long I hope. Please can it be soon? I want to be able to hold you in my arms, breathe in your delicious smell, be with you. Inside you. That moment when our bodies become one, I cannot tell you how much I want you. I feel as though we’ve known each other for years.
I know you feel the same. Email back as soon as you can, I’m here. Waiting.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Monday
‘Erin is dead.’
The cry had shredded her eardrums. The words replayed on a loop. It’s all Karen had thought about during the night. The relief of Amy being found: brief, temporary, now replaced with a new horror. The victim wasn’t Sophie’s best friend; it was Karen’s best friend’s daughter. Sophie’s friend since birth.
The call, late last night, traumatic in its entirety, had left Karen numb. Rachel’s response following the outspill of those agonising words: It was Erin, had been one of shocked silence. Karen had been unable to think of a single comforting phrase to fill the void, had only repeated the words I’m so