Saving Sophie: A compulsively twisty psychological thriller that will keep you gripped to the very last page. Sam Carrington
her banging brain and the stressful events that morning, she smiled. She tapped a reply.
Not great, hun. What happened last night?
She waited, watching the screen, praying for him to give an answer to end this mystery.
You were well wasted, love. You wanted to go home after just 2 pubs! Light weight ;-) xx
Okay, now she was getting somewhere. If she’d wanted to go home, then she must’ve felt terrible. She knew her limits, and when she surpassed them, she always left – went home. Always. So, she had got in a taxi, like Tom had said. This threw up new, more difficult questions. Questions she didn’t want to face at the moment. Shit. Her mum would have a field day. She’d be on to the police, making accusations about the taxi driver. It was inevitable; her job had made her believe the worst of everyone.
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.
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
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