S is for Stranger: the gripping psychological thriller you don’t want to miss!. Louise Stone
my throat; dry as parchment paper.
‘Amy!’ I called out, my voice drowning in the hubbub of the fair.
I attempted to control my shaking hand as I scrolled through the phone menu looking for Paul’s name. It went straight through to voicemail. I tried again. My eyes darted left and right searching for any sign of Amy’s pink duffle coat or strawberry blonde hair. She had vanished. I prayed to god she had found her way back to her father. It didn’t seem possible: I had taken my eyes off her for less than thirty seconds. I wanted to scream at the woman staring at me as she passed by with a pushchair and her young son hanging onto the handle, I wanted to shout at the man who had just dug his elbow into his friend’s side and nodded in my direction. They both walked off laughing. Thirty seconds. Where had she gone in thirty seconds?
Paul eventually picked up.
‘Sophie?’
‘I can’t find her, I can’t find Amy,’ I shouted over the mounting noise. ‘Is she with you?’ A moan escaped my throat. I pushed the phone up against my ear in an effort to drown out the arcade games and music.
‘What do you mean you can’t find her?’
‘She was here,’ I said. ‘Oh god, oh god …’ My face crumpled. Large tears landed on my lips, I licked them away and wiped my nose on the back of my sleeve. ‘Where are you?’
‘At home,’ he answered.
‘Home?’ I shouted. How much time had passed? My mind felt a familiar fuzziness, the same sensation warning me of the onset of a panic attack. My body telling me I was in danger. ‘What are you doing there?’
‘Where are you?’
‘What do you mean, where am I?’ I shouted, throwing my free arm into the air. ‘I thought I was with you! At the fairground!’
The phone line went silent.
‘Sophie, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t at a fairground with you today.’
I felt cold, shaking furiously; DI Ward said it was the shock and advised me to do my coat up, wrap my scarf tightly around my neck. But I couldn’t warm up. An icy, hard dread sat in the pit of my stomach and I knew that, until I found Amy, it wouldn’t go away. I dabbed pointlessly at my eyes with tissues but they were disintegrating after two hours of constant use; white bits fell to the floor. I wondered if tears could run out. At this point, it didn’t seem that they could. Whenever I managed to slow my breathing and try to focus on what was being asked of me, I thought the tears might have stopped but then, in a heartbeat, I’d remember and fresh tears would spring up.
‘Here.’ DI Ward handed me a new one. ‘It’s clean,’ she assured me.
‘What happens now?’
The detective surveyed the scene, taking in the chaos of the fairground. I was trying not to get my hopes up but, surely, with an active search party on the lookout, our chances of finding Amy had just gone up ten-fold?
DI Ward gazed at me, her brown eyes steady. She put a hand on my arm. The gesture lacked warmth and made my skin crawl with goose bumps. ‘We start at the beginning. Tell me what happened.’
‘I should’ve, you know. I should’ve kept a closer eye on her.’ My words were coming out all garbled and I stopped, took a deep breath, and started again. ‘When I couldn’t see her, I thought maybe she had just wandered off. But, I knew in my heart, she doesn’t do that. She’s such a good child.’ I blew my nose. ‘We had just been chatting, you know?’
‘Have you told the missing persons tent?’
I shook my head, my gaze shifted downward. She quickly removed her arm and started walking in that direction. I got the impression the no-nonsense detective was finding it hard to deal with my tears.
‘No,’ I said lamely, jogging to catch up with her. It hadn’t even entered my head.
‘Well, Ms Fraiser, it’s always a good place to start. Amy might have headed there herself.’
‘Right,’ I said, a woman reprimanded.
DI Ward led me over to the marquee and addressed the nearest official, a tall girl of no more than nineteen kitted out in jeans and trainers.
She flashed her ID. ‘This lady’s little girl is missing. Can you put a call out?’ She looked at me. ‘Ms Fraiser, tell her what you know. Where you last saw her.’
‘So how old is your daughter?’ the girl prompted me. ‘Why don’t you tell me what she was wearing?’
‘Ms Fraiser, the quicker we act, often the better the result,’ DI Ward urged.
I went to speak but my body had shut down. Inside I was screaming: I shouldn’t be having this conversation. This kind of thing happens on film sets, not in real life. Why was everyone acting so goddamn calm and rational? They wanted me to think straight; but my brain was a fug of emotions and every fibre of my being so taut, I thought I might snap right in half.
The tears had started to flow again and the detective spoke more softly this time. ‘Ms Fraiser, we all want to find your daughter. You’re going to have to help us out here. What was Amy wearing?’
I dabbed my nose and eyes before filling the girl in on the details. DI Ward thanked the girl and took me to one side.
‘So, I need to ask, your daughter, Amy, is she at risk? For example, does she suffer from any medical conditions?’
‘No, she hasn’t got any medical conditions.’ I leant heavily against one of the marquee’s poles and just as quickly straightened up. ‘Course she’s at bloody risk, she’s missing!’ I shoved my shoulders back. ‘I saw someone talking to Amy earlier. A woman.’ She nodded. ‘She was wearing a black coat and I think she might have bribed her with a lolly.’
‘How do you know she gave her a lolly?’
‘She had one in her hand.’
‘So you spoke to Amy after her meeting with this woman?’
‘Yes, I saw her talking to her and ran in Amy’s direction. When I did find Amy, the woman had gone.’ I paused. ‘But …’
‘But what?’ She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
‘Amy told me she hadn’t spoken to anyone.’
‘And you’re sure she had definitely spoken with a woman?’
I squinted at her. ‘Yes, I’m not delusional.’ But even as I spoke, the fuzziness started up, the tingling at my temples. Had I imagined it? ‘I have this feeling I know this woman.’ I looked up. ‘I think she’s come back for me.’
I held my head in my hands, willing the tingling to go away. I couldn’t have a panic attack now and not after all this time; what if the court found out? Why would they hand me my child if the attacks were back?
‘Who, Ms Fraiser?’ When I didn’t answer she said, ‘Are you feeling OK?’
I looked at her, terrified that the attack would get worse. My hands were trembling, the grass was shifting in front of me. I rammed my hands into my hair and dug my nails into my scalp, willing myself not to black out. The ringing was intensifying in my ears and I could hear my shallow breathing. I needed to control it.
The detective was behind me now, her hand on my back. ‘I’ll get help.’
‘No,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll be fine. Can you just get me a glass of water?’
She looked at me intently for a moment and nodded before walking off. As soon as she had left I forced my shoulders back and exhaled and inhaled loudly until the ground started to come