S is for Stranger

by Louise Stone

  ‘What do you do?’

  ‘I’m falling. Falling.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To the ground.’

  ‘Anything else, Sophie? What does “To love is to protect” mean, Sophie?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘Try, dig deeper, let your mind go.’

  ‘The woman, she kept saying it, the woman who killed Bethany.’

  ‘So, the bracelet belongs to the killer?’

  ‘Yes. No … I don’t know! I thought it was Bethany’s. Maybe the killer knew about the bracelet.’

  I sat bolt upright, a shadowy, forgotten memory attempting to push its way to the forefront of my mind.

  ‘Sophie,’ Darren was by my side now, ‘are you OK? Here’s a tissue.’

  I hadn’t even realised I was crying. Hot, furious tears cascaded down my cheeks. ‘I feel like the answer is so obvious. Just then … I almost remembered something, something that I know is so important. But, just like that, the thought had disappeared.’

  Darren nodded gravely. ‘I can understand that. Your mind automatically shuts out pain, grief, anxiety and in order to remember, you need to open your mind even further.’

  I blinked. ‘How do I do that?’

  ‘The only way,’ he took my hand, ‘is to face your fears.’

  ‘You make it sound so easy.’ I withdrew my hand and twisted the tissue round and round into a tight knot.

  ‘It’s not easy. But your greatest fear is also your greatest strength.’

  I smiled weakly. ‘That’s deep.’

  He patted me on the hand. ‘Your greatest fear is losing your daughter?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes, feeling like I know the woman who killed Bethany. How I can get so close to remembering.’

  Darren considered this for a minute. ‘Well, maybe until you allow your mind to face the fear of finding out exactly that, we won’t be able to go any further.’

  I was about to ask him how I go about getting over that fear when Darren’s phone rang. He looked at me, his eyes not leaving mine as he answered.

  ‘Yes, OK,’ he said to the caller. ‘Yes.’

  The one-word answers and I knew who he was talking to: the police. I ran for the door and out onto the street. I didn’t look back once.

  CHAPTER 21

  Without a mobile, I couldn’t ring Jia. By now, she might have more information on Bethany; moreover, she might have something on her father. I knew she’d be unhappy if I just turned up on her doorstep but, without a phone, I couldn’t think of another way of contacting her.

  Two buses later, I was in Soho. It was rush hour: agency workers and media types spilt out onto the roads and into the nearest bars and restaurants. I crossed Shaftesbury Avenue, walked under the gateway to Chinatown, and headed for Jia’s workplace. She lived in an amazing apartment with panoramic views of the city, but worked out of a bedsit in Chinatown. In her line of work, finding out information that most people could never legally get a hold of, she felt safer hidden away.

  I walked down the steep steps leading to the basement and knocked twice in rapid succession, followed by a pause, and then twice again.

  The door opened a crack. ‘Sophie.’

  I could just make out a sliver of her face. ‘My phone is broken,’ I explained.

  ‘Come in.’

  I shuffled through the small opening and Jia shut the door directly, pulled the chain across and double bolted it.

  ‘Had some problems recently,’ she said in her Chinese-London twang.

  ‘I know you prefer to do business via the phone but, as I say, my phone was broken and …’

  She looked at me and grinned. ‘I’ve just got to be careful, you know how it is, but I’m glad you came.’ She came over and hugged me tight. ‘How you doing, Sophie?’

  I struggled to find the words and she gestured for me to sit. ‘I’m … I’m … I just want her back.’ I wiped away tears with the back of my hand. ‘There’s so much going on, stuff I can’t tell anyone. Things no one can understand. But the woman who’s got her …’

  ‘You know who’s got Amy?’ Jia sat beside me, rubbing my back with her hand.

  ‘Not exactly but I think it’s related to something that happened years ago. I just have to figure out who’s behind it and why my ex-husband is involved.’

  ‘Paul? Really?’ She stood up, started busying herself with the kettle.

  ‘Really.’ There wasn’t enough time to bring her up to speed on the session with Darren. ‘Jia, did you find anything out about Bethany? I can’t stay long but if you have something, anything, I need to know.’

  ‘Coffee?’

  I shook my head. ‘I really need to get going.’

  She abandoned the kettle and sat down.

  When she didn’t speak, I pressed her. ‘Jia.’

  ‘OK, but I believe you might think I’m a liar.’

  ‘What do you mean? Please, Jia, tell me.’ I caught her eye. ‘I have twenty-four hours to find Amy or she will be killed.’

  Jia nodded slowly, her gaze cast downward at the pile of papers on the coffee table. She picked up a pencil and studied my face.

  ‘Bethany is an illegitimate child.’

  I jerked my head backward. ‘What? She never talked about her family but I didn’t think it was because of something like this.’

  ‘There’s more.’

  I looked at Jia, my eyes imploring. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘You’ve met your friend Bethany’s mother?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, a few times but only briefly and I never met her father. She didn’t like talking about him. I think she was ashamed of the money he pushed her way but, also, she acted as if he suffocated her.’ I thought back to the bracelet: To Love is to Protect. Suddenly the engraving made sense. Were they the words of a man who, perhaps, hadn’t known that love – too much love – could push someone away, not bring them closer? That Bethany wouldn’t have entered that house if it hadn’t been for her desperate need to prove something to herself; some sort of independence.

  ‘As I say, she was born out of wedlock.’ Jia sat upright, the lamp behind her creating a kind of halo effect: like she was about to deliver some great truth to me.

  ‘Jia, please.’ I reached inside my bag to retrieve my wallet. Taking out two fifty-pound notes, I placed them on the desk.

  ‘Bethany’s father is Zander Thompson.’

  ‘Zander?’ I gasped and gave a small shake to my head. ‘But he’s my boss. How can he be my best friend’s father?’ My hand went up to my mouth as I tried to take it in. ‘My dead best friend’s father.’ I looked at her, uncomprehending. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I know. When I got hold of her birth certificate, I couldn’t believe it either. At first, I thought it was no one of importance but I looked into his background and made the connection. That’s when I found out, he owns the firm you work for.’

  My head was spinning: I wanted the world to right itself but, instead, I was discovering that those people I knew, those people I could trust, were involved in a web of lies. A web so sticky, so tangled, I was in mortal danger of being dragged into its very centre and left flailing.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  It was time to leave. We stood and she hugged me at the door before releasing the lock. I walked up the stairs, my eyes squinting against the bright daylight and heard the door slam behind me.

  I needed answers: it was time to find a phone and a computer. Once on Shaftesbury Avenue, it was easy to signal a cab.

  ‘Hampstead Heath, please.’ I climbed into the back, grateful for the dark quiet space to think. I needed somewhere safe and Faye’s house was as close to that as was possible at this time.

  It wasn’t until I went to pay the driver, I realised Jia had tucked the fifty-pound notes back into my bag.

  Within minutes, Faye had taken my coat, sat me down and put the kettle on. She had a tea towel in her hands which she kep
t folding this way and that.

  ‘Sophie, why didn’t you contact me sooner? I’ve been worried sick.’ As soon as the kettle had boiled, she put the towel down. ‘Tea?’

  I nodded. ‘Please.’

  ‘I noticed you weren’t at the press conference yesterday. I saw it on the news. Paul was there but you weren’t. That’s when I knew something was wrong.’ She paused. ‘Then that female detective turned up on my doorstep an hour later.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  She cocked her head and poured the boiling water into mugs, her hand visibly trembling. ‘She said your Family Liaison Officer couldn’t find you. Did I know where you were?’ She cleared her throat. ‘I said no. Which was the truth but it got me thinking.’

  She had her back to me now and I could see her shoulders quivering gently. I rose from the chair and came up behind her, putting my hand on her shoulder. She turned, her face wet with tears.

  ‘Aw, Faye. I’m truly sorry.’

  She sniffed. ‘I was just worried, you know? You’re like a daughter to me and I thought, at first, I thought …’ She fished out a hankie from inside her cardigan sleeve. ‘I thought you might have done something stupid.’

  ‘Stupid?’ I nodded: the realisation of what she was saying dawned on me. ‘Kill myself?’

  She grimaced at my blunt wording. ‘Yes.’

  My heart twisted with guilt. How could I put the one person who understood me so well through this?

  ‘Faye, it’s fine. I’m fine.’

  ‘Sophie, it’s just you know and I know that there are two sides to you. That things haven’t always been easy.’

  ‘I’m trying to find Amy myself.’ I nodded with a false confidence. ‘I think the woman who has Amy killed Bethany. She’s come back to find me.’ I knew, for Faye’s sake, I needed to keep the details brief.

  Faye cupped my chin in her hand, her skin crepe-like and clammy. ‘Are you in danger?’ I didn’t speak. ‘You must be careful. Please.’ She turned now, her movements awkward. ‘You think this person has Amy?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure.’ I took the mug from her. ‘Faye, do you mind if I use your computer and phone.’

  Relief passed over her face. ‘Of course, what else can I do?’ She needed to feel useful.

  ‘I’d love to stay the night too. If that’s OK.’

  ‘My goodness,’ she smiled now, ‘of course it is. You are always welcome here, you know that. I’ll make you a good supper too. Get your strength up. I don’t think you know how thin you’ve got.’

  I gave a small smile. ‘It’s certainly one way to diet, but I wouldn’t recommend it.’

  ‘Just like your mother … You don’t know your own beauty, darling Sophie. Inside and out.’

  She told me to use the spare room: she had put fresh bedding on in case I turned up.

  ‘And you know where the computer and phone are. Help yourself.’

  I nodded gratefully. ‘Did the detective mention anything about that night?’

  ‘She asked if I knew anything about it or the time you spent in the Priory. She was on her way to see someone called Darren. A doctor of some sort.’

  ‘That’s it?’ I pressed.

  ‘She said she was going to look into that night.’ Faye frowned. ‘But couldn’t be sure it would amount to much.’ Faye reached into her pocket and took out a card. ‘I’ve been told to ring her if you turn up.’

  ‘Please don’t.’

  Faye paused, deliberating. ‘But don’t you think it would be for the best?’

  ‘No, I can’t trust them.’

  She nodded slowly, unquestioning. ‘I’ll put supper on then.’

  I headed upstairs, turned on Faye’s ancient computer and dug around in my duffel bag for the photo of Amy. I struggled to find it and quickly emptied the bag of its contents. It was then that I brought out what I thought was Bethany’s CD but a wave of panic moved over me as I quickly realised it wasn’t. Bethany’s was there too but this new one, I didn’t recognise. My mind flashed back to the library and falling to the ground. My breathing grew shallow as I realised someone had planted it in my bag.

  Sitting quickly in the office chair, I loaded the CD and double clicked on the disk icon. The hard drive whirred into action and I sat back, waiting.

  A pair of eyes filled the screen and I watched in horror as a large image of Amy’s face slowly panned out to reveal that she was tied to a chair, her mouth covered in duct tape. I struggled to breathe, my chest tight. Amy thrashed about in the chair, lashing her head from one side to the other. She was so much thinner too.

  I screamed before ramming my fist into my mouth, fearful Faye would hear me. Tears streamed down my face and I put one hand up to the screen, caressing her image with my forefinger.

  On the CD, I could hear the scraping of wood against wood. Seconds later, Amy’s face came up inches from the lens. She was so close: I could make out the individual freckles on her nose and the small scar above her eyebrow where she had fallen off the swing aged five. She had been so brave about the stitches. I touched her image with my hand again.

  ‘Amy, sweetheart.’

  A voice at the door and a gentle knocking: ‘You OK in there, Sophie?’ Faye asked. ‘You sound upset. Can I come in?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I called back, my voice wavering and paused the CD. ‘Honestly.’

  Silence ensued and I thought Faye might have left but seconds later, she said, ‘Sophie, supper will be ready in half an hour. OK?’

  ‘Sounds great.’ I forced a bright and breezy tone.

  After a minute or so, I heard Faye’s footsteps on the stairs.

  I pressed play again and realised Amy was speaking. I leant in, my face right up to the screen. The room she was in looked strangely familiar. I could see past Amy, out the window, and I felt like I had been there before. I could just make out a metal sign on the wall behind Amy, it read: Shamrock Place.

  She whispered, ‘Mummy, please can you stop this. Please help me.’

  I was shaking uncontrollably. I needed answers and used Faye’s landline to phone Zander, my boss’s, mobile. I knew the number off by heart because, I realised guiltily, of the number of times I had to phone to say I’d be late or request an extension. He had not once argued with me, or made me feel bad.

  There was no answer. I tried again. Instead I phoned Thompson and Partners’ main line. It was time to find out why Bethany’s father had employed me all those years ago. It was out of hours, but only just, and worth a shot. I knew Bex, the receptionist, hardly ever left the office before seven. She went straight from the office to some gym class pretty much every day.

  Clearing my throat, I dialled.

  ‘Thompson and Partners Limited. How may I help you?’

  Relief shot through me. ‘Bex, it’s me. Sophie.’ Silence. ‘Sophie Fraiser.’

  ‘Hi, Soph.’ She sounded panicky. ‘How you doing?’

  Why did everyone keep asking me that question: it felt so pointless but I answered anyway. ‘You know, not great.’

  ‘Hmm. I can imagine.’

  ‘Actually, Bex, I was wondering if you could put me through to Zander?’

  ‘Right.’ I could almost hear the clickety-clack of her bright red manicured nails moving over the keyboard, drumming the edge of the desk. ‘He’s actually on a call right now. Can you call back? Or I can get him to give you a ring?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll call back later.’

  I hung up the phone but I had already decided I needed to see him in person. To see the whites of his eyes when I told him I knew who his daughter was. Gathering my coat and wallet, I made my way downstairs and explained I was just popping out for a bit.

  ‘Oh no, Sophie. I’ve cooked your favourite. Lasagne.’ Faye looked dismayed.

  ‘I’ll be back before you know it. But you go ahead and eat.’

  ‘Sophie, do you have a mobile?’

  I remembered mine had been broken into smithereens and I shook my head.

 
; She handed me her phone: even more brick-like than the damaged one upstairs. ‘You never know when you might need it.’ She scribbled her landline number on a post-it note and passed it to me. ‘I’ll eat now but I’ll warm some up for you later.’

  I smiled appreciatively and hugged her close. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Be safe.’

  The night sky was clear. I wrapped my coat closely around me and tightened the belt. It would take me a good hour or so to get to the office in Temple but I needed to speak to him.

  It was time to get some answers from Zander Thompson: my boss and Bethany’s father. I wanted to know why he had never told me who he was, how I had come to be working for the very man my dead best friend hated. I certainly didn’t believe the link was coincidence.

  CHAPTER 22

  I made the familiar journey down Surrey Street toward Thompson and Partners. As I neared, I could just make out a figure leaving the building: Bex. She didn’t bother locking up because, just as I had thought, she wasn’t the last to leave. In fact, the building was pitch-black except for one window.

  Opening my wallet, I retrieved my card to access the building. As I swiped, I held my breath: it wouldn’t have surprised me if Bex had cancelled the card. But she hadn’t thought of that and I entered the building quickly and quietly, making sure the large swing-door didn’t slam back on itself. The reception area was dark; the only light came from the tropical fish tank in the corner. An angelfish darted through the water, kicking up the sand on the bottom. I waited for my eyes to adjust before moving up the stairs. The office had, in some ways, become a home from home. But now, I was a stranger in a foreign land.

  I knew I had to take Zander unawares. My ears were pricked: listening out for any movement but the only sound to cut through the murky gloom was the high-pitched hum of the pump in the fish tank. I felt for the first step and began the steady climb up to the fifth floor. Remembering Faye’s phone, I took it out and pressed a key to power up the display. It gave me just enough light to make it to the first floor, after which, I used the eerie green light from the fire exit signs. As I neared the top, I stopped momentarily to catch my breath. I put the phone back in my pocket, dragged my hand through my scraggly hair and strode up the final few steps.