It might’ve been an accident? An argument gone wrong, a scuffle, Erin fell – smacked her head, died. Sophie rubbed her face. Pointless. Of course, it wasn’t an accident. Her flashbacks didn’t match with an accidental killing. It’d been purposeful. Planned, even. It couldn’t possibly be one of her friends. For one, they weren’t that clever. And more to the point, they weren’t that sadistic, cruel. They weren’t psychopaths.
A movement at the front door caught her attention. Her dad was leaving, his face set, unsmiling. Perhaps Mum’s had another panic attack. Head lowered, he made his way to the Land Rover. He didn’t even indicate whether he’d seen Sophie, just climbed in, started the engine and drove off. Now she really didn’t want to go inside. Whatever the reason for his being home, it didn’t look too much like it’d reached a satisfactory outcome. She craned her neck to see inside the front window of the house, but couldn’t see her mum. Good. Hopefully she hadn’t seen her either.
The rest of the day was hers now, she realised; they weren’t expecting her back at work. Turning the key in the ignition, Sophie checked her mirror and moved off.
She knew where she should go.
If her mum couldn’t go and see Rachel, then she would.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
A chill consumed her insides, gripped her intestines, squeezed her heart.
Erin’s bedroom was quiet. Empty.
Sophie ran her fingertips gently over a photograph on the dressing table. A picture of the girls. Smiling. Blissfully happy. Erin’s lips were puckered, placed on the side of Amy’s cheek. Sophie, with her arms around Becks. Four of them together before a night out, always the most fun part of the evening. The laughs, the gossiping – getting ready with her girls was the best. Sophie bit hard on her lower lip until she tasted the metallic tang of blood, but it didn’t head off the tears.
‘Thanks for coming, Sophie.’ Rachel stood at the threshold of the room. Sophie turned, her face crumpled; a choking moan emanated from her. Rachel moved in and threw her arms around her. They stood, embraced; joined in a grief that was only just beginning its passage through them.
Not able to stay longer within the sadness of the abandoned room, Sophie asked if they could talk downstairs. They sat opposite each other at the large wooden table in the kitchen and had coffee. The same table Sophie had sat at a hundred times with Erin. Rachel talked about her memories of Erin and Sophie as children: how they’d once wandered off when they were four, picking berries from the hedgerow, and had walked too far and got lost. How they’d played for hours with the big leaves from the front garden bush, pretending they were money, using the wrought iron gate as a bank counter and pushing the leaves underneath, counting them out like a cashier would. They laughed at the memory of the Sylvanian family house with all its contents, the one Sophie had always been jealous of. ‘I’ve still got the lot.’ Rachel smiled.
Innocence. Only seemed a few years ago, really. Who would’ve known those memories of her childhood would be so poignant, so fragile?
‘I haven’t been able to share any of this with anyone. The only person who’s been here really is the family liaison officer, and she knows nothing about Erin. Not Erin when she was alive, anyway.’ Rachel looked down, fiddling with her hands in her lap.
‘I know. I’m sorry that Mum … that she hasn’t made it here.’ The guilt she felt wasn’t hers to own, yet she felt responsible, somehow. She should’ve been more supportive, helped her mum get here. ‘I’m sure she’ll get it together soon, she’s not staying away on purpose.’
‘Oh, I know that, love. Just wish …’ Her voice became high-pitched. ‘I wish she could be here … I need her so much, Sophie.’ The tears started over. Bigger tears, heavier crying; a sobbing which tore through Sophie’s chest. She got up, moved around the table and held Rachel tight.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rachel.’
Their bodies rocked together, a comforting movement; a slow dance to a silent song.
‘They took things from Erin’s rooms, here and at her dad’s, you know.’ Her voice was muffled by Sophie’s cardigan.
Sophie pulled away slightly, so she could understand what Rachel was saying.
‘What things?’
‘Her laptop, for one. Some things from her dressing table, her bedside table. A journal. Although I thought it was empty, she was given it one year by Adam’s sister, she’d only just taken it from its cellophane.’
‘Will you get them back?’
‘Apparently. It’s the thought of people, police, touching it though, reading her personal stuff. It’s a violation.’
‘It must feel that way, but if it helps them catch whoever did this …’
‘Yeah. I know. That’s what your mum said. And Adam. It hurts that I’m going through this alone. Erin is Adam’s and mine, yet, he’s there with her. I’m trying to cope with all this without the father of my child. Our dead child.’
Sophie winced. ‘I’m so sorry, that’s lousy.’
‘And she had the nerve to talk to me about Erin, too. Bitch. Said Erin had been having issues. Had confided she was unhappy. What right does she have having heart-to-hearts with my Erin?’
‘It must be difficult, but maybe she was trying to be nice, get Erin on her side as it were?’
Rachel shrugged hopelessly. ‘Whatever. What really sticks the knife in is that Erin didn’t feel able to talk to me about it. She hadn’t mentioned a thing about any problems. Nothing.’
‘Did she bother to tell you what the problem was?’
‘Eventually, after I threatened her …’
‘Oh.’ Sophie raised an eyebrow.
‘I know. I’m not proud; she rubs me up the wrong way, taking my husband of twenty years after only knowing him a few months. Anyway, she said Erin had been talking about wanting a boyfriend, someone who treated her, made her feel special. Mentioned her thoughts about going online to meet this man of her dreams.’
‘Really? She never said any of this to me. Are you sure?’
‘I’m not sure. She was. Also went on about how Erin was jealous of some of her friends, wanted to be more like them …’ Rachel broke down again. When she regained her composure, she added, ‘Wanted to be as popular, as pretty. Said she never got the attention they did.’
Sophie’s chest tightened. Surely, she couldn’t have meant her. She didn’t have a boyfriend. Amy? It must be Amy she’d referred to. The popular, pretty one with a seemingly wealthy boyfriend, one that showered gifts on her. So, she’d wanted to be like Amy, that’s why she’d dyed her hair, had extensions put in. How do I know why Amy wanted to be Amy? Her own, confused words came back to her. They were beginning to make more sense. Maybe Erin had also wanted the life Amy had. Was seeking it out.
And Amy met her boyfriend online.
At least some pieces were beginning to slot together.
‘Did Erin go online, then, like on a dating site or something?’
‘It’s possible, yes.’
‘Then, someone online may have …’
The sentence didn’t require finishing. They both knew where she was heading.
‘It’s a line of enquiry the police were keen to follow, yes. I assume they’re hoping to find something on Erin’s laptop, a trail, some solid evidence of who she’d been chatting to.’
‘Why didn’t Erin tell me?’ Sophie’s shoulders slumped. Erin usually confided in her. Why not about this?
‘That’s the question I’ve been asking myself for the last three days. I’m her mum, and we’ve been through so much. Why in God’s name did she talk to that woman, and not me?’
‘I guess she was keeping us both in the dark, then. The question is, why? And who else, apart from Adam’s girlfriend, did she tell?’
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Karen
‘I’ve never heard of anyone’s phobia actually worsening with treatment. But, congratulations, you’ve managed it.’
Back inside the house, Karen sat on the sofa breathi
ng in and out of the bag, while Mike stood over her. The attempt at getting to Rachel’s had failed before Mike had even turned the first corner of the road leading out of theirs. Pathetic. Or so he’d said.
‘It’s not a phobia … as such,’ Karen struggled to speak. ‘It’s a condition. Brought on by anxiety. As the anxiety increased … so did my symptoms.’
‘I don’t get it. Seriously. I mean, you started off afraid to be in the car on your own. Understandable. Then it progressed to not liking the car at all. Then afraid to go outside on your own, and now you’re afraid to leave the house, period.’
‘Yeah, thanks for the rundown.’ She put the bag down. ‘It’s not like I don’t remember my decline. Thanks.’
‘But why so bad? What am I paying that counsellor for? Are you sure she’s even qualified?’
Karen’s chest tightened. ‘Why don’t … you go back … to work.’ She squeezed the words out, hoping the tone came across as harsh as she’d intended.
‘Better had, someone needs to bring some money into the household.’
Oh, that’s right, bring that up now. Haven’t heard it in a while.
Karen watched through narrowed eyes as Mike turned and slammed the door on his way out.
Once the roar of the car disappeared, Karen went to the dining room, to her laptop. Now that he’d increased her anxiety further, a distraction was required. Five emails. Mostly spam.
Delete, delete … delete.
The two remaining ones looked important. She’d deal with them later.
Her finger hovered over the documents icon. Why did Mike have to make her feel so useless?
She moved the cursor across the screen.
He must hate her, to continually remind her of the fact that she let them down.
She clicked the icon and selected the file.
It was her penance; when she felt this bad about herself, the situation she’d forced on to her family, she revisited the diary she’d started after the attack. This was the first time in eight months, though. She’d done well. How had she been so stupid, so naïve? You’d think someone in her job role would think of the consequences, weigh up the pros and cons of agreeing to meet up with a man she’d only seen at work a few times. He came across so charming, selling his snacks to the staff at a lunchtime – full of compliments and cheeky winks. Aimed at Karen. He would linger at her desk, keen to engage her in chit-chat. He made her laugh. Made her feel good. Staring now at her words from two years ago, they reinforced the fact this was all her own fault. Her mess.
Aside from the need to punish herself, she’d kept the entries in a separate file just in case.
In case she ever told the truth. In case she was ever brave enough to talk to her counsellor about what really happened – that she’d agreed to meet her attacker, that he wasn’t a stranger. That she’d been the first victim of the man known now as the Carey Park rapist. It would aid her recovery, she knew that, but how could she come clean? What would the fallout of that be?
Her throat tensed as she read the first lines of the entry, visions of that night forcing themselves into her mind. His fingers tight around her neck. Her stomach contracted as she read another passage, her words on the screen bringing back the sounds of that night, the smells; the pain. The struggle to escape his grip tearing at every muscle. Reading the last line, her breathing shallowed, each breath an attempt to get air deep within her lungs. His hands restricting her oxygen, slowly strangling the life from her.
The door slammed.
Karen jumped, shut the laptop. Shut out the memories again. For now.
‘You okay? Oh no, Mum, where’s your bag?’
‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’
‘You don’t look it, you’re practically blue.’
Sophie ran around to the kitchen. ‘It’s not here, where is it?’ The rise in her voice gave away her panic.
‘In the lounge. It’s okay. I don’t need it.’ It was true; her anxiety hadn’t reached the stage where the bag was required again. Had Sophie not turned up when she did, putting a stop to her self-loathing mission, well, then she may have been in trouble.
‘Sure?’ Sophie held the bag out, a single raised eyebrow indicating disbelief.
‘Really.’ Karen moved past Sophie to the lounge. ‘How did it go at the station? All done?’
‘I guess so.’ Sophie perched on the arm of the opposite sofa. ‘They were going on about it being likely Erin knew her killer, like they said to you when you were attacked, that you must’ve known him.’
Karen stiffened and drew in a ragged breath through her nose.
‘Right, well, we know that’s not always the case, don’t we?’ She avoided eye contact with Sophie. ‘What about the taxi driver, did they mention whether they’re looking into him?’
‘No. No, they didn’t say.’
‘Well, that’s stupid, surely he is the main suspect at this time?’
‘I don’t know, Mum. Perhaps he is. They aren’t going to tell me, are they? And anyway, they’ve got Erin’s laptop; maybe they’re investigating her online activities.’
‘What for? And how do you know that?’
‘I went to Rachel’s.’
‘Oh. Right. That’s good. Well done.’ Her daughter was clearly a better friend than her. ‘How did she seem?’ Guilt soaked her words.
‘She seemed sad, Mum. Alone. Devastated. Every word you can think of to describe someone whose daughter has just been murdered.’ Sophie wiped a tear away. ‘Anyway, Rachel said Erin had told whatsherface she wanted to be more like her friend, I’m guessing Amy, and to have a boyfriend who treated her. Like Amy’s. And Amy met her boyfriend through a dating site, the one they keep advertising on telly.’
Karen’s shoulders dropped. An icy chill bit at her spine. ‘Do you think it’s someone she met, then? Did you meet him?’
‘It’s possible. More likely than it being anything to do with one of us. And no, I didn’t even know she was thinking about going on a dating site, we met enough guys when we were out, she never even hinted she’d try it.’
‘What do you mean, more likely than one of you?’
‘Oh, I got the feeling they, the detectives, were suggesting one of our group could be responsible due to their theory of it being someone Erin knew. Which is ludicrous.’
‘Is it?’
Sophie got up. Her mouth dropped open. ‘Are you serious? Of course it is. None of us are capable of hurting anyone, let alone killing them. How can you even—’
‘Sorry, sorry. I know. Calm down. It’s just, well, that Dan is a bit … off, don’t you think?’ The look washing over Sophie’s face caused Karen to retract quickly. ‘No, no of course you don’t think that, wouldn’t be possible. Although, I really believe he’s hiding something …’
‘Whatever.’ She shrugged. There was a detachment in her voice.
‘You think so too, don’t you?’ Karen studied Sophie’s face, watched for a reaction. She seemed to be struggling, a tug of war with her conscience; her loyalty split? She finally looked up.
‘He is acting a bit … odd.’ The words seemed hesitant, as if they were difficult to get out. ‘He keeps kinda showing up, like he’s been following me.’ The last words rushed out, as if saying them quickly would lessen the impact.
‘You should tell the police, let them know, he could have something to do with it. I knew he wasn’t right, not telling the whole story when he was here.’ Adrenaline kicked in, she was rambling. ‘He turned up here, texted you, made you go out to him, didn’t he? Checking up on you?’
‘Mum, please.’ Sophie’s hands went to her head and rubbed at her temples. ‘I can’t think straight.’
Karen got up, strode to the dining room, unplugged the laptop and sat back down on the sofa with it. After quickly minimising her diary document, she swung it around so Sophie could view the screen. And the photos of Dan on Saturday night.
‘Really, Mum? You’re stalking my friends, what are you playing at?’
> ‘I’m not playing at anything, and I’m not stalking.’ Karen lowered her chin, eyes pinned on Sophie’s. ‘I’m trying to find out what on earth happened to you.’ She willed herself to keep calm. ‘Anyway, look. Look at the picture, behind the boys, do you see?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘Is this the picture you were going on about last night?’
Her ‘mm-hmm’ response vibrated through her closed lips. Sophie tutted, but approached the screen, bending in close.
‘Looks like me, Amy and Erin. So what?’
‘Precisely. But, what do you notice?’
‘We’re standing by the car.’ She squinted. ‘Looks like we’re chatting.’
‘And the time the picture was taken?’
‘Eight thirteen.’ Sophie straightened. ‘So, you think this is the taxi I got in?’
‘I think it’s the car you got in, yes. But I don’t think it was a taxi. Look. There are no usual markings on it.’ She waited for it to sink in. Readying herself for the backlash of indignation, the counter argument. The accusation of Karen being paranoid.
There was none.
‘But Amy said … she said I was put in a taxi, that it had a sign on it. There has to be a simple explanation.’ Sophie’s brow furrowed.
She didn’t expand on what that explanation might be. Karen feared it was because she didn’t have one.
‘I have the feeling it’s far from simple. One thing is clear, mind. There is a killer out there. And you might well know him, Sophie.’
Her face, the colour washed out despite the make-up, turned up towards Karen’s.
‘Mum …’
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ Karen put her hand across and touched her cheek. It was the way she’d said Mum, like something big was going to follow.
‘I … well. Nothing really, I’m just scared I suppose.’ Her eyes fell downwards again, focused on her lap. ‘I want the police to catch him, and soon.’
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