Saving Sophie

by Sam Carrington

  The wait for a reply stretched. How had she got him so wrong? It couldn’t have all been a lie, there’s no way she’d have fallen for it. Surely.

  Karen,

  My feelings for you were never a lie. Just the pictures.

  It was me you saw, the real me. We touched. All those months of longing, being desperate to see you, feel you. And there it was, in that brief moment of contact you looked at me, and you touched my soul. As I knew you would. I need more of that.

  I couldn’t bear to think I’d never see you. You stopped all contact, suddenly. Cruelly. I’ve forgiven so much of what you’ve done. But you went beyond the boundary of my rules. I want to love you, forgive you again.

  We will be together, Karen. Just you watch and see.

  This wasn’t happening. He was delusional. What, who, had she got involved with? She took a moment, attempted to gather her thoughts. She had to approach this carefully, think her responses through. How she dealt with this would directly affect what he did next with Sophie.

  So, you aren’t who you portrayed online. To me. The pictures of you are fake.

  You aren’t targeting Sophie after all. The trouble you’re going to, following her, frightening her with those pictures, it’s all a ruse to get to me, is that right?

  Well, now you have what you want, I’m back in contact with you. We can work this out without Sophie’s involvement. Without Mike’s. Unless you want the police involved?

  Best it’s just you and me. Yes?

  That might do it. Give him a hint that she was willing to involve the police.

  You and me. Perfect. That’s how this is ending, Karen. First, though, a score requires settling. You’re currently ahead, and we can’t have that. We have to be on a level footing, you and I. For our future to work.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  Sophie

  Monday

  Sunday had been an awkward day of snatched whispers with her mum, and avoidance of her dad. Sophie had needed to tell her mum what Amy had said about Maria giving Erin the taxi driver’s number, to see if there were any links between her and the events that night. There’d been no opportunity to tell her the full story, but she’d managed to impart snippets. Enough to set off her mum’s antennae. She’d spent a number of hours on the computer afterwards, sat with her back to the dining room wall, her laptop screen shielded from their view. Sophie’s curiosity was piqued.

  She didn’t have time to wait for her dad to leave for work this morning; she had to be in college for eight thirty to ensure she got a parking space close to the entrance, so the full conversation with her mum would have to wait until this afternoon. She only had three lessons today, so she could be home well before her dad. A vague recollection of her mum sneaking in very late last night, telling her it was Jay stalking her, played around the edge of her memory. Was she dreaming it, or had her mum actually told her Jay was the stalker? She couldn’t be completely sure.

  Sophie swung her car into the college. Only a few spaces remained right outside the building. Good call to come early. She twisted around in her seat, checking around the perimeter of the car park. Nothing. A dark car pulled up on the road outside of the college wall, too far away to make out the occupant. Was it him? He’d never been in a car as far as she knew, always on foot, so hopefully not.

  Quick, get in the building now.

  She sped up the pathway, swinging her arm around to lock the car door with the button on her key. She was in. Safe. So much easier than work. Perhaps this college week meant a reprieve from Jay’s attention. He wouldn’t get near enough here.

  Once in the classroom, her apprehension dissolved. A few other early students gathered at one table, chatting about their weekend. All was normal. For now. Even the sun was making a rare appearance, sending tracks of yellow through the window, hitting her table and ricocheting off – making her skin glow with a pleasant warmth as it touched her face.

  Sophie pulled out her folder, placed it on the desk and slumped into the chair. If her memory was right and her mum had come into her room, told her it was Jay – how was it going to play out now? Would he stop following her and sending pictures if he was back in touch with her mum? But then, what did he want with her? She’d have to warn her mum, somehow break the news to her about him being the one who’d murdered Erin. Otherwise, her mum was in danger too.

  Could this get any worse?

  As the classroom began filling up, two figures appeared at the door. They stood talking to her teacher. Sophie looked away, sinking lower in her chair. Really? Were they here for her? DI Wade and DS Mack moved back from the doorway. Mr Allen squeezed through, beckoning to Sophie.

  She closed her eyes. Oh, please, not now.

  But it wasn’t like she could just ignore them.

  ‘Sophie Finch.’ The voice was loud enough for the whole class to shut up and look in her direction.

  Great.

  The room was silent as she walked out, hushed conversations starting up again as she shut the door.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  DI Wade

  ‘Hi, Sophie,’ DI Wade said. ‘Can we have a chat? We’ve got a room just down the corridor, shouldn’t be disturbed there.’ She put a hand on Sophie’s shoulder, gently guiding her in that direction.

  DS Mack held the door open for her and Sophie, then he followed them in.

  ‘What is it?’ Sophie’s voice was shaky. She looked from her to Mack.

  ‘Oh, nothing much really. I’m afraid there haven’t been any significant leads. We were hoping you may have remembered something?’ Lindsay raised one eyebrow.

  Sophie sat on the arm of a low chair and fiddled with her fingers. She looked down at them, saying nothing for a long time. Lindsay was about to prompt her when she finally spoke.

  ‘There was something that came up, actually. To do with Saturday night …’ She seemed to take in a deep breath and hold it. Was she about to say something important?

  ‘It’s come to light that the number for the taxi driver Erin called was given to her by her dad’s girlfriend, Maria—’

  ‘Ah, yes, we’ve already been given that, but thank you.’ Mack dismissed it with a wave of his hand. Sophie’s mouth dropped. She obviously hadn’t been expecting that response. Lindsay wondered why.

  ‘How are you doing, anyway, Sophie? Must be awful to lose a friend, especially under such terrible circumstances.’ Lindsay used her soft voice, the one reserved for telling bad news or trying to be approachable. She was hoping it would encourage Sophie to open up.

  ‘It’s still so … unreal, really. I don’t think it’s hit me yet.’ She fiddled with her fingers again, cracking the knuckles of one hand. Lindsay had noted this during the initial interview at the station, took it as a sign of nerves. But maybe there was more to it; anxiety, stress. Lies? Would Sophie finally break and mention the emails?

  ‘Did you go to the site where she was found?’ Lindsay asked.

  Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘No! I couldn’t … wouldn’t want to see. Anyway, isn’t it all cordoned off?’

  ‘Not all of it now. And you might find it actually helps, you know, seeing all the flowers and tributes. It sounds odd, probably, but it can make it real, help commence the grief process. Because at the moment, I’m wondering if you’re holding on to far too much.’

  Sophie’s face took on a stony expression. ‘I don’t think so. I can’t face it, seeing the exact spot where that vile killer discarded her.’ Her nose turned pink and she pressed her lips together tightly. Tears came. ‘That bastard stabbed her, strangled her, and for what possible reason? When are you going to catch him? Why haven’t you made progress?’ The anger, abrupt in its expulsion, came as a shock. Lindsay turned sharply to Mack. Had he picked up on what she’d just said?

  ‘We do have a number of avenues yet to investigate—’

  ‘Well, why aren’t you out there investigating? Instead of here? What use am I to you?’

  Lindsay remained silent, letting t
he questions ride. She saw Mack put a hand inside his jacket pocket. He took a step towards Sophie.

  ‘Here. I wanted to hand this back to you. We’re done with it, thanks.’ He held out Sophie’s iPhone. ‘Just thought, as we were here, we’d see if you had any further information, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, right. Thanks.’

  ‘We’ll leave you to your college work then, Sophie.’ Lindsay turned to leave. ‘Just one more thing …’

  Sophie sighed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘There’ve been reports of a man following women in the area. We’re in the process of obtaining an E-FIT of the suspect. Have you noticed anything unusual, anyone taking more of an interest in you, Sophie?’

  Sophie kept eye contact, but pursed her lips, shaking her head. ‘No. Can’t say I have.’

  ‘Okay. Keep alert though, yes? And don’t hesitate to call us if you’re worried. Anything you see that’s at all suspicious, call immediately.’ Lindsay smiled, gave a curt nod of her head, then left with Mack.

  ‘How come you didn’t try and push her, get her to open up about receiving the emails? We might find out who they’re from without having to wait.’ Mack strode to the car, swung the door open and began folding himself inside.

  ‘Gut feeling is she doesn’t know who’s sending them. But, if I frighten her now, force her to spill before she’s ready, she might not lead us to anything important. I want to sit it out. Watch her. See what happens.’ Lindsay tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, staring towards the college.

  ‘What if nothing does? We can’t afford to sit on this. We should confront her now.’

  ‘Mack, Mack … patience. It doesn’t always pay to be a rugby player at a ballet now, does it?’

  Lindsay started the car, giving Mack a sideways glance before setting off for the next place on her hit list.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  Karen

  What was Jay on about? A level footing? Evening the score?

  Karen had gone over it all night long. There was nothing to get even for. They’d had an online relationship, she’d finished it. End of. Where’s the score to settle there? He’d lost it. And he hadn’t replied to her last email accusing him of such. Of course, he’d ignore her purposely now, make her wait. He clearly wanted the full effect of her desperation, knew leaving her hanging for a while would drive her crazy.

  Why was this happening to her?

  She’d crept into Sophie’s room in the early hours, crouched down beside her bed, and, whispering so as not to alert Mike, told her briefly about the emails from Jay. Sophie’s sleep-filled eyes had fought to focus. Had she taken in any of what she’d said? Sophie had left for college before Mike had gone to work, so Karen hadn’t got another chance to speak to her alone. There was a certain comfort in knowing Sophie was at college this week. It was far less likely Jay would hang around her for fear of being spotted on CCTV and teachers notifying the police.

  Mike’s mood when he gave her a cursory kiss goodbye that morning seemed off, distant. Did he sense the tension? Or had he noticed when Sophie bundled her into the kitchen yesterday, out of his earshot, to tell her about Maria? There’d been no time for Karen to tell her about Jay then, with Mike creeping in behind them, supposedly to make a cup of coffee.

  Yesterday afternoon’s search of Adam’s new girlfriend on the internet had generated few details. On every social media site, Karen found the same information. Maria Nickson, aged thirty-seven, self-employed bereavement counsellor. This was interesting, given the circumstances. Yet, no other facts were listed, no personal information found. Nothing before November 2014. Not on a single search engine. Peculiar. Practically everyone Karen knew had been on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or Pinterest for a number of years. Not merely four months. Sophie said Maria and Adam had moved in together a month after meeting. So, she showed up, moved in with Rachel’s husband and set about gaining Erin’s trust, all within four months.

  The most significant thing was that she didn’t seem to have existed before then.

  Investigating Maria had been yesterday’s distraction technique. So far today, housework had been her ally, busying herself with chores in order to prevent the constant refreshing of emails. How much longer was he going to make her wait?

  Her phone pinged.

  Bolting up from loading the washing machine, Karen ran to the dining room. She flipped up the screen, unlocked it, and navigated to emails.

  There. Finally.

  Two words, Karen.

  Andrew.

  Watkins.

  That’s it? That’s all he was giving her?

  Watkins. Sounded familiar; nothing was coming to the forefront though.

  She typed a reply: Don’t know what you’re talking about.

  Less than thirty seconds later:

  Really? You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?

  He’s someone you used to know.

  Someone you royally screwed over.

  Ring a bell now?

  A sliver of memory floated marginally out of her reach. Someone I screwed over. Could be to do with probation, referring to her recalling someone to prison for breaking their conditions. But, who? There’d been dozens in her time. Andrew Watkins. Why didn’t she remember the name? Her mind raced back over the period of her attack. The police had gone on and on at her, pressing her for names of likely suspects, convinced her attacker was someone she supervised. Had she given them Andrew Watkins’ name to put them off the real trail?

  Surely she hadn’t. She’d been a mess, didn’t want Mike finding out about her secret meeting with the ‘sandwich guy’ from work who’d attacked her. But would she really implicate someone she knew to be innocent? Even if she had though, the real attacker had been caught and imprisoned just four months later following another attack, a more sustained and serious one than she’d been subjected to. It was a horrifying thought that someone else had suffered at his hands, and that she might have prevented it if she’d given more details to the police at the time.

  She was beginning to hate herself. The person she’d become was unrecognisable, the old Karen merely someone she used to know.

  Think, think.

  There was no way she’d email back until she remembered. Without access to the probation database she couldn’t search the name, and since she’d left the service, her options were limited. An ex-colleague might be able to help. How could she enquire without risking the inevitable question of why she wanted to know?

  She’d give the office a call anyway; drop his name into the conversation, see what came of it.

  ‘Oh, hi Kerry, glad you picked up.’

  ‘Karen? It’s been so long, how are you doing?’

  ‘Well, not great, if I’m honest. Lots going on. How’s the old place been since I left?’

  ‘Apart from the fact it’s missing the best probation officer we had, you mean? Huh. Same as ever really, my lovely.’

  ‘Ahh, I miss it too … sometimes.’

  ‘Now, now. I think we both know that’s a lie.’ Kerry treated Karen to her hearty laugh down the phone. ‘What can I do for you anyway? Sure you didn’t just ring to find out about this place.’

  ‘I did wonder if you wouldn’t mind wracking your brains for me, actually.’

  ‘I can try; not much to wrack these days, might not be of any use.’

  ‘No worse than mine, honestly. I’ve been asked about this bloke and I know I’ve heard his name, but can I place it? Probably isn’t anything to do with work, but can’t for the life of me figure out where else I’d have heard it.’

  ‘Go on then spit it out, let’s see.’

  ‘Andrew Watkins.’

  Karen could hear Kerry repeatedly muttering his name, obviously attempting to grapple some semblance of memory together, as she herself had been doing. Keys tapped in the background. Bless her, she’s looking him up. She knew she could count on Kerry.

  ‘He was one of yours,’ she said finally.

  Those weren’t the wor
ds she wanted to hear.

  ‘Oh. From when?’

  ‘Way back, no wonder you didn’t remember his name. Case notes from your sessions would’ve been handwritten and filed away, not much on the database apart from the dates.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘Nineteen ninety-eight he came out on licence. Three months later, he breached his conditions. You recalled him.’

  Ninety-eight. The year Sophie was born.

  She’d gone back to work within three months of having Sophie – they’d needed the money.

  ‘We’d recently completed all our training, remember?’ Kerry was saying. ‘We were newbies together. Both floundering. You more so, what with your little Sophie being a nightmare at night. Poor thing, you were always knackered.’

  She remembered it well. And now she remembered Andrew Watkins.

  Known to most people as Drew. He’d always said, ‘I’m not a bad person, you know. Just had some bad luck.’ It used to make her laugh; she’d thought it ridiculous. Of course he was bad. He committed crime – aggravated burglary, in fact. How could he class that as bad luck?

  When he’d got out on licence, she’d supervised him. And when he broke the terms of his conditions by visiting an off-licence, she recalled him. Her first recall.

  So, what did Andrew Watkins have to do with Jay?

  She thanked Kerry, said her farewell. Then emailed Jay to get some answers.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  ‘I think things may be getting a whole lot murkier.’ Sophie flew in, dumped her bag and flopped on to the sofa.

  ‘No shit, Sherlock.’ Karen sat next to Sophie, twisting so she could face her.

  ‘Oh no, what’s that meant to mean? What’s happened with you now?’

  ‘Oh, please.’ Karen held out a hand. ‘You first.’

  ‘Well, the police visited me at college today. DI Wade and her sidekick, Mack. Mentioned other women who are being followed, and I get the impression that not only do they think it’s the same guy, but that he is going to target me too.’