Sam Carrington - Saving Sophie - A compulsively twisty psychological thriller that will keep you gripped to the very last page

The three of them remained standing in the porch, the door flung open – the police officers, tall, official, on the threshold. The neighbours’ curtains twitched. With shaking hands, Karen attempted to steady Sophie, whose black patent high heels slipped on the tiled floor. She didn’t look at Mike, only vaguely aware of him thanking the officers.

‘Why were you on your own?’ Karen shouted. ‘Have they left you again?’ She didn’t care about the police officers, the neighbours, or Mike’s warning words coming at her from her left; they were a blur.

Sophie stared blankly ahead, her eyes unfamiliar. The bright blue, lively eyes Karen knew so well were dark; void of emotion. Empty of anything. But a mother could see the scared young girl behind them.

This wasn’t the fallout of too much alcohol.

With the police officers gone, shocked voices erupted in the privacy of the living room.

‘What do you think you were doing, Sophie?’ Mike shouted, inches from her pale face. ‘You stink of alcohol.’ He recoiled.

‘I don’t know what she was doing …’ Sophie looked up, her eyes fighting to focus.

‘What who was doing, love?’ Karen crouched beside Sophie, her words calmer now, softer than those spewing from Mike’s mouth.

‘I don’t know who she is.’ Her speech clumsy; the syllables tripping from her lips didn’t appear to be linked with the form her mouth was taking. ‘How do I know why Amy wanted to be Amy?’

‘Have you taken something, Sophie?’ Mike moved forwards again, grabbing her by the arm, forcing her into a sitting position on the sagging, cream sofa.

‘No. No …’

‘Mike! She’s too drunk to know what you’re even saying.’ Karen searched his face for that hint of a memory, knowing they had both, in their time, been in a similar state. All teenagers got drunk, didn’t they?

‘So that makes it all right, does it? Karen – look at her. It’s ten thirty, she’s only been out of the house since six.’ He stood and paced the room. Then he slumped on the two-seater sofa opposite, rubbing at his face, running both hands roughly through his greying hair. ‘Anything could’ve happened to you, anything . Do you understand, Sophie?’ His words spat out, his face contorted – an ugly expression, one Karen had observed before.

The laughter came out in short bursts. Unnatural. Not Sophie’s light, contagious laugh: this one sinister, unnerving.

‘You think this is funny?’ Mike got to his feet, launching towards Sophie – half sitting, half hunching, her head lolled, practically on her chest, as if it were too heavy to keep upright. Perched on the edge of the sofa, it would only take one more forward motion and she’d be on the floor.

‘Please.’ Karen thrust the palm of her hand towards him. With her eyes narrowed, she willed him to leave the room; she wanted to deal with this in the way she thought best and his anger was a hindrance. She dragged her gaze from his. ‘Sophie, love, were you with Amy?’

‘What does it matter she wanted to be Amy?’ More of the same spilled from her. It was pointless; getting any sense from her seemed unlikely.

Karen took deep breaths to try to control the anger germinating deep in her gut. Sophie’s friends had clearly left her. It wasn’t the first time either – only three months ago Mike had been dragged out of bed to pick Sophie up at midnight because she’d been stranded in Torquay with no money when her so-called friends had gone off. The usual ‘it’s just teenagers these days’ didn’t wash, it was plain selfish – left it wide open for things like this to happen.

‘I need the loo.’ Sophie propelled herself forwards. ‘I need a wee,’ she drawled.

‘I’ll take you.’ Karen supported her, one arm around her waist, the other outstretched to aid her own balance as they made their way towards the downstairs cloakroom. They looked like a pair of children tied together, about to take part in the three-legged race. Mike, red-faced, strode the length of the lounge and back.

Karen waited outside the door with her head leant against it. This was going to be a long night. She heard the flush, then a clatter inside.

‘You all right, Sophie?’

More giggling, then Sophie emerged, half sliding, half falling through the door. Together they made their way back to the lounge. Back to Mike, still pacing big angry strides.

‘I need to get her to bed.’

‘You don’t say.’ He averted his eyes from them.

Karen manoeuvred Sophie to face the stairs.

‘Can you get her a glass of water, please?’

Mike huffed, before disappearing into the kitchen. Karen took Sophie up the stairs, struggling to keep control of the rubbery body; the laughing-one-minute, crying-the-next girl who, only a few hours ago, had left the house looking smart and beautiful in her new black dress. Karen scrunched up her eyes. She couldn’t cry now. Not yet. This wasn’t her Sophie. Not the Sophie who looked after her friends: picked them up when they fell, let them cry on her shoulder, took them home if they were drunk.

Why had they left her in this state? Or had Sophie left them? And she’d been rattling on about Amy; she’d seemed distressed about her. Karen’s chest tightened.

Where was Amy?

Karen sat with her knees up and her back against the soft velvet-covered headboard, tapping the screen of her phone.

‘What are you doing?’ Mike asked, walking around to his side of the bed.

‘Texting Liz.’

‘For God’s sake, Karen, it’s midnight. Leave it.’ He sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off his trousers. Small change from his pockets scattered on the wooden floor, clinking and rolling everywhere. ‘Darn it!’

‘I need to know if Amy’s home safe.’ Karen spoke the words quietly, thinking if she said them softly, he’d understand her need for reassurance.

‘Sophie’s so pissed up she wouldn’t have a clue who she’d been out with. Anyway, she obviously got separated from them and now they’ll be in the club until three. Do not worry Liz about it. Just go to sleep.’ He was tired. Irritable. Karen knew he hated it when she couldn’t let things go.

‘Yeah, right, like sleep is possible now. I think it’s more than just alcohol.’

‘Relax.’ He bounced up and down, settling himself and yanked the duvet up over his shoulder. He turned away from her.

‘Mike,’ she pleaded, adamant that the conversation should continue despite his warning tone. She had things playing on her mind: disturbing things. ‘Don’t you think she looked like she’d taken drugs? Or that someone had drugged her? The way she was talking …’

‘Are you for real?’ Mike flung the duvet back off, exposing his muscled torso, and sat up, eyes glaring. ‘Don’t you think the police would’ve been a bit more concerned if they suspected something untoward had happened? Just because you used to work with a bunch of screwed-up criminals, it doesn’t mean every time Sophie goes out she’s going to be targeted by would-be rapists.’

Karen smarted. ‘You were the one who shouted at Sophie, said anything could’ve happened – weren’t they your words?’

He rubbed his palms aggressively up and down his face, groaning.

‘I meant she could have been knocked over, ended up in a ditch somewhere, and yes, it did cross my mind someone could have taken advantage of her. But that clearly didn’t happen. What you’re saying is that someone purposely drugged her. I’ve no idea what goes through your head. Now please let me sleep, we’ll talk to her in the morning. It’ll all be some pathetic teenage drama, some stupid fall-out with Amy, that’s all.’ He returned to his position, facing the window with his back towards her.