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

Now she was sure of it.

‘Has the drunken mess surfaced?’ Mike raised his eyes fleetingly from his iPad as Karen entered the kitchen, returning them immediately to whatever was more interesting. On his days off, if he wasn’t watching TV or in the office, he had his head buried in his beloved iPad. Karen wished she’d never bought it for him.

‘I went in and woke her.’ Karen passed by him to get to the kettle. She touched its side, then flicked the switch. ‘You want a coffee?’

No answer.

‘Mike,’ she shouted, ‘you want a coffee?’

‘Uh, no. Not long had one.’ He placed the iPad on the breakfast bar. ‘What did she have to say for herself? Any explanations?’

‘She can’t remember any of it—’

‘Oh, of course not,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘Should’ve known she’d deny all knowledge.’

‘No, I don’t think it’s like that, she really didn’t seem to remember.’

‘Don’t be so damned gullible.’ He snorted – an annoying habit he’d developed when belittling what Karen said. ‘She knew she’d be in trouble, so she’s taking the easy way out with this “I can’t remember” bull.’ He waved his arm dramatically. ‘It doesn’t wash with me.’ He got up, pushing the bar stool back. The screeching made Karen wince.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m going to find out what exactly went on last night.’ He was already at the kitchen door.

‘No, don’t. She’s not up to it, you’ll get nothing from her.’

He swung around to face Karen. ‘I’ll do what I see fit. She was out of order. She needs to know the trouble she caused, and what she put you through.’

‘She didn’t really put—’

‘Enough.’ He scowled. ‘Stop sticking up for her. She was in the wrong, she has to learn there are consequences.’ He disappeared up the stairs.

Standing, stirring her coffee, Karen considered how this was going to play out. He’d have a go at Sophie, she’d throw a strop, Mike would then blame Karen for Sophie’s reaction; her shortcomings were always laid at Karen’s door, and then he’d be unbearable for about a week before he finally realised he’d overreacted and apologise. She sighed and took a sip of the coffee, hoping it might quell the growing nausea. Mug in hand, she crept to the bottom of the stairs. No shouting. She raised her eyebrows. Unusual. She stayed there for a while, listening intently. Only muted voices.

Sophie’s door opened. Karen scuttled back to the kitchen, spilling hot liquid as she went. Damn. Hearing his footing on the stairs, she quickly seated herself at the breakfast bar. ‘Well?’ She looked to him as he walked in.

‘You’re right.’

Karen almost dropped her mug. ‘What do you mean?’

‘She really has no clue about last night, Karen.’ He plonked heavily on the stool opposite her. ‘Why? I don’t understand how she could get ratted to the degree she has no memory of anything past seven o’clock. That’s not good. Not good at all.’ He rubbed his forefinger along his bottom lip.

Karen’s hairs prickled on her arms. The niggling worry in her gut grew into an intense knot. She hadn’t checked her phone. Had Liz texted her back? She got up and ran to the bedroom. Retrieving the phone, she stabbed at the screen to access her messages. Her heart jolted. Liz had replied a few hours ago. Amy didn’t come home last night. She isn’t answering her mobile, does Sophie know where she is? Liz xx

Running back downstairs, Karen burst into the kitchen and thrust the phone in front of Mike’s face.

‘I told you not to text her, Karen.’

‘Really? You’re going to have a go about that now? Have you read it? Shit. Sophie was going on about Amy last night, and now Amy is missing.’

‘She’s not really missing, is she?’ His tone was sarcastic, one reserved for the innocent ignorance of a child. ‘She probably just stayed at a friend’s last night and is sleeping off a hangover. Like Sophie!’

It was a valid point. He was probably right. But why did she have a nervous feeling, a worming thread of fear branching throughout her belly? How could she tell Liz that Sophie had no memory of the night, and had no idea where Amy was?

She re-read the message and then replied.

Why couldn’t she piece the night together? Sophie sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, eyes shut tightly, willing the memories to come to her. Pre-drinks at Amy’s – she remembered that. There’d been six of them, the usual girl group: her, Amy, Erin, Becks, Alice and Rosie. Then some of the boys joined them – Dan, Jack and Tom – about half an hour before they planned on going into town. They’d done the shots, encouraged the girls, too. Sophie had at least three, but that was after the wine. She hadn’t finished the bottle though; she remembered the wine had tasted off. It was still a lot to consume in a few hours, she guessed. But she’d drunk far more in the past and had never forgotten an entire evening. Hazy, maybe – but not a complete blank.

Her head hurt. A piercing staccato pain right behind her eyes. She rubbed at them, hoping to relieve it. It didn’t work. Covering her head with the duvet, she sank back into the pillow and let her eyelids fall. They felt so heavy. Ugh. Why did she drink those shots? They’d clearly pushed her over the edge.

The morning’s conversation she’d had with her parents played over in her mind. How can you be brought home by the police and not have any recollection of it? It didn’t make sense that she was found, on her own, near the roundabout. It was within walking distance of the nightclub. Had she been there? They never went to the club much before midnight, though. Her dad was going to question her for days. How could she tell him what she didn’t know? Her only hope was that her friends could fill the gaps.

Her phone. She was bound to have a million texts by now. Where was it again? Oh, no. Downstairs. She raised herself into a sitting position and in what seemed like slow motion – her brain strangely disjointed from her body – made her way through the house. She didn’t particularly want to face her parents, but she could hear their voices in the kitchen, so if she wanted her phone, she’d have to. It wasn’t like she could sneak in without being seen, not the way she was moving.

Her mum flew from her seat as she walked in. ‘Amy didn’t return home last night.’

Her dad sighed, his head lolled back.

‘I’m just going to check to see what messages I have. I’m sure she probably stayed at someone else’s.’ Sophie swiped at the mobile screen.

‘That’s what I’ve been telling her,’ her dad said, shaking his head.

Sophie’s pulse increased as she scanned the dozens of messages. Tom had sent four. Are you OK, babe? Where’s you at? I’m worried, can’t find you. And the final one – Amy said Erin called you a taxi and they bundled you in it to go home, haha! Seriously tho, hope your feeling ok. She scrolled through some others to see if Erin had messaged. She hadn’t. She’d probably turned her phone off due to all the group message notifications driving her mad. Sophie looked up; her mum and dad were staring at her, waiting for her to give them answers. What should she tell them? She’d been put in a taxi to go home? Then how come she had been found on the other side of Coleton, the opposite direction to home? Great. More interrogation. She took some deep breaths. Her head throbbed: the characteristic post-drinking dehydration pain twisting together with a growing anxiety. She gave herself a moment before speaking.

‘Tom’s messages say that Amy and Erin put me in a taxi to come home.’ The urge to retreat to her bedroom was huge, but she couldn’t avoid her mother’s eyes. They seemed dull, almost black, and below them dark circles made her look ill, haunted. Frowning, deep wrinkles were appearing in her forehead. Her mother looked older today, drawn. Her usual bouncy, curly hair hung about her shoulders in lank, lifeless chunks. She guessed her mother’s worse-than-usual appearance was her fault. She must’ve been up all night worrying.