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

‘So, why didn’t the taxi bring you home?’ Her mum’s voice was shaky.

‘I don’t know. I really don’t remember anything about a taxi. Well, anything about anything actually.’ Sophie put her head in her hands.

‘What about Amy? Any texts from her?’

‘Just the one,’ she lied, ‘similar to Tom’s. Hoping I’m okay and she’d talk to me tomorrow.’ Why had she said that? Stupid, but she really wanted them off her back.

‘Text her now, Sophie. Liz is worried.’

‘If she isn’t returning Liz’s texts she isn’t likely to reply to mine. She’ll be sleeping it off. I’m sure she’ll contact her after lunch.’

‘It’s pointless,’ her dad offered, ‘you know what they’re like after a night out drinking, Karen. And don’t even get me started on the fact you shouldn’t be drinking at all, Sophie.’

The jingling caused them all to jump.

‘Who’s that?’ her mum asked.

‘Give me a chance.’ Sophie fumbled with the phone. She could feel expectant eyes on her. She took her time reading it, then looked up. ‘It’s Maxi, from Anderson’s. She wasn’t even with us. She’s just checking if it’s my work or college week.’ She felt the weight of their disappointment. ‘Sorry.’

The room was still, the gentle swishing of water hitting against the dishwasher door a rhythmic comfort. Sophie wanted to escape the kitchen to her room. She edged towards the door.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Back to bed, Mum. I’m knackered.’

‘Really? When you don’t even know where your friend is? Aren’t you bothered? I think you should look on Facebook, see if she’s posted anything—’

‘NO. Listen, will you? She’ll be at someone’s house—’

‘Not just to see where she is, I want to know what taxi firm Erin used, I want to know what time they supposedly put you in it.’

‘What’s that meant to mean – supposedly?’

‘Well, I find it very odd that they said they put you in a taxi but it never brought you home. Either they are lying or something happened in the taxi. I want to know which it is.’

‘Why would they lie? Honestly, Mum, you’re so annoying.’ Sophie turned and went out the door.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ her mum shouted after her, ‘because they are rubbish friends and are covering their backs.’ She followed Sophie, continuing her one-sided rant. ‘They left you and now, rather than take any flak, they’ve put together some cock-and-bull story, knowing you were so out of it you’d believe whatever they said.’

Sophie carried on into her bedroom without replying. She slammed the door and collapsed on the bed. The room spun. She closed her eyes. She didn’t know what to think. Was her mum right? Had she been abandoned by her friends who had then concocted some story? She couldn’t see it. Okay, so they’d got separated a few times during nights out in the past, but it was never as bad as her mum made out. It’d only been because they’d got drunk and wandered off to chat to other people and not been able to find each other again. Not answering their mobiles was common, it was loud in pubs. Her mum didn’t get that, and if Sophie had to hear another ‘it wasn’t like that in my day’ story, she’d vomit.

No, she believed Erin had called a taxi, she’d always watched her back, even during their school days. It’d always been Erin who was the sensible one and Sophie trusted her completely. How had she ended up the other end of town, though? She replayed the evening again from the time she arrived at Amy’s. It was useless. She could only recall up to the point where they’d left the house to walk into town. They were all together then, definitely.

Her phone vibrated. She grabbed it, praying it was Amy.

Dan. Bless him. He always looked out for her. A shame she didn’t fancy him, everything else about him was perfect. Too perfect. Not bad-boy enough for her taste.

Morning gorgeous, how’s your head? XX

Despite her banging brain and the stressful events that morning, she smiled. She tapped a reply.

Not great, hun. What happened last night?

She waited, watching the screen, praying for him to give an answer to end this mystery.

You were well wasted, love. You wanted to go home after just 2 pubs! Light weight ;-) xx

Okay, now she was getting somewhere. If she’d wanted to go home, then she must’ve felt terrible. She knew her limits, and when she surpassed them, she always left – went home. Always. So, she had got in a taxi, like Tom had said. This threw up new, more difficult questions. Questions she didn’t want to face at the moment. Shit. Her mum would have a field day. She’d be on to the police, making accusations about the taxi driver. It was inevitable; her job had made her believe the worst of everyone.

Did you stay for the duration then? Who was with you?

She tapped the side of the mobile, her long acrylic nails clicking against the plastic casing. It was ten minutes before the vibrating heralded an answer.

Ended up at Shafters, as usual. All the boys made it, but lost Amy and Erin way before the club.

That wasn’t what she wanted to read. Shafters, the club’s nickname, was the one Sophie was found near. Erin likely got fed up and went back to her dad’s; she wasn’t into clubbing like the others, she preferred the pubs. But the fact that Amy hadn’t been with them was worrying. Where had she gone?

It was common for Amy to break from the group. Such a social butterfly, she loved being the centre of attention. And attention she got. Every night out, without fail, it was like she was the main act at Glastonbury: everyone crowding around her, bustling her, trying to get her to notice them. Her beautiful shiny, long dark hair, her flawless complexion, her vivaciousness; she had it all going for her. She was easily the most popular of the group. They’d met at work, Amy was on the beauty counter opposite the fashion concession Sophie worked for. They’d hit it off immediately, despite her being two years older.

Where was the last place you saw Amy?

Her acrylic nail lifted as she chewed at the skin on the side of her thumb. Why was it taking him so long to reply? All of her nails would need replacing at this rate. Maybe she’d have to do a group text. It might be a quicker way of getting the answers she so desperately needed.

Another ping. At last.

I saw her and Erin shove you into a taxi, outside the White Hart. I think she came into The Farmer with us, then. I can’t remember seeing her again after. She’ll have gone off with some bloke, you know what she’s like. Xx

Yes. She knew what Amy was like. That’s what worried her.

Tues 7.00 p.m.

Where’ve you been, my sweet? I hope you are going to reply by tonight. I’m fed up of sending texts and messages and getting no reply. I’ve missed talking to you, it’s been 2 days! I want to know how the plans are coming along for our ‘date’, it seems like I’ve been waiting for ever! A guy can only be so patient, you know

xxxxxx

Fri 11.57 p.m.

So sorry I haven’t replied. I’ve been so busy. There’s lots going on here, I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to meet up for our date tomorrow, something’s come up. Looks like you may have to be patient for a bit longer!

xxx

The Facebook notifications sent her phone into overdrive, each new alert sounding seconds after the next. Karen snatched up her mobile and pressed the Facebook app. Her shoulders slumped. The status she’d been dreading: