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

Has anyone seen or heard from Amy? She didn’t come home last night and her mobile is going straight to voicemail. Can you share this, please? Really worried.

It had started. Now the inevitable questions would follow.

‘Sophie. SOPHIE.’ Karen took two stairs at a time.

‘What?’ Sophie appeared at her door. She’d kept well out of the way for the entire day, only flitting downstairs to get food and then disappearing again before Mike detained her for further questioning. Karen had left her alone. There wasn’t much to gain from continuing to ask her questions she didn’t have an answer to. Her plan had been to try and approach Sophie’s friends without her knowledge, social media was easy for this purpose: ask around, find out which taxi firm had been used and take it from there. The Facebook status from Liz had just changed those plans. This was getting serious.

‘Liz is asking people to share her status on Facebook, Sophie. One saying Amy hasn’t made contact yet, and whether anyone has seen or heard from her. Have you?’

Sophie’s face scrunched. ‘No. Nothing, I’ve sent like, twenty texts. And group messages. We all have.’

‘All? Who is all?’

‘Our group, nearly everyone that was out last night. No one has seen or heard from her.’

‘What the hell happened last night? Something must have. Please, Sophie, you have to remember.’

‘I can’t. You going on about it and saying I MUST remember, doesn’t help. I. Do. Not. Remember. Got it?’ She stepped back inside her room and slammed the door.

Karen stayed, standing there stock-still. This was turning into a nightmare. Why wasn’t Sophie as worried as she was? She’d be horrified if any of her friends had gone missing, she’d be going out of her way to help. She tried to calm down. Apart from sending texts and messages to the others, perhaps there wasn’t much else Sophie could do at this stage.

She ran back downstairs into the dining room and fired up her laptop. Somehow, seeing it on the bigger screen made it scarier: thirty or so concerned comments from Liz’s friends, and some from the group of teenagers Sophie mentioned they’d been out with, all saying the same. No one knew where she was. Karen started Googling Missing Persons . A few clicks later and she slammed it shut again. Maybe it was better not to look, better not to jump to conclusions.

How long do you give it before contacting the police?

Karen dialled Liz’s number.

‘Any developments?’ Mike raised his eyes from his iPad as Karen walked in. He’d managed to make it to the lounge from the kitchen, a whole ten feet or so. He was now sitting, legs sprawled in front of him, back against the sofa, iPad balanced on his thigh.

‘Liz is giving it another hour, then she’s calling the police. I don’t know how she’s holding off. I would’ve done that already.’

‘You don’t want to spark a missing person’s appeal then have Amy turn up, hungover and apologetic because she’s been asleep all day. Too embarrassing.’

‘I think I’d rather be embarrassed. Imagine holding off for an hour, and then finding out that hour had been vital. I’d never forgive myself.’

‘Be grateful it’s not your daughter, then.’

‘Jesus, Mike.’ She walked away. She should be doing something more constructive. The knowledge Sophie would become key if this got as far as the police played heavy on her mind.

‘What about Erin? Has she told you which taxi she put Sophie in?’ he shouted after her.

‘No, I haven’t got around to checking it out yet. Sophie hasn’t heard from her, I don’t think.’

‘You do realise they are likely to be together, then?’

‘That’d be good. I hope that’s the case. I’ll give Rach a call in a minute to check.’ Karen wandered into the kitchen, her mind afloat with thoughts of what might have happened to Sophie. And what might have happened to Amy. She flicked the kettle back on. More coffee was required. ‘I wonder if Liz has phoned the hospitals,’ she said, more to herself than Mike. She leaned against the worktop, and while waiting for the kettle, checked the Facebook app on her mobile again. More comments offering ‘hugs’ and a couple of people had asked about hospitals. The reply from Liz was, yes, they’d checked already.

The police were clearly next.

Not much she could do right now. She’d keep tabs on Facebook and, with luck, there’d be some news soon. She sighed. There was still the washing in the machine – Mike’s ranger uniform he needed for work tomorrow. She’d best dry that, he couldn’t go up on Dartmoor with damp clothes. And they hadn’t eaten – her mind had been too preoccupied to consider food.

Her chest tightened and the nervous feeling she was accustomed to squirmed in her stomach. There was so much to do tomorrow. She hated Mondays. On top of her daily household chores, she had the counselling. She put out both hands and spread them on the worktop to steady herself. She inhaled deeply through her nose, held it, then blew out of her mouth. Breathe. Repeat. The thought of facing the day with all the unanswered questions was daunting.

The ringing mobile stopped her thoughts. It was Rachel. At least a conversation with her oldest friend might lift her current mood and she could ask her to grill Erin about the taxi company. It’d be better if her own mother did it, rather than Karen stalking her on Facebook. It’d been a few weeks since she’d last spoken to Rachel properly, one thing or another preventing a call. They often went weeks, occasionally months, with only the odd text to check the other was fine. But it didn’t matter; their bond was too strong for a lapse in time to break it. Rachel was Karen’s rock and always had been. She wouldn’t have got through the last two years without her.

Karen quickly pressed to accept the call.

‘Hey, Rach. You beat me to it, I was about to call you.’

Her head was still woozy. Almost an entire day of feeling like death – had it been worth it? Sophie sat in the same position she’d been in for hours, her limbs aching with inactivity. Her thumb swept across the screen of her mobile, scrolling through the feeds on Facebook, checking for any news.

The ding sounded unusually loud in her quiet room – it wasn’t the noise for her usual notifications. She tapped the screen. A new email. She hadn’t had an email for a while, not having used her account for months. Within the message from the unknown sender was a link. She should ignore it, delete immediately; it could be spam, a virus. Her thumb moved to the delete tab, then stopped. The words made her hesitate:

You’re gonna want to see this. More will follow . Do you recognise her?

Without waiting to consider it any further, Sophie clicked on the link.

The picture was cropped. Faceless.

A black dress, hitched up, revealing bare legs. A small tattoo visible on one ankle.

She swallowed, the constriction of her throat making it painful.

She knew immediately who it was.

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