I rammed my belongings in my bag, leaving only the empty cans on the bed. The landlord was watching TV, and I slid past reception unnoticed, my heart beating loudly in my ears. Once outside, I walked fast down the street in the driving rain until I spotted the welcoming orange light of a free taxi.
‘Where to, love?’ the driver asked, switching off the light as I clambered into the back.
‘Soho,’ I answered.
‘Anywhere in particular?’ He started off, his eyes on mine in the mirror.
‘Just drop me outside the Century Bar.’ It was time to meet with my contact. I had met Jia in my early days at Thompson and Partners. She had been a whistle-blower for a major city bank and having gone into hiding decided to make her money finding out information the likes of me would never be able to access.
‘Okey-dokey.’
The taxi driver had a run of good luck with the lights and the traffic was relatively light because of the hour.
I was soon stood on Shaftesbury Avenue and I rang Jia. She answered after three rings. Finally, a lucky sign.
‘Sophie?’ She sounded wary.
‘Yeah, it’s me.’
‘Bloody hell. I’ve been waiting for your call. I got your message.’ She sounded fraught. ‘I saw you on the news. How you doing?’
‘Fine. Well, not really. Listen, my battery is running low and I can’t charge my phone up for now.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Soho.’
‘Soho. Is that it? That’s all you’re giving me?’
‘To be honest,’ I admitted, ‘I’ve got nowhere to stay tonight. I was at a B&B but I don’t want to stay in the same place for too long, in case the police catch up with me.’
‘Shit, Sophie. I’d invite you here, only …’
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. ‘I know the rules.’ Rule number one for Jia: she preferred to do business over the phone, where possible.
‘I need you to do me a favour. I’ll transfer the money, the normal way, but will you help me?’
‘As I always say, Sophie, depends. Fire away.’
‘OK. I need as much info as possible on a woman called Bethany Saunders.’ I filled her in on as many details as possible: obviously, I could be pretty precise about the date of her death. ‘At Aberystwyth University, started in ‘89, studied law.’
‘Leave it with me.’
I went to thank her but she had already hung up. After wandering through the backstreets of Soho for well over an hour, stopping only once to have a sandwich bought from a Spar, I decided to bunk down in the entrance of a shop. I couldn’t risk checking in anywhere, using my card or even using my phone beyond what was necessary. The police would be out looking for me now and I sure as hell looked guilty now.
I wrapped my coat as tight as it would go around me but it was bitterly cold, making it impossible to sleep. After an hour or so, however, I felt my eyelids getting heavier. Sleep took a hold of me, and I didn’t try to stop it. I wanted to escape this world, and enter another.
Then: chink.
I brought my head up quickly. My muscles immediately tensed, ready to fight. But there was no one there. I lifted myself from the ground and scanned the road. No one. That’s when I noticed a two-pound coin, on the pavement, by my feet. I smiled. Some kind soul had thought I was a tramp, homeless. Reality clobbered me around the head: I was homeless. Or, I wouldn’t return home, until I had my daughter.
A grumbling sound came from behind me. I swivelled around. A bearded man moved past me and sat down in the shop entrance. He handed me a bottle. Vodka. I could have; I wanted to, but I shook my head and sat back down too. The man stared at me and brought a brown hessian sack up around his chin. He would be my company tonight. I grimaced at the stale smell that came from his ‘blanket’ every time he moved. He knocked back a huge gulp of the vodka and closed his eyes.
He must have felt me staring and his eyes flicked open. I smiled apologetically and, in turn, tried for sleep once more. Moments later, I felt something scratch my hand and opened my eyes quickly. The man held out another hessian sack. He silently indicated that I should put it underneath me. I did, more by way of making amends for my ill-mannered behaviour. He nodded, happy that I had done as I was told, and once again returned to his slumber. I had to admit, he had a point. The warmth that came from having the rough material under me allowed me to drift off.
After a couple of hours of restless sleep, I opened my eyes. A rubbish truck was making its way up the side road. The lifting mechanism screeched with every new load of commercial waste.
It was only after a few minutes of contemplating my next move that I realised the man had gone. I lifted myself up and folded the hessian bag in a neat square. Not sure how I could return it to the owner I carefully placed it in the corner.
I glanced at my watch. My heart quickened: I had thirty hours to find Amy.
The coffee shop on the corner was already open and I ordered an espresso and a croissant. Downing the coffee in one, I ordered another. A quarter of an hour later, I was ready; my eyes stung and I could barely string a sentence together due to tiredness, but I had a plan.
As I hadn’t heard back from Jia, I headed to a library. Once I had secured a seat away from prying eyes, I started my search but I felt like I was being watched. Fear pricked the hairs on the back of my neck. I swivelled in my chair and my eyes came to rest on the librarian busy checking out books. She looked up. I gave her a small smile and turned back around in my seat.
I had feigned needing access to newspaper records for PhD research in criminology; I felt it was only partly a lie. Although I thought I must have read every article about what happened that night, maybe, just maybe, I had missed something. At first nothing came up. The pages took increasingly longer to load as my fingers tapped the keyboard vigorously. I couldn’t think of any other keywords or sets of words. Familiar articles, their font and typeface now dated, appeared on the screen. But I had seen it all before. Then, I remembered the bracelet: To Love is to Protect.
It sounded so familiar, like something I had been told as a child. Maybe it came from a children’s story or rhyme.
My phone started buzzing on the desk. The librarian glanced over and shot me a disapproving look.
‘Hello?’ I whispered into the phone.
‘Sophie?’ Paul’s voice boomed loudly down the receiver. ‘Why are you whispering and where the hell are you?’
I left the room hurriedly, my head down.
‘Paul, why are you ringing me? How did you know this number?’
‘You gave it to me ages ago. I tried your other phone, there was no answer so I gave this number a go.’
‘Why are you ringing?’ I repeated.
‘Because you’re missing,’ he said simply. ‘Because we’re just about to do another press conference and you’re not here, because Fiona just asked me if I knew where you were.’
‘And DI Ward?’
‘She’s got officers out looking for you.’
‘Right.’ I leant up against a wall. I didn’t know if anyone was listening in; I didn’t want to give too much away.
‘That’s all you’re going to say?’
‘I’m looking for Amy.’
‘Alone?’ he asked incredulously.
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you?’ he repeated.
‘I can’t tell you.’
He lowered his voice. ‘Sophie, be careful. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’
‘I can’t just sit at home.’ I risked being heard and said, ‘She told me I have forty-eight hours to find Amy. And that was last night.’ I turned and pressed my forehead to the wall. ‘Paul, you need to go and get our little girl. We can do this,’ I hit the wall gently with my clenched hand, ‘together.’
‘Sophie, I have to go.’
‘Wait,’ I said quickly, ‘one thing, will they do it? Will this woman kill her if I don’t find her in time?’
Paul hesitated. ‘Sophie, just come home.’ Desperation tinged his words.
I knew I had to stay calm if I wanted him to tell me more. ‘Paul, please.’
Silence: the gulf of unanswered questions sat stagnant between us.
‘Paul, just tell me where she is. I’ll deal with it. I won’t involve you. Just tell me where Amy is.’
I knew he had to know Amy’s abductor or else why would he be lying? My best guess was the woman was threatening him somehow, she had some sort of a hold over him.
He killed the call and I kicked the wall with my foot in frustration. It felt as if I was going around in circles. I needed help but, as I couldn’t ask the police directly, it was time to check in on Darren.
A woman answered. ‘Darren Fletcher’s office.’
I stopped breathing. I thought I’d get straight through.
‘Would you like me to connect you?’ asked the woman.
‘Please.’
She hesitated; I could hear the rustle of paper. ‘Bear with me. Let’s see if he’s free.’ She clucked down the phone. ‘No, I’m afraid he’s got another patient. Could you ring back tomorrow?’
‘Not really,’ I answered frankly. ‘When will he be free?’
‘He’s in sessions for the entire day.’ She paused. ‘Oh, wait a sec. Can I ask who’s calling?’
I debated that one. ‘Sophie. Sophie Fraiser.’ I cleared my throat. ‘I am a patient.’
‘Ah, OK. Then that’s a different matter.’
‘Really?’ Was that a good or a bad sign?
‘Yes. Darren has left a note here stating that, if you were to ring, I must tell him. Apparently, a matter of urgency.’ She dropped her business-like guard.
Without further delay, she put me through to his office.
‘Yes, it’s me …’
‘Where are you?’
‘I need to see you.’ I swallowed hard.
‘Everybody’s looking for you.’ He sighed deeply; it sounded as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘The DI’s onto me. Wants me to tell her as soon as you get in contact.’ He hesitated. ‘She doesn’t, however, know I’m still willing to help you. To a point, though, you understand? I know you’re not going to tell me where you are and so it would only play on my conscience if I didn’t guide you where I can.’
I nodded. ‘Did you show her your notes so far?’
‘No, patient confidentiality. Until I consider you to be a danger to the public, I can’t give her access to them.’
I felt a brief glimmer of hope: maybe the DI would see that it was all coming together.
‘Sophie,’ he said, his tone grave, ‘it would be easier if you came back.’
‘I can’t.’
He breathed heavily down the phone.
‘Darren, DI Ward told me that you managed to crack a case using exposure therapy. I read about it. Why is it not working for me?’
‘It is working, Sophie.’ He hesitated. ‘It is working but the thing is you have to be willing to open your mind up entirely. You see, if you hold back because, say, you’re scared of what you might remember, we will always hit a wall.’
‘How do I do it then? Not hold back?’ I pushed him.
‘The thing is, Sophie, it’s a double-edged sword. Your mind is protecting you by not allowing you to entirely return to the time of trauma. In some cases, when a person’s mind is fully accessed, they have never recovered.’
‘Darren, I need to remember who killed Bethany. I need to unlock everything. Please,’ I encouraged. ‘I’ve got a bracelet that I found after she was murdered. It says “To Love is to Protect”. Do you think this method might help even figure out if that quote is relevant?’
He sighed. ‘This person DI Ward is referring to remembered not only the events they had supressed but a great level of detail.’
My breath caught. ‘Could I do it? If I am really willing to try?’
‘Potentially,’ he said quietly. ‘In fact, I had been thinking the same thing but I’m afraid of the repercussions in light of your state of mind.’ He paused. ‘What I’m saying is, it’s a risk.’
‘OK, but I’m willing to take it.’ Then I had a thought. ‘But how do I know I can trust you? How do I know you won’t tell the detective we’re meeting?’
‘Because,’ he cleared his throat, ‘as I said I have to honour patient confidentiality. However, if I think at any point you are putting yourself or the public at risk, I need to go to the police.’
My heart leapt with joy. Finally, someone I could really trust. ‘Thank you, thank you.’ Tears spilt down my face.
We agreed to meet away from his house in two hours. I came off the phone and scanned the milling crowds of academics and visitors to the library. A quick peek at my watch told me it was mid-morning and clearly everyone had decided to go for coffee at once. As I struggled against the tide of people and made my way back toward the reading room, I felt someone’s eyes on me. Looking back, over my left shoulder, I thought I saw a person in dark clothing move in and out of my peripheral vision. I collected my locker key from beside the computer and headed downstairs to fetch my belongings. Grabbing the duffel bag from the locker, I walked fast out of the library and checked for any unread messages from Jia or Oliver.
There were none and, as I stepped out onto Euston Road, I went to put the phone in my bag when I felt someone collide with my right arm, sending me flying as I crashed heavily against the building wall, falling to the ground.
‘What the …’ I shouted angrily, my mind trying to catch up with what had just happened.
I lifted myself off the pavement, ignoring the pain that tore through my right arm as I scanned the crowds for anyone running or familiar. There was no one.
‘Are you OK?’ A woman was beside me now: she wore a business suit and smelt of expensive perfume. ‘Here’s your bag.’ She handed me the small duffel bag. ‘And your phone.’
The phone was smashed into three or four pieces and I could tell it was broken, never to be fixed. I smiled gratefully, biting back the stinging tears. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘Did you hurt yourself?’ She frowned, waiting for me to check.
‘No,’ I lied, not wanting to show my face should she recognise me.
‘I just saw you suddenly fall to the ground,’ the woman was saying. ‘Like you had blacked out or something.’
‘Someone ran into me.’
‘Oh, do you want me to call someone for you?’
I shook my head, wishing she would go, and checked my bag. I stuffed everything back in: keys, Bethany’s CD, and a dented can of drink.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
Suddenly aware that the woman was waiting for an answer, I forced a smile and took the risk of looking up at her. ‘Fine, thank you.’
I zipped up the bag, my fingers not cooperating as pins and needles set my fingertips on fire. I flinched with the pain and the woman held my arm now.
‘Perhaps I should take you to A&E?’
‘I’m fine,’ I mumbled and hurried off in the opposite direction to where I had been going. After I rounded the corner, I stuffed my broken phone into the outside pocket of my bag and made tentative steps toward the edge of the kerb to hail a cab. It was time to see Darren again. He had said we should meet at his friend’s house. It was too risky for me to return to his. This is when I knew that Darren really was on my side.