The taxi driver let out a low whistle as we drove up to the large Regency house.
‘Nice pile,’ he murmured. ‘You live here?’
I shook my head. ‘No. Just a friend.’
He grinned at me in his rear-view mirror. ‘That’s the kind of friend you want to keep on side.’ He glanced at the meter. ‘That’ll be nineteen-fifty then, love.’
I nodded, took out my wallet and handed him a twenty. ‘Keep the change.’
‘Much appreciated,’ he said in his East London accent. ‘You’ll be wanting a receipt?’
‘No, you’re all right.’ I started to climb out of the car.
‘You’re the lady off the telly, aren’t you?’ He turned in his seat now to get a proper look. He flashed me an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, I recognised you a while back but didn’t think it my place to say anything. Do they think they’re going to find your daughter?’
I nodded fast. ‘They’re very positive.’ I was lying: what did I know? It had been over twenty-four hours since I had spoken to DI Ward.
Once I was out of the car, he wished me luck and sped off down the quiet road. I turned and stared up at the doctor’s friend’s house, suddenly aware that the police might jump out and arrest me. Arrest me, I thought ironically, for looking for my daughter. I basically trusted Darren but, at the end of the day, he was employed by the police.
I dragged my feet up the steps, the pain in my right arm had become unbearable and it was slowing me down. Ringing the doorbell, I looked around me. I thought I was doing well as a lawyer, but this was another echelon of society altogether.
The door opened and I fully expected to be faced with a butler.
‘Sophie,’ Darren said. ‘Am I glad to see you.’ He took me in a firm embrace; more intimate than we had ever been previously as doctor and patient. It was strange to see him in his jeans and T-shirt in the context of this house, he suited his arty terrace much more. ‘How are you?’ He held me at arm’s length and I must have flinched in pain. ‘Sophie, oh dear, are you hurt?’
‘Yes, it’s my arm.’ I explained the incident outside the library.
‘Well, come through.’ He smiled gently. ‘Come through. My friend’s a Harley Street doctor, said we could use his pad. Didn’t ask any questions.’
I nodded and followed Darren through to a large sitting room off to the left. The fire was lit and a large lamp in the corner was on. The warmth was inviting and I allowed Darren to take my coat. He carefully peeled it from my body so as not to cause me further pain. Minutes later, he came back with painkillers and an icepack.
‘I know it’s probably the last thing you want to be doing in this cold weather, but honestly, it’ll help with any swelling. I’ve got his cleaner onto tea-making duties.’
Pushing my sleeve up, I placed the icepack on the top of my right arm. A gentle knock at the door and Darren stood up.
I leapt up from the sofa, my heart beating faster. I fully expected DI Ward to walk through the door.
‘Hello,’ she introduced herself, ‘I’m Patrick’s cleaner.’ She put a tray down on the ottoman. We waited for her to leave, closing the door behind her before either of us spoke. If she recognised me, she didn’t show it.
‘So, has the DI been in touch again?’
‘Yes. She came to my house and, well,’ he paused, ‘she asked me if I had spoken to you today.’
‘And?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I told her about patient confidentiality, but you have to understand that will only work for a while. Your daughter is missing. Technically, there’s a life at risk here and if I feel you or your daughter’s in danger, or any other member of the public, I’ll be forced to disclose everything you’ve told me so far.’
I nodded, took a sip of tea. ‘Please, Darren, I don’t have much time. Tell me what you think we can do.’
He exhaled loudly. ‘OK, as I say, I think we should have one final go at exposure therapy.’
‘OK.’ I edged forward on the sofa. ‘Do you think I’m capable?’
‘Yes, but as I said, I’m wary of the repercussions.’ He furrowed his brows. ‘Most significantly you could suffer hallucinations, imagine things. Perhaps in light of your medical history, this might be a greater risk for you.’
‘I will do anything to find Amy,’ I said firmly.
‘OK.’ He picked up a file sat on the table next to him. ‘I can show you the study if you like.’
‘No offence, I don’t have time to be reading the terms and conditions.’
He pursed his lips, bunched his fist. ‘It’s about taking you back to that night, true age regression, so that you will feel and hear what you felt. We make a connection between the recent trauma, Amy going missing, with the past trauma of Bethany dying.’
‘Would it explain then why, when we were back at the site of the fairground, I remembered hearing another woman’s voice calling my name at the fair?’
‘Yes, exactly. Although, I would say that the level of recollection you will have reached that day, with me, might not have been enough to re-experience that night. The voices,’ he hesitated, trying to explain, ‘might not actually have been real. Your mind is substituting one thing for another. Your mind was as near as it could get to what you actually heard, but that’s not to say that the fact that your mind chose bells as the substitute is not meaningful. You could have been reaching further back to a memory of something someone’s told you.’ He paused. ‘Like Bethany.’ He was tapping his foot now, I counted every third tap. ‘OK,’ he said, clearly now fizzling with energy, ‘you mentioned the bracelet on the phone. You said you found it in your pocket after the night Bethany died. Maybe the bracelet is Bethany’s and the quote on it might be resonating with you in some way we can explore further.’
‘What do I do?’
‘Lie over here. I’m going to talk to you but the most important thing, Sophie, for this to work is you have to be willing.’
‘Of course I’m willing! I want my child back. I’ll do anything.’
He nodded. ‘It’s just when we started these sessions you were reticent, I need you to open your mind up fully. Remember why you’re doing it.’
‘Darren,’ I said as lay on the sofa, ‘I have to find my daughter in a few hours or she dies. I will do anything. I think I can remember more about that night where I got angry with Bethany. You know that I told you about last time?’
He nodded and with that, I settled back on the sofa, closed my eyes and listened to him talking. He started to paint a scene. It wasn’t a scene I knew and yet it was strangely familiar.
‘OK, Sophie, on the count of three I want you to tell me where you are.’
‘I’m in a taxi and it drops us off at the end of a long drive.’
‘Who are you with?’
‘Bethany.’
‘Can you tell me what you can smell, what you can hear?’
‘The taxi smells dusty mingled with Bethany’s perfume.’
‘Does the taxi driver have any music on?’
‘Yes, there’s some classical music on low. I don’t recognise it.’
I became aware that Darren had started up some very quiet music.
‘OK, continue, Sophie.’
‘We get out of the taxi and we start walking toward a huge house. I remember thinking that it’s now eerily quiet, no one around. Just us.’
Darren stops the music.
‘Is it cold?’
‘Freezing. I’m shivering.’
‘Are you in the countryside?’
‘Yes, in the middle of nowhere, near Aberystwyth.’
‘How do you feel?’
‘I remember feeling sick inside, like something bad is going to happen.’ I swallowed. ‘We’re arguing. I don’t want to go any further but Bethany tells me it’s the last time. I hate her in that moment for having this power over me.’
‘OK, does someone greet you at the door?’
My heart started to pound faster as I remembered his face. Darren must have sensed me starting to panic.
‘Keep as calm as you can, Sophie. It will help keep your mind open.’
I took a deep breath. ‘He was the diplomat, the man hosting the party.’ Involuntarily, I put my hand to my cheek. ‘It’s suddenly much warmer.’
‘Why, Sophie?’
‘We’ve passed a room with a fire.’
‘Do you go into that room?’
‘No, he leads us upstairs and then – then …’
‘Sophie, you are safe here, keep your mind open.’
‘There are businessmen. Five, I think. Sitting in a semi-circle around the bed.’
‘Why are they there?’
‘To watch us.’
‘Watch you?’
‘Yes.’ My breathing quickens. ‘I didn’t know it would be like this. We were asked to bring handcuffs, but I didn’t know. Then the door was locked.’ I let out a sob. ‘We were trapped.’
‘Sophie, shhh, you’re doing well.’
I sensed Darren was nearer me now. ‘What happens next?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Try. I know it’s hard but do try.’
‘We snort some coke, I think. And drink.’
‘How does that make you feel?’
‘Light-headed. Sick.’
‘OK, and then …’
‘I don’t remember what we did. I really don’t.’
‘Sophie, you’re doing so well, keep going as long as you can.’
‘There’s a woman in the room.’
‘No, another woman.’
‘Who is she? Who is the woman?’
‘I don’t know! She’s really familiar, but I don’t know.’
‘OK.’
‘She has a gun and a knife. She …’
‘You’re doing well, keep going.’
‘I’m screaming. Telling her no. Don’t do it. I knock her arms out of the way, try and get the gun, but she’s determined.’
‘She has shot your friend? Sophie, has this woman shot your friend?’
‘Yes. Yes. Yes. Bethany’s head bounced backward.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m falling. Falling.’
‘Where?’
‘To the ground.’
‘Anything else, Sophie? What does “To love is to protect” mean, Sophie?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘Try, dig deeper, let your mind go.’
‘The woman, she kept saying it, the woman who killed Bethany.’
‘So, the bracelet belongs to the killer?’
‘Yes. No … I don’t know! I thought it was Bethany’s. Maybe the killer knew about the bracelet.’
I sat bolt upright, a shadowy, forgotten memory attempting to push its way to the forefront of my mind.
‘Sophie,’ Darren was by my side now, ‘are you OK? Here’s a tissue.’
I hadn’t even realised I was crying. Hot, furious tears cascaded down my cheeks. ‘I feel like the answer is so obvious. Just then … I almost remembered something, something that I know is so important. But, just like that, the thought had disappeared.’
Darren nodded gravely. ‘I can understand that. Your mind automatically shuts out pain, grief, anxiety and in order to remember, you need to open your mind even further.’
I blinked. ‘How do I do that?’
‘The only way,’ he took my hand, ‘is to face your fears.’
‘You make it sound so easy.’ I withdrew my hand and twisted the tissue round and round into a tight knot.
‘It’s not easy. But your greatest fear is also your greatest strength.’
I smiled weakly. ‘That’s deep.’
He patted me on the hand. ‘Your greatest fear is losing your daughter?’
‘Of course.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes, feeling like I know the woman who killed Bethany. How I can get so close to remembering.’
Darren considered this for a minute. ‘Well, maybe until you allow your mind to face the fear of finding out exactly that, we won’t be able to go any further.’
I was about to ask him how I go about getting over that fear when Darren’s phone rang. He looked at me, his eyes not leaving mine as he answered.
‘Yes, OK,’ he said to the caller. ‘Yes.’
The one-word answers and I knew who he was talking to: the police. I ran for the door and out onto the street. I didn’t look back once.