S is for Stranger: the gripping psychological thriller you don’t want to miss!. Louise Stone

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ over. My breathing grew shallower and I thought I might faint, I couldn’t think straight.

      I picked up the photos one by one; I couldn’t bear to look at them. Ripping the first photo in half, I stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen. Grabbing a lighter from the odds and ends drawer, I burnt the photo over the kitchen sink, my hands shaking. Bethany’s face smouldered, her face reduced to ashes. I couldn’t watch any longer; it wouldn’t burn fast enough. I set fire to the second photo, watching the glossy paper curl up and shrink, when I suddenly realised I needed to keep it, keep the evidence. I blew hard on the smouldering paper and held the small remnants of the photo. My vision had started to return, the ringing in my ears subsided, and I looked in dismay at what I had done. I needed people to believe me and, yet, I was powerless in the clutches of a panic attack.

      Turning on the tap I washed away any remnants of ash.

      A cold sweat moved over my body, my legs buckling beneath me. I had no idea who it was from but I knew now that this wasn’t a hoax. This was revenge: my past had finally caught up with me and was threatening to drag me backwards to a very dark place.

      I took out my mobile and punched in the detective’s number – off the back of her card – and she picked up on the first ring. ‘It’s me.’ I told her about the photographs.

      I could literally feel her perk up at the end of the phone. ‘OK, great. Don’t touch them any further. I need to get forensics onto them.’

      I was trembling, unable to hold the phone steady. ‘I’ve burnt them.’

      ‘What?’ DI Ward spoke sternly, disbelief flooding the line. ‘Why would you do that, Sophie? I’m trying to help you here.’

      ‘I was scared, I just wanted to be rid of them.’ My voice cracked. ‘I’ve got a piece of one though, and the envelope.’

      She didn’t say anything but after a pause exhaled loudly. ‘Can you put it in a bag for me? Don’t touch it.’ She paused. ‘What do you think about the therapist I told you about? Have you thought about it?’

      ‘Yes, I’ve thought about it and I just think it would be a waste of precious time.’

      She let out a long breath. I could sense her support for me had dramatically waned.

      ‘I’m sorry about the photos.’ A sob rose up and I cried openly now. ‘But I need you believe me that it’s something to do with the night Bethany was murdered.’

      ‘Really?’ She wasn’t convinced. ‘Actually, I think you’re wasting my time. You burn the photos and you tell me you don’t want to see a therapist who might be able to help you. You’re not giving me much.’

      ‘I’m telling you everything I can.’

      She hesitated. ‘Your friend, if you even knew her, committed suicide. I have it on record.’

      ‘But you said, something didn’t look right about it. I don’t know what it is you can see that doesn’t look right but I can assure you it’s not right.’

      ‘Then why not see the therapist?’

      ‘Because therapists don’t believe me.’

      Her silence spoke volumes.

      ‘The only therapist I’ve agreed to see since all those years ago when Bethany died is my AA counsellor, to help me get my child back. I don’t need anyone prying into my past.’

      She didn’t say anything for a second. ‘Why, Sophie? What is it we’re going to find?’ She cleared her throat. ‘We’re doing everything we can to find your daughter but are you?’ Without waiting for my answer, she said, ‘Bye, Sophie.’

      She cut the call and I sat back on the stair, my hands still shaking, and then it began, that fuzzy feeling around my temples. I pushed my forefingers into them, squeezed my eyes shut and willed the feeling to go away. A fleeting image of Bethany snapped through my head, and then her hand with a gun in it, pulling the trigger on herself. I stood up suddenly, willing the image to disappear. How could I know what was the truth if my own mind was so unsure?

CHAPTER 7

      I woke up with a start: drenched in sweat, my fingers kneading the bed sheets. I had seen Amy in my dream. She was five years old again and playing outside with her favourite teddy bear. She had invited me to a tea party. We were to have the sandwiches we had prepared earlier, lemonade and jam tarts for pudding. I was told to arrive at a certain time and to wear a hat. Amy solemnly sat me down at the child-sized table, my legs bunched up in front of me, poured the lemonade and we talked about the weather.

      Daylight shone through the slit in the top of the curtain and my eyes flitted around the room. The reality of my situation hit me hard: it knocked the breath from my lungs. Silent tears gushed onto the pillow. I wanted to dream again: of Amy, of the tea party, her smile.

      I stared up at the ceiling, too afraid to close my eyes should I not be able to picture Amy again.

      ‘Sophie?’ Oliver whispered in the dark.

      ‘Oliver?’ I rolled over. ‘Did you get my note? I’m sorry. I went straight to bed. I was too tired to eat.’

      I heard the door creak as it was pushed open further.

      ‘I could hear you crying.’ The bed sagged as he lay down next to me.

      I put my hand up to my wet cheek. ‘What time is it?’

      ‘It’s almost 8 am. You clearly needed the rest.’

      ‘I didn’t fall asleep until four or so this morning. I was just thinking about Amy,’ I said. ‘And Paul, and his lies.’ He laced his fingers through mine. ‘Oli, I’m scared.’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘I appreciate you being here but maybe it’s best you leave.’ I sat up, my mind thinking back to DI Ward questioning Oliver’s sudden reappearance and let go of his hand. ‘This,’ I gestured to us, ‘it’s the wrong time. I mean I don’t even know why you came looking for me. It feels amazing to suddenly have you back in my life, but I’m too consumed by all this.’

      ‘That’s why you need me here.’ He hesitated. ‘As long as you don’t hold anything back from me.’

      ‘Why did you come back?’ I ignored his question, turned on the bedside lamp and noticed that he too hadn’t slept.

      ‘Because I’ve always loved you and I’ve never stopped thinking about what we could have had.’ He hesitated. ‘You know, if Paul hadn’t come into your life.’

      Oliver had told me his divorce papers had been finalised and he wanted to rewrite history; he had never got over me. I knew he had been insanely jealous of Paul and, before she died, Bethany too.

      He frowned. ‘I found part of a photo on the floor, by the sink. You burnt it in the sink, didn’t you? I saw the lighter on the side. Was it Bethany?’

      ‘Yes.’

      He placed his hands on his thighs.

СКАЧАТЬ