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

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СКАЧАТЬ Ward gazed at me, her brown eyes steady. She put a hand on my arm. The gesture lacked warmth and made my skin crawl with goose bumps. ‘We start at the beginning. Tell me what happened.’

      ‘I should’ve, you know. I should’ve kept a closer eye on her.’ My words were coming out all garbled and I stopped, took a deep breath, and started again. ‘When I couldn’t see her, I thought maybe she had just wandered off. But, I knew in my heart, she doesn’t do that. She’s such a good child.’ I blew my nose. ‘We had just been chatting, you know?’

      ‘Have you told the missing persons tent?’

      I shook my head, my gaze shifted downward. She quickly removed her arm and started walking in that direction. I got the impression the no-nonsense detective was finding it hard to deal with my tears.

      ‘No,’ I said lamely, jogging to catch up with her. It hadn’t even entered my head.

      ‘Well, Ms Fraiser, it’s always a good place to start. Amy might have headed there herself.’

      ‘Right,’ I said, a woman reprimanded.

      DI Ward led me over to the marquee and addressed the nearest official, a tall girl of no more than nineteen kitted out in jeans and trainers.

      She flashed her ID. ‘This lady’s little girl is missing. Can you put a call out?’ She looked at me. ‘Ms Fraiser, tell her what you know. Where you last saw her.’

      ‘So how old is your daughter?’ the girl prompted me. ‘Why don’t you tell me what she was wearing?’

      ‘Ms Fraiser, the quicker we act, often the better the result,’ DI Ward urged.

      I went to speak but my body had shut down. Inside I was screaming: I shouldn’t be having this conversation. This kind of thing happens on film sets, not in real life. Why was everyone acting so goddamn calm and rational? They wanted me to think straight; but my brain was a fug of emotions and every fibre of my being so taut, I thought I might snap right in half.

      The tears had started to flow again and the detective spoke more softly this time. ‘Ms Fraiser, we all want to find your daughter. You’re going to have to help us out here. What was Amy wearing?’

      I dabbed my nose and eyes before filling the girl in on the details. DI Ward thanked the girl and took me to one side.

      ‘So, I need to ask, your daughter, Amy, is she at risk? For example, does she suffer from any medical conditions?’

      ‘No, she hasn’t got any medical conditions.’ I leant heavily against one of the marquee’s poles and just as quickly straightened up. ‘Course she’s at bloody risk, she’s missing!’ I shoved my shoulders back. ‘I saw someone talking to Amy earlier. A woman.’ She nodded. ‘She was wearing a black coat and I think she might have bribed her with a lolly.’

      ‘How do you know she gave her a lolly?’

      ‘She had one in her hand.’

      ‘So you spoke to Amy after her meeting with this woman?’

      ‘Yes, I saw her talking to her and ran in Amy’s direction. When I did find Amy, the woman had gone.’ I paused. ‘But …’

      ‘But what?’ She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

      ‘Amy told me she hadn’t spoken to anyone.’

      ‘And you’re sure she had definitely spoken with a woman?’

      I squinted at her. ‘Yes, I’m not delusional.’ But even as I spoke, the fuzziness started up, the tingling at my temples. Had I imagined it? ‘I have this feeling I know this woman.’ I looked up. ‘I think she’s come back for me.’

      I held my head in my hands, willing the tingling to go away. I couldn’t have a panic attack now and not after all this time; what if the court found out? Why would they hand me my child if the attacks were back?

      ‘Who, Ms Fraiser?’ When I didn’t answer she said, ‘Are you feeling OK?’

      I looked at her, terrified that the attack would get worse. My hands were trembling, the grass was shifting in front of me. I rammed my hands into my hair and dug my nails into my scalp, willing myself not to black out. The ringing was intensifying in my ears and I could hear my shallow breathing. I needed to control it.

      The detective was behind me now, her hand on my back. ‘I’ll get help.’

      ‘No,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll be fine. Can you just get me a glass of water?’

      She looked at me intently for a moment and nodded before walking off. As soon as she had left I forced my shoulders back and exhaled and inhaled loudly until the ground started to come into focus, the ringing had dimmed and as the DI reappeared, a gust of air cooled the sweat on my face.

      ‘OK?’ She shoved the glass in my direction.

      I nodded.

      ‘OK, what were you saying about the woman?’

      ‘When I was at university,’ I started. My lower lip trembled. ‘I witnessed my friend die. Cold-blooded murder. I think the woman was there but I don’t know, I blacked out at the time. The whole thing was like a dream.’ I paused. ‘A nightmare.’ I shook my head, tried to physically remove the fog that descended every time I thought of that night. A coping mechanism, the Priory therapist Dr Hurst, had said: a way of protecting myself.

      The DI clenched her jaw, started scribbling madly again in her notebook. ‘Why are you relating the two?’ Her eyes bored into me. I could tell her mind was already running my profile through the system: she wouldn’t find anything.

      I leant against the pole again. ‘I don’t know. The woman’s voice was so familiar.’

      ‘You heard her voice?’

      ‘She rang me just before Amy disappeared.’ I bit my lip. ‘Although, why the woman would know my number …’ My voice trailed off. Maybe I was imagining things, maybe it was another trick of my imagination. It wasn’t feasible, was it? ‘No, I don’t know what I’m talking about.’ I paused. ‘But there was something about her voice.’

      The DI’s shoulders visibly tensed. ‘Why do you think Amy said she didn’t speak to a woman?’

      ‘I guess she didn’t want to get into trouble.’

      ‘Maybe she genuinely didn’t?’

      She didn’t have to say it: she thought I was delusional. Maybe I hadn’t seen the woman. Maybe because it’s my birthday, I’m remembering … She died on your birthday twenty years ago. I shook my head hard; I didn’t want to remember. Amy was missing but it has nothing to do with the night Bethany died.

      My heart twisted when I thought how angrily I’d spoken to Amy only a couple of hours ago: I had been worried about her talking to a stranger. I hoped that wherever she was she realised I wasn’t cross with her. Had she run away because she thought I was angry? Had she run away because, as her gaze often told me, she was scared of me? What if there had been no woman and I had accused Amy of СКАЧАТЬ