Twisted (17 page)

‘What was the meeting about on the Monday morning? The school have confirmed they left messages but none were returned.’

Marcus sighed and explained they were at a meeting with their divorce lawyers; he said a Charles Henshaw was Lena’s and he was represented by Jacob Lyons. Reid glanced up at Marcus, saying nothing but acutely aware that Lyons was a well-known and very expensive divorce lawyer who was often in the headlines. For a man who claimed to be on benefits it was a strange choice.

‘Did Amy have any concerns about the forthcoming divorce proceedings?’

‘No, she did not. As I have said repeatedly, we have been apart for about two years and Amy is fully aware we are divorcing. Lena and I had separated and the reason she was sent to boarding school was that it would give her a good strong routine, and as it was only weekly she would be able to spend every other weekend with her mother or myself. If Amy had been finding our weekends difficult to handle she would have told me. Anyway, I am beginning to get really frustrated about this repetition and surely you should be out there looking for my daughter rather than questioning me.’

Reid gave an apologetic nod of his head; Marcus got himself another refill, seething with tension. His hand shook as he poured the scotch – whether he was trying to control his temper or his nerves were run ragged it was hard to tell. Reid closed his notebook, slipped it into his pocket and stood up.

‘I’m sorry if this appears tedious, Mr Fulford, but I am simply doing my job and trying to ascertain what emotional state your daughter might have been in. If she was at all traumatized by the present situation between yourself and your wife it could be a reason that she has run away.’

Marcus banged down the glass. ‘She was perfectly happy, she was showing excellent results at school, she had many friends and behaved like any normal teenager!’

Reid couldn’t help thinking it rather odd that when angered he spoke of his daughter in the past tense.

It was at this point that one of the SOCOs tapped on the door and gestured for Reid to join him in the corridor. After a short private conversation Reid accompanied him to Amy’s bedroom and was met with the sight of loads of evidence bags, mostly filled with underwear and clothes, which were to be removed for forensic examination. However, that was not why he had been asked to join the officers: inside a plastic bag was a selection of hardcore pornographic magazines, which had been discovered under the bed, covered by an old pair of jeans. Numerous X-rated adult VHS videos had also been found in a large shoe box inside the wardrobe. Reid was shocked by the discovery of such explicit material in a fifteen-year-old’s bedroom. He inspected a few copies in distaste and was about to walk from the room when his attention was brought to something else. A poster stuck to the plasterboard wall had been pulled back by one of the officers, revealing a small nail-size hole. Reid looked through it and saw that it gave a direct view to the master bedroom and the king-size bed. The SOCO remarked that the poster was clearly a young girl’s and was maybe used to hide the peephole, and that the various markings of Blu-Tack could suggest that the right side of the poster had been pulled back and replaced. Reid realized that there was also a possibility that Amy had deliberately put the poster up to stop someone looking in from the master bedroom.

Reid closed the door and returned to the living room, perching on the arm of the chair he had previously been sitting in. He wondered if Marcus, who was now silent and subdued, had drunk more scotch as his face was flushed.

‘I need you to agree to the SOCOs searching your bedroom.’

Marcus sighed, shaking his head, and gave an open-handed gesture. ‘Search wherever you want.’

‘Thank you, Mr Fulford. I am going to be straight with you because my men have discovered some disturbing items in Amy’s bedroom and I need you to be honest with me.’

‘What items?’

Reid quietly told him about the selection of hardcore pornography they had found beneath Amy’s bed and in the wardrobe.

‘I don’t believe this.’

‘The tapes are explicit adult porn films. Do you have a VHS video machine?’

Marcus got unsteadily to his feet and ruffled his hair. ‘No, and the tapes are not mine and certainly not my daughter’s. I do not have an old video player, I use DVDs, and you can bloody check the lot because I have never owned a porn film in my life.’

He suddenly clapped his hands and then looked at Reid. ‘I know whose they could be and the tapes have probably been left here for years. As I said, this is not my flat, it’s Simon Boatly’s and he was into all that stuff. I got the DVD and stereo unit along with Sky Plus set up when I moved in.’

‘There’s something else. We discovered what appears to be a peephole between Amy’s and your bedroom.’

Marcus looked surprised. ‘A peephole?’

‘Yes. I looked through it and it gives a direct view to your bed and vice versa into Amy’s room.’

Marcus took a deep breath before shaking his head and slumping down into the leather armchair.

‘Listen, I have no idea about any fucking peephole or how or why it got there; all I do know is I am damned sure that neither Amy nor I would use it, it’s preposterous. You sure it’s not just a crack? There’s enough of them around this place as it’s old and not been decorated for years.’

‘It looks as if it’s been made deliberately, and you can look at it yourself in a minute.’

Marcus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, head bent low. His voice was quieter as he explained how he had moved into the flat and done nothing in the way of decorating in any of the rooms. When it was agreed that Amy could stay weekends she had simply moved into the spare bedroom, and even the bed linen belonged to Simon Boatly. Marcus continued describing Simon, who was in his early forties, single, a photographer who’d been left a considerable amount of money so had never really been forced into legitimate employment. Reid asked where Boatly was now and Marcus, almost inaudible, said he was travelling abroad and he didn’t know when he would be returning to the UK.

By now the two SOCOs were at work in the master bedroom and had removed the bed sheets, pillowcases and quilt cover to check for DNA. As Reid walked in, one of the men joked that it was a bit of a hovel – almost as bad as the daughter’s bedroom – but the DI was not amused. Eager to leave, he glanced at his watch and asked that they show Mr Fulford the items they were removing and get him to sign an inventory. He then went into Amy’s bedroom and as he stood in the doorway staring around he noticed shoved into a corner a small TV set with a built-in video machine.

Marcus needed another drink to calm his nerves. Talking about Simon had set an alarm bell ringing in his brain about the reason Lena had come round the previous night – her suggestion that he had abused their own daughter, telling him about the sexual contents of the journal. If the police were to be shown it they would come to the same conclusion as she had done. Shaking, he knew he had to see Lena as soon as possible because of what Reid had told him. He physically jumped when the officers tapped and entered the room with the plastic evidence bags of the assorted magazines and tapes. He signed an inventory without checking all the items as he felt sick to his stomach.

Reid was coming out of the bedroom as the SOCOs said they were ready to go, and he asked them to list the dates of the magazines and to call or email him later with the details.

Marcus looked shaken as Reid gestured for him to come to Amy’s bedroom. Once inside he pulled the poster to one side so Marcus could see the peephole. He moved closer, bent down and could see into his bedroom.

‘It’s evident from the Blu-Tack marks on the wall that your daughter’s poster was pulled back frequently and there is also a TV set with a video recorder in here.’

‘What are you implying?’ Marcus snapped angrily.

‘That the peephole was used on a regular basis by a person, or persons, who had access to this room. As your friend Mr Boatly has not been here for some considerable time and is abroad I—’

Marcus walked out, his fists clenched as he headed into his own room. ‘It belonged to Simon and I took it out of my bedroom as I bought a small flat-screen TV.’

Reid followed him. Marcus stood beside his unmade bed, the mattress left exposed, and stared towards the wall. Hardly detectable on the floral wallpaper was the peephole from his daughter’s bedroom.

‘I swear before God, I did not know that was there,’ he said in a voice so low it was hardly audible.

Reid headed for the front door. ‘I’ll be in touch, Mr Fulford. Thank you for your time, you’ve been very courteous and I appreciate it. Will you be staying here tonight?’

‘No, I will go and comfort my wife this evening, but my mobile will be on if you have any news,’ a strained-looking Marcus replied.

Reid hurried down the stairs; although there had been some developments as a result of the search they were still no closer to finding where Amy Fulford could be, but it was looking increasingly like the perfect teenager might not have been as naïve as everyone had suggested.

Chapter 12

B
ack at the station Reid realized he was starving. Having told everyone to gather in the briefing room in half an hour for an update, he decided to have a quick sandwich in the canteen. Already seated there having their dinner were DS James Lane and DC Timothy Wey; like their superior both had been busy all day conducting in-depth interviews, but sadly they had no direct information regarding the whereabouts of Amy.

Having grabbed himself a toasted cheese sandwich and coffee Reid headed for an empty corner table as he wanted to go over his notes before the meeting, but no sooner had he sat down than a press officer came up to his table.

‘We’ve got good coverage in the
Evening Standard
and we’ll get the early issues of the morning papers as well, and they’ll all run with the appeal for information about Amy Fulford. I’ve also had a call from the
Crime Night
TV people and have a meeting set up for tomorrow. If you want a reconstruction I’ll need time to get it organized and arrange a lookalike.’

Reid said he would make the decisions after the meeting, hoping they might have more details that would warrant a slot on the show. He took a bite of his sandwich, and asked between mouthfuls if any useful CCTV footage had been recovered. The press officer said that was his responsibility and if his officers found any CCTV of Amy to bring it to him, as the TV people would love it.

Marcus knew he’d had far too much scotch to drive, but felt the two mugs of strong black coffee had sobered him up somewhat. By now he had a five o’clock shadow and was looking scruffy; he’d not even combed his hair and just pulled on an old fleece jacket to see Lena.

By the time he arrived at the house Agnes was long gone. He rang the doorbell, and then, as he had a key, he waited only a few moments before he let himself in. The house was in darkness so he turned on the hall lights and called out for Lena but there was no reply. He swore impatiently, wondering where she was, when he heard the faint sound of laughter from the TV room. He listened at the door and then heard Amy’s voice; it shocked him and for a second he thought she was in the room, but then came the sound of Lena sobbing. He tapped on the door and eased it open. She was sitting curled up on the sofa, and had taken a blanket and wrapped it round herself. She gave him a wretched look and then gestured towards the TV.

‘I’ve been watching all our old home movies. I had to get the video machine out of the garage to play them.’

Although he felt he should go and put his arms around her he hesitated and asked if she would like him to fix a drink. She pointed to an open bottle of wine, and suggested he get himself a glass.

‘I’ve had that detective round at my place all afternoon, along with forensics guys taking Amy’s stuff to be examined. I think they will also want to do the same thing in her bedroom here.’

Lena shivered and hugged the blanket closer. ‘I gave my identical sweater to an officer, it’s apparently what she was wearing when she left the Newmans.’

Marcus came and settled himself beside her as she spoke.

‘I’ve watched all the videos, some of them from when she was just six or seven years old, right up to the time just before she went to boarding school. I was just replaying one earlier of Amy ice-skating at Hampton Court Palace; you were like a lunatic falling over and she was laughing so much she had tears streaming down her cheeks. Anyway, the reason I played it again was because, I mean I might be wrong but . . .’

‘Wrong about what?’ he demanded tensely.

Lena stood up and rewrapped the blanket around her like a cocoon.

‘It’s the way she looks – no, that’s not right, it’s something else, an expression in her eyes. In some of the videos I hadn’t even watched before I noticed she never smiles, or laughs, and there is a hooded look to her. I can’t explain it, but a couple of times when she looks directly into the camera she seems to be angry, and on two occasions she puts her hand up to hide her face, not wanting to be filmed.’

‘How old was she then?’

‘Thirteen, why?’

‘Well she’d have started puberty so was probably just being stroppy – you know, with her hormones . . .’

‘I don’t think it was just that, it was as if something else was disturbing her.’

‘Can you get to the point, Lena, because I need to talk to you about something serious?’

‘I am being serious, for heaven’s sake,’ she snapped, then stood up and started to pace around the room. ‘Looking at the videos, and seeing the change in her manner, it could be something happened to her, something that neither you nor I were even aware of – do you understand what I’m saying?’

He reached out, took her hand and drew her in to sit beside him. ‘Please just keep quiet for a few minutes and let me tell you why I’m here.’

‘But it’s important – don’t you understand what I am trying to tell you?’

‘Yes I do, but what you’re thinking about her change in behaviour may be more recent.’