Twisted

Chapter 16

Marcus attempted yet another call to Lena, but the landline had been engaged for hours and Lena’s mobile went to voicemail. Frustrated and extremely anxious, he decided he would drive over to the house.

Marcus found Lena holed up in her bedroom. ‘What the hell is going on, Lena? I’ve been trying to contact you all morning.’

‘The phones have been ringing here since eight o’clock and I’m at breaking point!’ she shouted.

He sat her down on the bed. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, and I shouldn’t have had a go at you. Tell me everything that’s happened, but slowly and calmly please.’

Lena told him about the search in the house, the cadaver dog and the video she’d discovered of Amy masturbating. Visibly shocked, he protested that she should have shown it to him the previous evening. Again she became angry, insisting that at first she had not really taken in what Amy was doing but had shown it to Detective Reid as she felt it was important he should know. Marcus was totally taken aback and almost in tears.

‘How could you do that without first consulting me about it?’

‘Consulting you? What the hell is the matter with you? Amy was naked and masturbating!’

‘I never filmed that – dear God, that bloody detective is bound to think it was me.’

‘I told him it was me filming and it was accidental.’

‘What fucking else did you tell him that I don’t know about?’

She clenched her fists. ‘Maybe if you would just think about it for a second you’d see what I mean. For Amy to behave like that, someone must have been abusing her while we were on holiday.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous; you’re jumping to conclusions, and besides, she’s a teenager who wasn’t expecting you to walk in with a camera.’

‘Stop making excuses, Marcus.’

‘Excuses for what – your wild imagination?’

Lena paused and stared at him accusingly. ‘Was it you abusing her?’

He had to stop himself from slapping her face and shaking some sense into her. He stood up and moved away, knowing he had already been unable to control himself once before, and he didn’t want to hit her again as it was so against his nature.

‘Was it you, Marcus?’ she asked in a distressed voice.

‘No, I have never touched Amy improperly in my life. Even the suggestion makes me feel sick,’ he said, sinking into a wing-back chair by the window.

‘Reid has asked me to make a list of everyone from the Antigua holiday. Last night we both agreed that her behaviour in the Antigua video was different – she’s aggressive, and not like her normal self. I even tried to talk to you about it after the holiday, but when we returned you said you needed to have some bloody space, and moved out.’

‘Don’t try and put the blame onto me, Lena. You know full well that before we even went to Antigua we were hardly speaking. Maybe that was why Amy was different and looked so miserable – because of us.’

She put her head in her hands and started to cry. He sat there watching her, at a loss not only as to how to comfort her, but how to face the fact that their daughter might have been sexually abused and neither of them had been aware of it owing to their own emotional problems. At last he got up and went to her side, putting his arms around her.

‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s think this through together. Even if we come up with someone, the reality is Amy’s gone missing two years later and it might have nothing to do with Antigua, but we need to really think long and hard about whose names we should give to the police.’

He rocked her gently in his arms as he looked over to her bedside cabinet. ‘Are you taking your medication?’

‘Yes.’

He reached across to look at the label on the sleeping tablets.

‘You shouldn’t take these on a regular basis.’

‘I need them to get some sleep.’

‘Are you still seeing your therapist?’

‘Yes.’

He stroked her hair. ‘Do you want me to ask her to come over?’

‘No, I don’t want to see anyone.’

There was a light tap on the door; it was DC Burrows, asking if Marcus would ring the station if he intended leaving.

‘Is there some news?’ he asked anxiously.

‘I’m afraid not, but DI Reid wants to see you. He may be coming back to the house later or perhaps you would call him. Mrs Fulford, I have made a list of all your personal calls in case you want to ring back, and your answer machine for your business line is full, so I think you should perhaps check those messages and delete some, because when they can’t get through they call on your private line.’

Lena sat up as Marcus took the list from Burrows and passed it to her. ‘Come on, it’s best you do something. I’ll come into your office with you and we can go through them together.’

Lena slowly swung her legs down from the bed, though her head was throbbing and she felt drained of energy.

‘Agnes wanted me to ask if you would like her to prepare lunch?’ Burrows added.

Marcus said he wouldn’t mind a sandwich, but Lena said she wasn’t hungry. Burrows noticed how attentive he was, helping Lena stand up and fussing around her. He fetched her hairbrush and was gently brushing her hair while she stood in front of the dressing table as Burrows closed the door.

‘We’ve also got to talk to our solicitors. Jacob Lyons was on the phone this morning – at least he had the grace to ask about Amy – but basically he wants to know when your bloke Henshaw is going to contact him.’

She turned towards him. ‘How can you even think about this right now? You disgust me. Is that why you’ve come round and why you are acting all loving and caring, when basically you are here because you want a divorce settlement agreed?’

‘For pity’s sake, Lena, I just told you that Lyons called me. Whatever happens we will have to agree to some settlement; right now I can’t even cover the rent at Simon’s place.’

‘Simon? Simon Boatly? I remember now, he was in Antigua when we were there. Do you remember he was on somebody or other’s yacht and came over to the hotel and we all had dinner together?’

Marcus sighed impatiently, dismissing any suspicion of Simon, but Lena pursed her lips and, striding out of the bedroom, said that she was going to include him on the list for DI Reid.

Marcus followed Lena into her office as she began to play the messages on her business answer phone. Call after call was querying deliveries and payments, and then there were the repeated enquiries from her staff about Amy. Lena stood pressing delete, delete, and then listened to Gail Summers asking for the details of three children’s parties and for her to confirm addresses and times.

‘Christ, you’d think she’d have enough sense to look in the order book – it’s all in there.’

‘Why don’t you just call and tell her,’ Marcus suggested, leaning on the doorframe, as Lena continued deleting messages. One of the delivery drivers was off sick, so had not come into work, and Marcus watched as she became angry, swearing at their incompetence, before eventually she went to her computer and began to email instructions. He’d always admired how fast she could use a keyboard and he could see the distraction was beginning to calm her. Even though irritated by the slew of queries, she proceeded to work through them.

Marcus finally left her working and went downstairs into the kitchen, where Agnes had a coffee and toasted cheese sandwiches set out on the kitchen table for him. Burrows was still dealing with the phones but thankfully they had been silent for a while. She hesitated when Marcus invited her to join him, unsure about sitting with him.

‘Come on, sit down, Agnes can take over the calls. Please.’ He gestured to a chair.

‘Would you like tomato ketchup, Barbara?’ Agnes asked as she set a place for her.

Marcus squirted out some HP Sauce, noticing how Agnes, within minutes of meeting anyone, always used their Christian name. It used to annoy Lena, but it never really bothered him, although he was the exception – she never called him by his Christian name. She was bustling around the kitchen and obviously listening in to their conversation as he turned on the charm and asked Barbara how long she had worked for the police. Burrows, slightly ill at ease, explained that she had recently finished her two years’ uniform probation before going on missing persons and hoped eventually to become a full detective and work on the murder squad.

Marcus asked if she had ever been on a missing person’s case before and she admitted that their daughter was the first. The atmosphere grew tense as she attempted to explain how the police structured their enquiries – small children were always a high risk, but very often teenagers were quickly traced and the reason why they had absconded was uncovered.

‘What reasons?’ Marcus asked.

Burrows sipped her coffee, hardly touching her toasted sandwich and wishing she had not agreed to sit with him. She mentioned that exam results, boyfriends, drugs and abuse were factors.

‘What, sexual abuse?’ he asked, finishing his sandwich.

‘Yes, not just sexual but physical abuse; sometimes there are mental issues; very often though it is connected to schooling, failure, bullying. So we have to take everything into consideration.’

She stood up, wiping her lips with the napkin, and asked where the bathroom was. Marcus out of manners half rose from his chair as Agnes directed ‘Barbara’ to the downstairs cloakroom. He then drained his coffee cup and crossed to use the phone. ‘Have you got the number of the local police station, Agnes?’

Agnes, organized as ever, showed him the station number and DI Reid’s mobile.

‘I’ll make the call in the sitting room,’ he said, walking out.

Reid had just arrived at the forensic labs in Lambeth when Marcus rang his mobile, which made any immediate conversation difficult. Marcus agreed to wait at the house until Reid was free, and finishing the call stretched out on the sofa and closed his eyes. He recalled the time they had been in Antigua, specifically when Simon Boatly had appeared. With sun-bleached blond hair, tanned and wearing shorts and a T-shirt and rubber flip-flops, he had surprised them by strolling up the beach towards their cabana. Simon was a well-educated Old Etonian and Oxford graduate with a BA in Philosophy and was at the university at the same time as Lena, who studied Biological Sciences. Marcus had attended the local polytechnic where he had studied Design Graphics and had first met Lena in a pub in Oxford city centre. He met Simon in a squash competition against the University and they instantly became good friends and enjoyed each other’s company, but there was always the difference in their backgrounds. Simon had money, having inherited a lot when his parents died, including a villa in Italy, a manor house in Henley and the Mayfair flat on his aunt’s death. Although years went by when neither made contact, when they did meet up and renewed their friendship it was as relaxed as if they’d never been apart. Before the separation and Simon’s travels abroad, they had seen a considerable amount of each other, both being keen squash players with membership of the Queen’s Club. Simon had never married and appeared to have no intention of settling down as he continued his laid-back easy-going life. Although he called himself a photographer, there was no need for him to ever have gainful employment, as his inheritance was invested and he lived off the interest. When Marcus, after a strenuous game of squash, had bemoaned his marital situation, Simon had without hesitation offered him the use of his Mayfair flat.

Mulling the Antigua holiday over in his mind, Marcus couldn’t recall Simon ever being alone with Amy. He was certain that Simon would not in any way have, as Lena had insinuated, been abusive towards the girl. That one time when he had appeared like the Sun King strolling along the beach, he had seemed to be as surprised as Marcus to discover they were there.

Marcus swung his legs down from the sofa and rested his elbows on his knees. Amy had visited the yacht with him, but only for a very short time because they’d returned to their hotel for lunch. Simon had been his usual witty self, and after about an hour went off on a speedboat, waving to them as he left. He and his crew were going to a different beach to water-ski, as the hotel did not have any speedboats, nor for that matter did it approve of the disruption of the boats’ high-powered noisy engines.

That was the extent of the encounter. Marcus was certain that no way could Simon Boatly have had any interaction with Amy that either he or Lena were not privy to. He was determined that his name would not be tarnished by Lena as he was a very valued friend.

The forensic scientists were still working hard in the lab as Reid walked along the trestle table with the young assistant, surveying the items removed from Marcus Fulford’s flat. The table was covered in white sterile paper sheets, on top of which were at least ten pairs of ladies’ underwear of different styles and colours. There were also separate bagged sheets and pillowcases from Marcus’s and Amy’s bedrooms. The assistant carried a clipboard, pointing out and checking off the tagged items they had been working on.

The assistant suddenly laughed out loud. ‘The end of that thing reminds me of an ice-cream whip,’ he said, pointing to a skin-coloured vibrator in the shape of a very large penis.

Reid did not find it amusing, just distasteful. ‘Who’s in charge so I can discuss your results so far?’

The assistant moved off to a side room and a man in a white lab coat came out and introduced himself. He was in his mid-thirties, dark-haired, slim and had a warm welcoming smile.

‘I’m Pete Jenkins, the lead scientist on this case. Thanks for coming in, DI Reid. I’ll deal with the bad news first: unfortunately we haven’t been able to raise a DNA profile for Amy from the toothbrushes you recovered.’

‘What, none of them?’ Reid asked, rather surprised.

‘It’s not uncommon as it looks like Amy gives her toothbrush a good clean after she uses it.’

‘What about blood from the used sanitary towel?’

‘Too old, decay and bacteria have destroyed any chance of DNA. However, we are trying to raise a profile from hairs removed from the hairbrush found in the bedroom at her father’s flat, but this process takes more time. We need a full profile for Amy to compare against the various female profiles recovered and obtained from vaginal secretions on some of the underwear found in her Mayfair bedroom.’

Reid was intrigued. ‘Various female profiles?’

‘Yes, we have managed to raise profiles on some of the underwear and they must have been worn by different women.’

‘What, like they were sharing them?’

Jenkins laughed. ‘No, there were no mixed female profiles on any underwear. The DNA indicates each individual pair has been worn by one woman, but there’s so far no match to any known profiles on the criminal DNA database.’

Reid didn’t quite know what to make of this, but felt slightly relieved when told there were no semen stains on Amy’s bed linen, although there were urine stains and unpleasant patches of faeces, and the blood on the mattress was menstrual.

Pete Jenkins continued. ‘Marcus Fulford’s bed linen was covered in semen and vaginal stains, as well as pubic hairs which are also yet to be tested for a profile.’

Reid smiled. ‘That doesn’t surprise me as it appears Mr Fulford is quite a womanizer.’

‘Well it’s reasonable to assume the semen stains are from Mr Fulford, but we urgently need a DNA sample from him for comparison. We also found a number of strands of hair on his bed that didn’t match in colour the hairs taken from Amy’s hairbrush.’

‘They may belong to Fulford’s girlfriend Justine.’

Jenkins frowned. ‘Or one of the unknown women whose underwear we have. We urgently need a DNA sample from every woman Marcus Fulford recently had sex with.’

Reid felt embarrassed at his lack of forethought. ‘It’s possible Amy had borrowed underwear from school friends, or they accidently left them behind after a sleepover at her father’s flat.

Jenkins’ frown deepened. ‘Big question then is why, and how, did they come to be in Amy’s room?’

‘Only Amy can answer that,’ Reid said but wondered to himself if Amy was keeping them as evidence against her father or to show her mother as proof of her father’s sexual exploits.

Jenkins continued. ‘The DNA from the semen stains on Mr Fulford’s bed linen matched semen stains recovered from some of the underwear in Amy’s room. The semen on the underwear probably got there as a result of seepage after sex. Assuming the semen on the bed linen is Mr Fulford’s then it’s reasonable to assume he had sex with the wearers of the ladies’ panties.’

Reid was stunned, and although finding it hard to follow the forensic data, he understood the implication. ‘So his semen is on Amy’s panties?’

‘I can’t obviously say a hundred per cent yes as I need to raise Amy’s DNA profile. If it is her profile and his semen then it’s reasonable to assume he was abusing his daughter.’

Reid looked sad. ‘To be honest, I already had my suspicions, but I doubted myself. Hearing what you just said puts a whole new perspective on the investigation and one that will cause Mrs Fulford unbelievable distress.’

‘I deal with fact and draw conclusions from the forensic evidence for the police and courts. I don’t envy your job in having to tell victims my findings.’

‘Will you call me as soon as you have anything further?’

‘Certainly, but above all I need DNA samples from suspects and witnesses for comparison and to confirm, or refute, my suspicions.’

Pete Jenkins went over to a large cabinet, opened it and removed a bag full of DNA sample kits, which he handed to Reid.

‘If you need more ring me or get some from your station supplies,’ Jenkins said, paused and then smiled at Reid, who looked despondent. ‘With the amount of seminal fluid we found I can say you’re looking for a suspect who ejaculates enough to fill a whole sperm bank at an IVF clinic!’