There were a few gasps, whistles and remarks around the room that such a young girl should have so much money, but DS Lane explained that the trust fund had been left in a will by Mrs Fulford’s father and could not to be touched until she was twenty-one. Her current bank account was topped up monthly with five hundred pounds on direct debit by her mother. Most significantly, and alarmingly, there had been no movement in Amy’s current account since her disappearance, but she had made a couple of substantial payments to her father. One, six months ago, for two thousand, and another more recent for one thousand.
Reid drummed his fingers on the tabletop. ‘Any details of wills made by Mr or Mrs Fulford in respect of who the beneficiaries would be for the house and business?’
Lane nodded. ‘Mr Henshaw’s company drew up a will for Mrs Fulford that stated the contents, house and assets all go to Amy should she die, and nothing was left to Marcus.’
‘But if Amy was deceased, also Lena, Daddy could get the lot… could be a motive?’ Reid added, and there were nods of agreement round the room.
Next it was the turn of the officers who had made enquiries along the Fulham Road, at Fulham Broadway Tube station and the bus depot. Due to the football match at Chelsea’s Stamford Bridge stadium, extra buses had been laid on. They had questioned drivers around the time it was believed Amy might have caught a bus, but no one was able to identify her from the photographs. CCTV from all the buses and Tube station entrances had been seized and was still being viewed, but as yet there were no sightings of Amy. They had also seized CCTV from various shops along Amy’s possible route, but none of the shop owners could recall her.
Barbara Burrows raised her hand and announced that there was one possible sighting she had discovered from her enquiries. Everyone sat up to listen with interest.
‘It’s from a security camera from a private house at the end of Harwood Road and taken on the Saturday afternoon Amy went missing. It being close to Fulham Road and the football ground, drunken fans going to or leaving a match sometimes cause damage to cars parked in the residents’ bays outside their houses, and some cars have been broken into. They installed the camera facing towards the street and their Mercedes as a security measure and to identify the culprits.’
Reid leaned forward impatiently. ‘Good work, but is it ready for us to see, Barbara?’ he asked brusquely.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said and all eyes turned to the screen as Barbara inserted the disc into the DVD player.
Although the picture was colour it was poor-quality and a rather grainy image appeared on the large screen. Numerous groups of men wearing bobble hats and scarves were seen passing by on their way to the match. Eventually a slim young girl came into shot and the room fell silent as Barbara hit pause. It was almost too good to be true as the girl stopped right beside the Mercedes and everyone in the room agreed it was Amy Fulford. Now they could see exactly what she was wearing on top of the maroon jumper. It was a bomber jacket in dark leather with a mock fur collar. She wore a mini-skirt, not leggings as they had first believed, and knee-high boots. It was obvious that she must have changed again before leaving the Newmans’ house. Her head was bent down and it looked as if she was texting someone on her mobile. She also had a small shoulder bag and as Barbara pressed play they watched as she put the mobile into her bag and zipped it closed. Suddenly there was a clear shot of her face as she tossed her long blonde hair back, before continuing on her way out of camera shot.
Reid asked Barbara to play the footage again and commented that it was a very important sighting, which they could run on Crime Night and which might produce fresh witnesses.
Another group of officers had been assigned to seize and view CCTV from around Marble Arch and Park Lane. Numerous CCTV and top-level security cameras were positioned in this prestigious area, such as by the Dorchester, the Grosvenor and Marriott hotels and the exclusive car sales garages. There was the possibility Amy had caught a bus as far as Park Lane and then walked to Green Street, but as yet they had not discovered any footage or found anyone who recalled seeing her.
It had been a long day for everyone, and most of them had been on foot for nearly all of it. Reid stood up and said he had made some developments that made for uncomfortable hearing but might possibly shed a different light on the inquiry. According to all the statements from family and staff, their missing girl was described as shy, studious, very naïve and a model teenager with no hang-ups or boyfriends. Reid now elaborated on what had come to light in Marcus Fulford’s flat, from the pornographic videos and magazines to the unpleasant peephole into her father’s bedroom.
The possibility that their missing girl was sexually active, or even being sexually abused, could no longer be ignored.
Chapter 14
Lena had made some toast and heated a bowl of tomato soup for herself and Marcus and carried the tray into the TV room. He looked up briefly from the sofa before skimming over the final section of the journal, which consisted of lists and lists of recipes.
‘They can’t read this,’ he said, depressed and shaken.
She put the tray down but he didn’t feel like eating as the contents of the journal had made him sick to his stomach. She sat on the floor and drew her bowl close, dipping the toast into it and sucking at it.
‘Jesus Christ, Lena, I can’t believe what she has written, it’s disgusting, but I can understand why you thought what you did. You have to believe me, I swear before God that I never had any indication of any of this, it’s appalling – what on earth was going through her mind to write this stuff?’
‘She’s very unflattering about me, about everyone, and I honestly never suspected, never had a clue what she was really feeling. It’s as if she hates me and then there’s what she implies went on with you. How could we both be so incapable of not getting so much as a hint about what she’s been feeling? She’s only fifteen but it’s written like a hardened vicious woman.’
‘Don’t do that,’ he snapped.
‘Do what?’
‘Slurp your fucking soup – you always did it, dipping your toast and sucking it like a kid.’
‘If that is all you have to get uptight about you need to get your act together, because that detective found that pornographic filth at your flat and he is going to have just as many suspicions about you as I had if he reads the journal. I mean, you can tell me that you never had any idea what she was doing, but it doesn’t read that way, and I believe you, I do, I honestly do, but whether or not DI Reid will-’
‘For God’s sake!’ He jumped up, exasperated.
‘Marcus, it reads like you were letting her watch your antics in the bedroom, that you knew she was either in the room or looking through the peephole they’ve found – she’s certainly very graphic, and it was no wonder I thought you’d enjoyed it.’
‘Don’t do this to me, Lena.’ Marcus held himself completely rigid. ‘I swear on my life I had no idea and you implying that I did disgusts me. Please don’t make me feel even worse than I do already. You have to trust me, I need you to trust me, because you and I have to try and fathom out what went wrong, why she’s written this filth.’
Lena finished her soup, and calmly raised her head to meet his eyes. ‘What went wrong is that you left us. That’s the root of our daughter’s problems.’
‘You never had enough time for her – don’t just claim it was because I left, you know we had not been getting along for a long time before I moved out. It was your decision to send her to boarding school, not mine – you were so intent on your business you were hardly ever at home.’