‘Is it bad news, is that why you’re here?’ she demanded, coming to sit on the edge of the sofa next to Marcus.
Reid cleared his throat, as he explained that he had taken some expert advice with regard to their daughter’s journal and felt that it was imperative they should be told of the initial findings.
‘What do you mean by advice?’ Marcus asked.
‘I have spoken with a very reputable psychiatrist about Amy’s journal, and he is of the opinion that Amy is unwell.’
‘I gave you the journal with the promise you would not allow anyone to read it.’
‘Shut up and listen, Lena, please,’ Marcus interjected impatiently.
‘As you noticed yourself, Mrs Fulford, the writing alters numerous times, and I don’t know if you actually read the entire journal because much of it is rather illegible.’
‘I read enough to be concerned,’ Lena said, tight-lipped.
Marcus nodded and said that he had not actually read every page but had scanned some of it.
They were visibly becoming increasingly anxious, leaning towards him expectantly, making what he had to say even more difficult.
‘Okay, the psychiatrist had diagnosed that Amy is suffering from something called DID, which is more commonly known as Multiple Personality Disorder.’
They both leaned back against the sofa cushions in unison. Reid now had their undivided attention as he began to repeat all the information from Professor Cornwall as clearly and simply as possible.
DCI Jackson was led along the corridor to the interview room where waiting inside was Eddie Morris. He had sobered up after drinking three cups of black coffee, and he was now able to answer questions coherently, especially after they’d reassured him that he was not under arrest, but there to assist enquiries relating to Amy Fulford. Jackson looked through the window in the interview-room door, watching the musician adamantly claim he did not know and had never met anyone called Amy Fulford. He was truculent and still argumentative because he insisted they were keeping him from earning his living. Jackson made a good entrance carrying the file with the PhotoFit pictures of Amy. He slammed it down onto the bare table and then drew out a chair to sit facing the greasy-haired Eddie. The musician had spiked black-dyed hair and his face was pallid and unshaven, but he had dark luminous eyes and high cheekbones and his lips were unusually pink.
‘Okay, Eddie, this is what I need from you. We have a witness that saw this girl talking to you.’
He set down the photograph of Amy and tapped it. He continued with the date and time and the location at Hyde Park.
‘See what she’s wearing, a maroon sweater and-’
Eddie interrupted, pushing the photo away. ‘Nope, never saw her, and to be honest if I had I would remember as she’s a looker.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah, I’m sure.’
‘It’s very important, Eddie, because after the sighting of her in Fulham Road we’ve only had this witness to say she was sure she’d seen her talking to you in the Marble Arch underpass. So have another look, son, because if she was in that area then she might have returned to Mayfair and-’
‘No, I’m telling you the truth, for fuck’s sake, and I gave up that patch because of the Romanians hanging around – they bedded down there and it was not a safe place ’cos me money is in me guitar case and twice I got some nicked. They kicked the case over and then pretended to help pick up me money, pocketed most of it, so that’s why I’m doing the Plaza in Kingston, and by you keepin’ me here I’m losin’ out.’
‘Tell me about these Romanians.’
‘I just did – they erected their tents on the island in Park Lane, they got Tesco trollies loaded with bags and their gear, illegal immigrants. Instead of wasting my time you should check those bastards out.’
Jackson gathered up the photographs and files, stacking them like a pack of cards, and then he looked to the uniformed officer at the door.
‘Okay, he can go.’
Jackson tucked the files under his arm. It had been yet another waste of time, but he reckoned before the day was out all hell would break loose when the information from the press conference was made public.
Chapter 30
Reid watched the Fulfords’ reaction carefully as he explained the interim diagnosis of Professor Cornwall. It was excruciatingly painful as they digested the possibility that their daughter was alive, but that an aggressive personality might have taken control of her mind and she might actively seek to harm people mentioned in the journal.
‘Are we to take this professor’s diagnosis at face value, because I find it hard to believe that Amy has taken on another identity. I mean, if this is the truth, does she not know who she is?’ Marcus asked nervously.
‘If, as Cornwall believes, she is suffering from DID, then if a dominant alter takes over her whole being then the real Amy is not aware of it or what she is doing.’
‘Oh my God.’ Lena started shaking.
Reid knew he had to continue. ‘Dissociative Identity Disorder can be linked back to childhood, if there has been a very powerful trauma. It is possible that your decision to divorce may have been the catalyst that forced her into taking on multiple identities.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Marcus said.
‘Each identity will have a separate set of memories. Your separation and the fact that she was placed in boarding school were traumatic for Amy as well.’
Marcus turned to Lena, saying that boarding school had never been his choice. She glared at him.
‘Don’t start trying to put any of this onto me, you can’t blame me. What we should be doing is trying to think back, trying to answer Detective Reid’s question.’
‘What question, for God’s sake? I am at a loss to understand any of this and we don’t even know if she is dead or alive.’ Marcus was nearly losing it. He jumped up from the sofa. ‘If she is suffering from this DID thing I never saw any sign of it. The last time I saw her she was happy-go-lucky and the same as she always was. Now I am supposed to believe she is all these different people and may be living somewhere with a new identity. She is fifteen years old, for God’s sake.’ He was running his hands through his hair, and what interested Reid was that he appeared not to grasp the situation.
Lena yet again was proving to be far more intelligent than her husband and pointed out to him that at no time had she ever demanded Amy’s room be so tidy. ‘Isn’t it more likely that this multiple personality was actually forming with her father?’
Reid did not want to get into a bickering match with regard to who had done what, or who was to blame.
‘It’s important for you both to really try and recall any incident, perhaps going as far back as three or four years old, when Amy had some traumatic experience.’
‘I don’t recall ever being aware of any kind of trauma,’ Marcus said emphatically.
‘Because she hid it, Marcus; for heaven’s sake, sit down and stop pacing around the room.’
‘I am pacing round the room because I don’t recall or remember anything, and don’t start to lecture me-’
‘Don’t be so childish. Sit down and think about it because I sincerely doubt that Detective Reid is asking us about some trivial childish accident. It’s sexual, isn’t it, Inspector?’
She looked directly at Reid; her incredible eyes were over-bright. Marcus slowly sat beside her with an incredulous expression on his face.
‘Yes it may well be,’ Reid said.
‘I can’t believe you’re dredging up that abuse crap again.’
Reid kept his voice low, trying to calm Marcus down, and explained that Dissociative Identity Disorder was frequently a result of sexual abuse as a child.
‘Dear God.’ Marcus leaned back, closing his eyes, and then turned to his wife. ‘How come you know all about this?’
Yet again Lena appeared to be more controlled than her husband.