Somebody's Daughter

by Carol Wyer

  ‘You get on well?’

  ‘She helped me after my split from my partner. She looks after me, cooks for me, and we like a lot of the same sort of stuff, and we chat a lot. Yeah, we get on well. I didn’t twig she was Amelia’s mum when I first came to see about the room. She told me after I moved in. You know, she talks about her a lot. She’s always hoped Amelia would come home. The police officer in charge of the search told her a lot of runaways come back, and she’s been clinging onto the belief Amelia would return. She’s kept her bedroom ready for her. She cleans it every week when she does mine.’

  ‘You don’t live in Amelia’s room?’

  ‘No, I’m upstairs in what was Vicki and Ray’s bedroom, and Vicki sleeps in the next room along from here. It used to be a dining room.’ He jerked his thumb towards the wall to indicate the bedroom was behind it.

  ‘You never thought to mention this young man to her?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was helpful. I didn’t even think it was relevant. I thought she’d run away because of her dad hitting her, not because of some bloke. She didn’t mention anyone in her letter. Vicki read it to me,’ he added, presuming Natalie was about to ask how he knew what was in the letter.

  ‘Did you think Amelia would come back?’

  He shrugged. ‘No. I’d hoped she’d return… for Vicki’s sake.’

  ‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’

  ‘I can’t think of anything else.’

  ‘It’s procedure that I ask where you were today.’

  ‘I was at work. We took delivery of a large order this morning and I spent all day unpacking it and putting stock out on shelves. You can check with my manager.’ He gave her details of who to contact. ‘Shall I leave you to talk to Vicki alone now?’

  ‘Yes, but don’t leave the house yet.’

  ‘I’ll be in my room.’

  Natalie made her way back into the sitting room, where both women were now sat on the settee, side by side. Vicki had calmed a little and wiped her face with a tissue. Lucy handed Vicki the mug of tea. ‘Here, drink this.’

  Vicki obeyed, cupping her hands around the mug and staring at Lucy with wide eyes. After she’d swallowed the liquid, she said, ‘I wish she’d talked to me, rung me, or even come and found me at the care home. I’d have stopped her. She needed help not punishing, and now… it’s too late.’

  ‘Did she take her mobile with her?’ asked Natalie.

  ‘No. Ray took a hammer to it – smashed it into pieces and threw it out. He was disgusted about a naked selfie she’d sent to a boy.’

  ‘Which boy?’

  ‘There was no name, only a stupid nickname – Hard Man. It was a knee-jerk reaction that, with hindsight, turned out to be a stupid one. It ate away at him, the questions he ought to have asked, the conversation he should have had with her, rather than the anger he displayed.’

  ‘Did the team handling her disappearance ask for the phone?’

  ‘They took it with them for examination but couldn’t extract anything from it. If we’d been able to access the information on the phone, we might have had an idea of her whereabouts or intentions. Ray wasn’t to know she would run away. He thought we’d deal with the situation the following day and only wanted to teach her a lesson…’

  ‘Did Amelia ever mention anyone called Tommy?’ asked Natalie.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was this person, “Hard Man”, her boyfriend?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. Ray didn’t either. I was surprised she’d been messaging a boy, especially photos of herself. She’d shown no interest in anyone or anything after Tabitha died.’

  Natalie gave a small nod. ‘Would it be possible for us to take a look inside Amelia’s room?’

  ‘It’s through that door. The second room on the right.’

  As Lucy and Natalie slipped from the sitting room into a corridor, Lucy commented on Ray’s actions. ‘It strikes me as excessive to smash her mobile to pieces. I’d have confiscated it and locked it away.’

  ‘People act in all sorts of ways when they’re angry. It obviously ate into him and made him dreadfully unhappy – so unhappy he took his own life. Dylan told me he saw her outside the off-licence with a twenty-four-year-old called Tommy – tall, skinny, wild hair, ear piecing. She kissed him on the cheek.’

  ‘Sounds like the bloke the tattooist, India, described to Murray, the one who paid for Amelia’s piercings. Maybe she didn’t run away solely on account of her dad hitting her. Too late to tell Ray he wasn’t to blame now, isn’t it?’

  Natalie nodded. Life could be shit at times. The second door on the right was ajar and they stood inside Amelia’s bedroom, trying to establish what sort of girl she had been. The room hinted at artistic and adult: a blue star-shaped light above a small double bed, placed directly in front of a window covered by a blind. The décor was dark: deep purple walls, the bedspread brown and cream with matching pillows, and a patterned curtain with deep red circles and brown scrawls covering the left wall. The right-hand side of the room was filled by a set of drawers, leaving little space for any artwork to be displayed, but Amelia had hung a painting that started as peacock blue at the top and descended into indigo at the base. Porcelain pots and a china cat with large eyes had been arranged on top of the long cabinet, along with a pillar candle in a glass jar and a cinema light box: ‘Sweet Dreams Baby’. A blue rug was next to it on the floor, along with a pair of furry Grumpy Cat slippers. An angle lamp was on a bedside table, along with a couple of magazines. It was tidy – too tidy in Natalie’s mind. She couldn’t imagine any teenager keeping their room this way – certainly Leigh’s room had always looked like a whirlwind had passed through it. Undoubtedly, Vicki had cleaned it in preparation for her daughter’s return.

  Lucy drew back the curtains and unveiled open-fronted cupboards, housing outfits on hangers and shoes and jumpers folded into piles on shelves. Half of it was occupied by an in-built workstation. Amelia’s textbooks and folders were arranged on a shelf and her schoolbag placed in the space below the desk. Natalie glanced in the top drawers, where socks, bras and knickers had been folded – no doubt Vicki’s work. Other drawers contained pens, personal bits and pieces, jewellery, nail varnish, perfume, make-up, scrunchies and other hair accessories. Natalie had seen enough. It was most likely Amelia had gone to Samford with Tommy. There was little more she and Lucy could glean by being here. ‘Did she have a laptop?’

  ‘No. They didn’t own a computer or iPad. I was under the impression money was tight and she used the ones at school. I’ll try and get the names of some of her friends and see if they can shed any light on why she headed to Samford,’ said Lucy, looking through the outfits on hangers. The doorbell rang and Lucy peered out of the window. ‘I think the liaison officer might have arrived. We’ll leave them to it.’

  Natalie took one last look at the room. Her eyes fell on a soft plush elephant wearing a pink ribbon. It was obviously a well-loved stuffed toy yet Amelia hadn’t taken it with her. The thought saddened Natalie.

  Chapter Four

  Friday, 1 November – Evening

  It was quarter past nine when Natalie and Lucy arrived back at Holborn House and headed for Lucy’s glass-fronted office overlooking the main room, from which she could observe her team, working at individual stations. It was a world apart from their old workplace. This room was spacious, square in design, with two large windows, each containing sixteen individual panes of glass that looked out across an enclosed garden. The colour scheme was de rigueur – walls painted pale olive, overhead cupboards, drawers and ergonomically designed swivel chairs all in charcoal grey – broken only by the orange wooden surfaces of the tables. Six individual stations with flat-screen computers were positioned against three of the four walls. In the middle of the room stood an oval-shaped grey desk, complete with orange top and two wide chairs facing each other. Lucy’s office contained similar grey and orange furniture, a smaller version of this one, but she didn’t walk to it; in
stead, she offered Natalie one of the chairs in the centre of the room and addressed Murray and PC Ian Jarvis, who were working at desks in front of the windows – the two prime spots.

  ‘Where’s everyone else?’

  Murray spun around to answer. A mug of tea was steaming on his desk. ‘Still out canvassing. The upstairs crew are performing their technological wizardry. They’re hunting through CCTV footage.’

  The unit’s technical advisors and support, experts in their fields, generally remained in the offices on the top floor, surrounded by up-to-the-minute equipment.

  Ian turned around. ‘I’ve been searching through Amelia’s social media accounts and could only find activity on Facebook.’ Natalie was pleased to see he was looking less thin and drawn. His separation from his demanding partner, who’d pressured him to quit the force, had been taking its toll; however, his decision to choose his career over her was paying off and he seemed to be back to his old self – enthusiastic and thorough.

  ‘Have you found anything useful on her Facebook page?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘No, everything dried up after her friend Tabitha died. Look.’ He moved aside to let Lucy see Amelia’s account: the header a photograph of the two friends, and the last status update in February 2018, after Tabitha had suddenly died.

  Lucy read, ‘“I can’t believe you’ve gone. You didn’t deserve to die. The world will be an empty, lonely place without you, my beautiful friend. Love you forever.” Did she not write anything else?’

  ‘That was the last status she posted.’

  ‘No hint of a boyfriend?’

  ‘Relationship status is showing single.’

  ‘Do any of her online friends live in Samford?’

  ‘I hunted for connections but there are none. Most of her friends were from Nottinghamshire.’

  ‘Anyone called Tommy, Thomas or Tom?’ asked Lucy.

  Ian entered the names, one after another, in the ‘friends’ box and shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘I’ll contact the officer who led the investigation into her disappearance. They might be able to tell us more, maybe have access codes for her email.’

  Murray’s chair released a high-pitched squeal as it swivelled. ‘No need. It was DI Bletchley and I’ve already contacted him. He’s going to email across all the info.’

  ‘Cool, thanks.’

  ‘My pleasure, boss.’ Murray gave an imperceptible bow.

  Lucy ran through the meeting with Vicki Saunders and Dylan Frogmore and what she and Natalie had uncovered.

  ‘We tried to get hold of Tabitha’s parents but they’re on holiday in Goa and there’s a five-and-a-half-hour time difference, making it about half past two in the morning there. We’ll call them tomorrow morning and see if they’d been in contact with Amelia. Can you run a background check on Dylan and confirm his whereabouts for today with his manager?’ She passed the details she’d taken from Vicki’s lodger to Ian.

  A ringtone interrupted her and she answered her mobile. ‘Hang on, Pinkney, I’ll put the phone on speaker.’ She pressed the loudspeaker button and Pinkney’s deep voice became audible.

  ‘As I said, I managed to queue-jump Amelia Saunders, and I’ve got some initial findings for you. Stomach contents suggest she was taking drugs. I’ve sent off hair and blood samples for toxicology testing to confirm that and to give us a retrospective record of her drug-taking history.’ It was usual practice during autopsy to remove hair from the head and send it for further examination to establish if poison or drugs had played their part in the victim’s death; substances circulated in the bloodstream and collected at hair follicles, merging with the hair during its growth and becoming fixed there. Pinkney explained that Amelia had eaten a cheese sandwich around lunchtime, and the stomach contents confirmed the time of death to be around 4 p.m. He continued, ‘Chemical detection of semen was performed using Phosphatesmo kits, and revealed its presence in both the vagina and her mouth. I’ve taken swabs and sent them for DNA testing to establish whether or not she had sexual relations with one or more men. I would suggest the latter to be the case as I’ve collected pubic hair and skin cells that appear to have come from more than one individual. With regards to the cause of death, the internal damage to her larynx and the internal structures in her neck definitely point to manual strangulation. I haven’t completed the full examination but those are the salient points.’

  ‘You’ve been most helpful. Thanks, Pinkney.’

  ‘My pleasure, and don’t forget you owe me a bottle of Châteaux Margaux for queue-jumping the deceased.’

  ‘Châteaux Margaux,’ scoffed Murray. ‘Whatever happened to “a bottle of nice red”? He’s increased his going rate.’

  Lucy’s eyes twinkled. ‘It doesn’t matter what he demands, I usually renege on the deal, although I do owe him something for rushing her through quickly. Right, you heard the man. Sounds like she had sex with more than one man.’

  Murray paused before saying, ‘Do you think she was soliciting? West Gate car park is known as a hot spot for prostitution.’

  Lucy shrugged. ‘I suppose she might have been, or she was gang-raped.’

  ‘Or she had consensual relations with two or more men. She might have had sex with her partner and a lover,’ said Ian.

  Murray rolled his eyes. ‘Do you read romance books? She was in a car park known as a hang-out for hookers, wearing little in the way of clothes. She was hustling. I bet money on it. We need to follow this up.’

  Ian stuck to his guns. ‘You can’t assume—’

  ‘Because it makes an ass out of you and me… yeah, yeah. I know.’ Murray slid around to face his screen, turning his back on Ian, who raised his middle finger, making Murray grin. ‘Childish. You know, I can see you reflected in my screen?’

  Lucy turned to Natalie. ‘I’d like to pursue that angle. She might have been attacked by one of her clients.’

  ‘I think you’re right to pursue it.’ Natalie rose from her chair. She couldn’t do much to assist for the time being. Lucy was on top of things, and as reluctant as Natalie was to return home, she ought to. By now, Thea would be tucked up in bed asleep.

  Lucy’s phone rang again. This time it was her other DS, Andy Foxton, who’d moved from a crime unit in Bristol to join the team. She took the call then spoke to everyone.

  ‘Andy’s found a homeless guy who saw Amelia arguing with a bloke. He’s bringing him in.’

  Murray slapped his hands together with gusto and rubbed them noisily. ‘This is going well, boss.’

  ‘Don’t count your chickens,’ cautioned Lucy.

  Murray’s demeanour changed, his smile vanished. ‘What is it with all the proverbs today – “don’t assume”, “don’t count chickens”? We’ve identified the victim, we know the cause of her death and we have a witness. I’d say that’s not bad going for a few hours’ work. Don’t be negative. We’re busting our guts here to get quick results.’

  Lucy scowled at his outburst. ‘We’ve found a witness, not a suspect or the killer. I’m not putting you down, Murray, just making sure we stay focused.’

  ‘I’m focused. I’m totally bloody focused… all right?’ He locked eyes with her and she lifted her chin in response.

  ‘Good. Glad to hear it.’

  He swung back to his screen and reached for his mug. The temperature had dropped a few degrees and Natalie couldn’t fail to miss the tension that had materialised from nowhere. It wasn’t unusual during investigations when officers were tired and stretched, and tempers ran high, but this spat was out of character for this pair. She reminded herself they all squabbled and this would pass; at least she hoped it would.

  Chapter Five

  Friday, 1 November – Night

  Unwashed and dishevelled, and in faded, musty clothing that was too large for his frame, Rob Yeomans leant across the desk to speak to Lucy. His facial hair darkened his skin but emphasised cerulean eyes, fulgent in the overhead lighting, that burrowed into Lucy’s. A smell of alcohol washe
d over her as he spoke.

  ‘I was headed to my usual afternoon pitch, near Hardy’s store, and was walking along the pavement by West Gate car park when I heard a shout.’

  ‘What exactly did you hear?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘I’m sure it was, “Get off me!”’ He picked up the mug of tea Lucy had provided, cupped it between fingerless-gloved hands and slurped it. ‘I don’t suppose you have any biscuits to go with this, do you?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Sorry, no. Tell me what you saw.’

  ‘Not much. It was getting dark.’ He concentrated on the drink rather than Lucy. ‘No biscuits at all?’

  Natalie pulled an energy bar from her bag and shoved it across the table. He snatched it up, ripped the paper from it and ate greedily before thanking her. After he’d consumed it, Lucy tried again. ‘What exactly did you see?’

  ‘Two people at the far side of the car park. At first, I thought they were two women arguing. One had frizzy hair, like a lion’s mane, and the other had shoulder-length hair. The one with big hair grabbed the other by wrist and I heard, “Don’t you walk away from me, you bitch!” and I realised that person was a man. The woman told him to fuck off and I didn’t hear anything else. I didn’t think it was anything serious. Just an argument.’

  ‘Can you describe the man?’

  Rob wiped a finger under his nose, the nail grimy with dirt, and sniffed before speaking. ‘He was about six foot one or two. Slim. I couldn’t make out his features… too dark at that time of day.’

  ‘Had you ever seen him before?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so.’ He lifted his tea again and drank.

  ‘What about the girl?’

  ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t see what she looked like. I might have seen her before. I see lots of people.’

  ‘Do you usually walk the same route to the shopping centre?’

  ‘Most days. It depends where I am in the morning.’

  ‘I’m going to show you a photograph of the victim. Can you tell me if you’ve seen her before?’ Lucy showed Rob a photograph taken from Amelia’s Facebook page.