Twisted by Lynda La Plante Read Free Book Online Page A

or flippant remarks. On the Sunday, he had nipped home to get changed, and then gone out with Justine and spent most of the day with her. He would have stayed overnight but, because of his meeting with Lena and the lawyers on the Monday, he had returned to get a good night’s sleep. At no time had Amy called, or left a message on his mobile, and he was a bit ashamed that he had not even attempted to contact her. Knowing she was spending the weekend with her friend, and would be returning to school on the Sunday evening, it had not occurred to him to double-check the arrangements. It was also obvious that Amy did not get along with Justine, not that he ever discussed it with his daughter. It was just a fact and one he refused to get into any kind of argument about as he felt it was none of her business. But when Amy came for her weekend he would not have Justine stay over. Whether or not Amy had mentioned Justine to Lena was yet another subject he had not discussed, and it was not as if Justine was the first woman he had been seeing – there had been quite a number of others over the past two years, but most of them never even got to meet his daughter.
    Amy’s dressing table was heaped with cheap jewellery, perfumes and makeup, bottles of shampoos and conditioners, a matted hairbrush and comb. Marcus searched around, opening a couple of drawers, discovering creased underwear and old tights, vest tops and nightdresses. He then thumbed through all the latest magazines from the pile on top in case there was something between the pages, and tossed them aside to look under the bed, only to find old slippers and a few books covered with an accumulated level of dust. He couldn’t recall ever vacuuming beneath it and he doubted Amy bothered. The bedside table drawer was full of broken bits and pieces of necklaces and beads – no letters, no notebooks, or photo albums, nothing of any use. He next checked out the wardrobe, opening a suitcase, a couple of backpacks and a smaller vanity case. All were empty. Left plugged into a wall socket was her mobile charger, but no phone. Standing in the untidy room he could see nothing that gave any indication of where she might have gone, or who she might have been with.
    He returned to the kitchen and brewed up a strong black coffee, sitting on a stool by the breakfast counter as he wondered if Lena had any news. He was about to call her when he glanced at the wall calendar pinned up beside a cork notice board. Amy had begun by circling the weekends she would be staying, but had not bothered for almost six months as she simply called him instead. The corkboard was full of receipts, dry-cleaning tickets, phone numbers for his gym and hairdresser, and invitations to dinners and cocktail parties. There was nothing connected to Amy, no old message left for him, but there was a picture cut out of a Sunday supplement of a King Charles Spaniel puppy. Amy had always wanted a dog, but it was just not possible.
    Meanwhile, Lena was at Richmond Police Station, sitting in front of Detective Constable Barbara Burrows, a fresh-faced young woman with shoulder-length auburn hair. She worked on the Richmond Missing Persons Unit and was painstakingly and methodically writing down details for the ‘misper’ report. The slow procedure was beginning to frustrate Lena and she felt that someone of a higher rank should be talking to her. By now she was very concerned, and to be asked so many questions and forced to repeat herself over and over again about her marriage and separation was irritating. DC Burrows was taking care to cover every angle, as she needed to have a very detailed report to put on the Met’s missing persons database and also the National Missing Persons computer. Burrows explained to Lena there were three risk categories for missing persons – high, medium and low. Due to Amy’s age, and the circumstances, it was possible she had run away and would probably be treated as a medium risk;