Melissa had updated her wall from her mobile stating that she was flying first class, all expenses paid, accompanied by her agent for a meeting at Models 1 agency.
Powerful stuff, thought Brady. Especially for a sixteen-year-old kid.
‘They said first class,’ Lucy whispered. ‘That they were paying. All she had to do was turn up with her passport and an overnight bag …’
‘Was she just supposed to be staying the night?’ Brady asked.
Lucy nodded, head down. Eyes fixed on her small, delicate hands.
‘So, when was she supposed to return?’
‘About 5ish yesterday. To make it look as if she had been at school all day …’
Brady frowned.
‘She told Mum and Dad that she was staying over at Libby’s house to revise. She said they’d be up late studying so it was better that she stayed the night and that they’d then go to school together the next day.’
Brady looked at Brian and Michelle Ryecroft. Their expressions told Brady that this was exactly what had happened; their eldest daughter had played them.
‘Why did she tell you all this, Lucy?’ questioned Brady.
It seemed odd that Melissa would go to so much trouble hiding this from her parents to then tell her younger sister.
It didn’t add up.
‘She’d gone to get a shower last weekend. It was Sunday night I think and I … I had gone into her bedroom and … checked out what she was up to on her computer. The page was still up and it was on her Facebook page. Some guy had written on her wall that she was stunning. Real model material. He asked her to email him her contact details and he’d start talking to people in London to arrange a meeting and a photo shoot. All at his expense. He suggested that if she was up for it, he could get her in front of them on Friday. Yesterday …’
‘Do you remember his name?’
Lucy shook her head.
‘No … before I could read any more Melissa had suddenly come back in. She’d forgotten something.’
Brady tried not to show his disappointment. A name would have been good. But then again he mused, whoever this bastard was, he definitely wouldn’t be using his real name.
Harvey and Kodovesky had gone through her Facebook account and no such message was on her wall. Brady presumed she must have taken it down. Worried perhaps, that one of her friends might mention it to their parents, out of teenage jealousy and spite. Brady imagined that a good-looking girl like Melissa would have her fair share of envious admirers.
‘What made you decide to sneak in to her bedroom?’ asked Brady.
A look briefly crossed Lucy’s face which spoke of a history of sibling rivalry. She then shrugged.
‘You know? Like, there was something different about her …’
‘Go on,’ prompted Brady gently.
‘She was … more arrogant than usual,’ Lucy said as she shot her father a nervous glance.
Brady noticed Michelle Ryecroft squeezing Lucy’s arm in support.
Brian Ryecroft on the other hand looked agitated. But he kept his mouth firmly shut. Even though it was clear that he didn’t agree with his younger daughter’s perception of her older sister.
‘She also kept saying things like, she wouldn’t be finishing sixth form because she was going to move to London soon. That she was going to be a model. That … that there were people, important people who believed in her. Said that she had something special. That they could make her famous, like. You know? A supermodel like Gisele Bundchen or Kate Moss or something? Stupid stuff like that. That … that she might then move to Europe …’
‘Did she have a boyfriend?’ Brady asked, realising that a girl Melissa’s age wouldn’t be making such grand plans on her own.
‘No,’ answered Brian Ryecroft quickly.
Too quickly for Brady.
Ryecroft looked across at his wife for backup.
She shook her head but Brady couldn’t help noticing the tears welling up in her eyes again.
He thought back to Wolfe’s autopsy findings. The victim had had an abortion as recently as a month ago. An abortion that hadn’t gone as planned.
‘But surely she must have had one. Beautiful girl like Melissa, I imagine she must have had lots of boys chasing her.’
‘What about Marijuis?’ Lucy asked innocently, as she turned to her mother.
Michelle Ryecroft’s face clearly told her daughter to keep quiet.
‘Who’s Marijuis?’ asked Brady, throwing a sideways glance at Conrad, who looked as surprised and as intrigued as Brady.
The statement that Brady and Conrad had both independently read had stated quite clearly that Melissa Ryecroft did not have a boyfriend. Boyfriends were always the first in line for questioning in a murder investigation. As were the parents. But only a fool would think that either her mother or, more likely according to the statistics, her father, were involved in their daughter’s disappearance. And horrific murder. If it was indeed her body that had washed up on Whitley Bay beach.
Both parents were clearly beside themselves with grief and anguish at what might have happened to their daughter. And at this point, Brady could honestly say that Brian Ryecroft didn’t seem capable of harming his daughter, let alone carrying out the heinous crimes committed on the decapitated murder victim lying in the hospital morgue.
‘We don’t know, alright?’ snapped Brian Ryecroft suddenly, taking Brady by surprise.
Brady looked at him.
‘I’m sorry, all I’m trying to do is establish some facts that could help us find your daughter,’ apologised Brady.
It was clear that Melissa
‘That’s if you haven’t already found her,’ replied Brian Ryecroft as his eyes started to water.
‘Well … the reason for this line of questioning is to establish whether the girl we have at Rake Lane Hospital is in fact Melissa. Rather than take you straight there for identification purposes.’
Brian Ryecroft bent his head forward, resting it in his large, trembling hands.
‘I know … I’m sorry … I … just want my baby back … I just want Melissa …’ he choked.
‘Dad?’ questioned Lucy, scared.
Brady had no choice but to continue. It wouldn’t matter if he stopped the interview. Questions would still have to be answered. Whether it was now or later.
‘Who was Marijuis?’ he asked, ignoring Brian Ryecroft’s breakdown.
‘He … he was Melissa’s boyfriend,’ whispered Lucy as she nervously looked at her father. ‘Mum and Dad didn’t know until … until it was too late …’
‘Do you have any contact details for him?’ asked Brady, looking directly at Lucy’s mother.
Michelle Ryecroft shook her head as her pale, long-fingered hand fluttered nervously around her throat.
‘We believe Melissa met him in Budapest when she went on holiday for her sixteenth birthday with a group of girls last November.’
‘What, for the breast augmentation operation?’ asked Brady.
‘No … that … that came after. She came home with this crazy idea that she wanted larger breasts. And she had checked everything out. The clinic in Budapest, the cost … everything.’
‘Who gave her the idea?’ asked Brady.
Michelle Ryecroft looked over at her husband. His head still hung down in defeat, but his large hands were now resting on the edge of the desk clenched so hard his knuckles were white.
‘It … it was that Marijuis … the man she met on holiday.’
‘Man?’ questioned Brady as Brian Ryecroft’s knuckles clenched even tighter.
‘When Melissa eventually told us he was twenty-eight that’s when we … we tried to stop her contacting him.’
