He slept late. It was gone eleven when he finally rose from his bed, cleaned himself up, and put on a fresh pot of coffee. There was a message on his mobile from Mo telling him that Matt Turner was still on the critical list but that the operation had been a success and the doctors were confident he was going to pull through. He also added that Emma had been debriefed and had confirmed Bolt's version of events, then finished by wishing his boss luck and hoping he'd be back on duty soon. He sounded a little contrite, and Bolt guessed that this was his apology for the way he'd been the previous day.
It was good news about Turner. He'd go down the hospital to visit him as soon as he was well enough to be seen.
As he poured the coffee and made himself a couple of slices of toast, his thoughts turned to Emma. It was a strange feeling knowing that he had a daughter who for fourteen years had grown up only a few miles away. But he felt happy about it, and hopeful too. He wanted to become a part of her life now, although he knew that this would have to wait a while, at least until she'd recovered from the worst of her ordeal.
But at the very least he needed to know how she was getting on, and when he'd finished his toast he called Andrea's landline. Marie the liaison officer answered. She sounded tired, but brightened a little when she recognized Bolt's voice.
'It's great news that we've got Emma back,' she said. 'Andrea's ecstatic, as you can imagine.'
'Is Andrea there?' he asked.
'Yes, they're both here. Do you want to speak to her?'
'Please. Just tell her it's a quick courtesy call.
I'm sure she's busy.'
'I'll go and find her. Hold on.'
Marie clearly didn't know about his suspension. In fact, it didn't seem that she'd been told much, which under the circumstances was probably no bad thing.
A few seconds later he heard the receiver being picked up. But it wasn't Andrea. It was Marie again.
'She says she's very busy at the moment, Mr Bolt. Can she call you back later?'
He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. 'No problem. I'll wait to hear from her. But Emma's fine, yeah?'
'She's asleep at the moment, but yes, she's bearing up well, although the doctors say she's quite dehydrated.'
He wanted to ask something else, to keep the conversation going in the hope that Andrea would change her mind and take the call, but he wasn't sure what, so reluctantly he said his goodbyes and hung up.
He turned on the TV and found Sky News. The main report was on the failed ransom drop. The man shot dead by police had not been named, but the young father he'd fatally stabbed had been identified as thirty-five-year-old Anthony Randolph of Waltham Abbey, Essex. A photo of him on his wedding day flashed up on the screen, followed by a photo of Matt Turner looking particularly deadpan, as the reporter described him as fighting for his life in intensive care. A camera panned round a largely empty Tottenham High Road, lined with strips of scene-of-crime tape, as the report continued, but it was clear that information was scarce, and there was no mention of the kidnapping, or of the separate but linked death of Scott Ridgers.
Bolt felt resentful that he was no longer involved in an investigation he'd done so much to break. He wondered whether Phelan had shown up yet, and briefly contemplated phoning Tina, but decided against it. She'd done more than enough for him already, and he didn't want to lose her respect by pushing her further.
Instead, he finished his coffee and got dressed, knowing that he had to do something, anything, to ease his frustration.
Which was when he had an idea. Outside, the sun was shining and it looked like it was going to be another beautiful day. He grabbed his shoes and looked at his watch. Five minutes to midday.
It was time to catch up with some old friends.
Fifty-five
When Tina Boyd pressed the buzzer on Andrea's security gate at just after 2.30 p.m. she'd already done a seven-hour day and was finally on her way home, albeit in a slightly indirect way. She'd already spent more than two hours there that morning with Mo talking to Emma, listening to her harrowing account of the past few days while her mother sat beside her, holding her hand. Tina had been impressed by how brave and lucid Emma was in the interview, answering all their questions quietly and carefully, and although she'd looked tired, and thinner than she did in the photos that lined the house, her overall demeanour suggested that the damage she'd suffered wasn't irreversible. It was too early to say for sure, and Tina was no psychologist, but she'd come away feeling positive, and also proud of her boss, who according to Emma's testimony had saved her life and almost lost his own in the process. Emma had asked where Bolt was, saying she'd like to thank him properly, and Tina had told her that she was sure they'd get to meet soon, looking at Andrea as she did so.
Andrea had looked away.
Andrea's voice came on the line now, far brighter and chirpier now that she'd got her daughter back, but it immediately lost its lustre when Tina introduced herself.
'Oh, back again?' she said wearily. 'I'm afraid Emma's asleep at the moment, and I don't want her disturbed.'
'That's OK. It's you I've come to see. Can I come in?'
Andrea buzzed her through. She'd changed since Tina had left earlier and was now wearing a long T-shirt and a pair of khaki hotpants that showed off shapely legs and freshly painted, bright red toenails. The haggard, terrified woman of the last couple of days had now almost completely disappeared. It was quite a transformation.
'I've sent the liaison officer away,' she said as Tina stepped into the hallway. 'It's just me and Emma now. Like it's always been. Any word on Pat yet?'
'Nothing at the moment, I'm afraid.'
'God knows what's happened to him. I still don't think he's involved, but if he is…' Her face darkened momentarily but then returned to normal as she pushed thoughts of her husband aside. 'Do you have more questions for me, then? Is that why you're here?'
'Shall we go through to the living room?'
'OK.'
Andrea stretched out the word, trying to gauge from Tina's expression what this might be about. Tina didn't give anything away, so Andrea led her through, taking her usual position on the sofa. Tina shut the door but remained standing.
'I wanted to ask you some questions about Emma's father. Her real one.'
Andrea sighed loudly. 'God, do we have to? I mean, is it important? I could do with a rest myself, you know.'
'We need to discuss it now.'
'Don't take that sort of tone with me.'
'You said in your statement on Friday that Emma's father was James Galante.'
'That's right.'
Tina pulled a folded sheet of paper from the back pocket of her jeans, holding it out in front of her.
'Do you know what it says on here?'
Andrea didn't say anything, but she was looking less sure of herself.
'It says that Emma was adopted.'
Andrea swallowed.
'By you and your then husband, Mr William Devern, in September 1994. When she was seventeen months old. I got a copy of the birth certificate from Somerset House this morning.'
'Christ. Keep your voice down. Emma doesn't know.'
'OK. But it makes me wonder, Mrs Devern, how many other things have you been lying about?'