Angela’s head had been clearer when she came home and she had started talking to the local vicar about a funeral service for Alice and thinking about hymns and readings. She felt better than she had for weeks and Nick had stopped fussing over her every move.
“You look well, love,” he’d said that morning. “Do you fancy going out for something to eat tonight? It’s been months since I took you anywhere.”
And she’d smiled at him and said yes.
But an hour later, DC Turner rang. Angela had answered the call and mouthed “Wendy” at Nick. She’d been glad to hear from her—she wanted to ask the officer about when they could have Alice’s service, but DC Turner cut her off.
“Have you heard from anyone from the press today, Angela?”
“No, Wendy. Why, what’s happened?”
“Andy Sinclair is on his way down with me. We’ll be there in half an hour, so sit tight. It’s probably best if you don’t answer the phone until we get there.”
“My God, what’s happened?”
“Let’s talk about it when we arrive, Angela. Is Nick there?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. See you soon.”
They’d sat and waited in the living room, watching for the car. And when DI Sinclair and DC Turner knocked, Angela was too shaky to stand.
Nick ushered the officers into the room and Wendy went immediately to sit with Angela and took her hand.
DI Sinclair looked tired and depressed. He slumped down on the chair by the window and looked at her and Nick. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said, “but it was important to talk to you in person.”
No one spoke and he cleared his throat.
“I’ve got some difficult news. There’s been a significant development in the investigation. A woman came forward yesterday to claim she is the mother of the baby found in Howard Street. I honestly thought she was an attention-seeker, but the initial tests we have run on her DNA show a match.”
“No,” Angela whispered and put her other hand out for Nick, to steady herself.
She watched as the color drained from her husband’s face.
“I cannot believe this. How could this have happened?” Nick was saying. “Whose mistake is this?”
“Nick, don’t,” she said.
“We’re not sure yet, Nick. Mistakes in this sort of testing are rare. We’re trying to sort it out as soon as possible.”
“But when will you know for certain?” her husband asked.
DI Sinclair spread his hands helplessly.
“I see,” Nick said.
“But you will tell us as soon as you do know, Andy,” Angela said.
After the officers had gone, they sat at the kitchen table and stared at each other. “It must be a mistake,” Nick said. “We need to sit tight until they sort it all out.”
“No, she’s gone,” Angela said. “Our little girl has disappeared again.”
SEVENTY-SIX
Kate
TUESDAY, MAY 1, 2012
The results of the new DNA tests would probably come back today, she knew. DI Sinclair had pushed them to the top of the pile, anxious to get things back on track, he’d told Kate after his interview with Emma.
He’d phoned her to check if Soames had anyone living with him. “I’m sending my blokes round there now, Kate. Just want to know if there are any complicating factors.”
“No, there’s an ex-wife and two estranged grown-up children. But he’s Billy No Mates,” she’d said.
“How did it go with Emma?” she added. He’d be expecting her to ask and she wanted to keep her own meetings with Emma quiet.
“Poor woman was all over the place,” he’d said. “Shaking with nerves. Her eyes kept drifting off somewhere.”
“Come on, Andy, wouldn’t you be all over the place if you’d been raped and had a baby when you were still a child?” Kate had replied.
“She says she had a baby, Kate. But we both know it is unlikely to be true,” he’d said. “I mean, it’s a bit of luck for her story that no one else knew about it. A teenager having a baby and no one noticed? Really?”
“It happens, Andy,” Kate had said. “There have been cases where it has happened. People can do the most extraordinary things.”
“Okay, okay, but the body is Alice’s—the scientists say so—and that’s what I’m focusing on. We can’t get distracted by this sort of attention-seeking. We get it all the time in our job, Kate.
“And, if you want my advice,” he’d added, “don’t get involved.”
But she was already involved.
? ? ?
It was Angela who broke the news to her on that Tuesday. DI Sinclair had rung her to warn her that there was a new line emerging in the investigation and to prepare her for media calls.
Fortunately for Kate, Angela didn’t think of her as the media.
“Kate,” she said, close to tears, “something awful has happened. The DNA tests have linked a woman in London with the baby. DI Sinclair says she came forward to say the baby was hers and they thought she was a time waster. But it now looks like she was telling the truth. They’re retesting my samples, but I think I’ve lost Alice all over again.” She wept.
“It is all such a mess,” Kate said. “I’m so sorry, Angela.”
“The police can’t seem to get anything right,” Angela cried down the phone. “They got the timeline wrong and now they say it’s somebody else’s baby. I don’t think I can cope with much more . . .”
“Come on, Angela. Is Nick with you? That’s good. Now, when did Andy Sinclair say he’d ring you back?”
“In the morning. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“I know,” Kate said. “I’ll get off the phone in case he’s trying to get through, but ring me as soon as you hear anything.”
She didn’t call Sinclair. He’d know immediately that Angela had called her and might order her not to speak to Kate again. It had happened in the past. She would bide her time until he called the Irvings with updates.
? ? ?
Kate sat in the goldfish bowl in silence while Terry ranted. It did him good to let it all out, she knew. He bottled too much up and something, eventually, had to give. He’d had a bad week, he said, and she was “the tin fucking lid.”
“It’s still a brilliant story, Terry,” she said and then let him have his tantrum. “I knew Emma wasn’t making it up.”
“No, it seems she wasn’t,” Terry replied. “Damn her. Okay, what can we write?”
“Just that DNA tests are being rerun at the moment. We won’t get a sniff of the results until tomorrow morning at the earliest. And if we say they are retesting, we’ll be alerting everyone else. Why don’t we wait and run the results exclusively?” Kate urged.
“Okay,” he said, grumpily.
? ? ?
Joe was waiting at her desk. He’d watched the show through the glass and was desperate to be in on it. “What did Angela say? What did Terry say?” he asked.
“Angela’s been told Emma’s DNA matches the baby.”
“No! What about Angela’s DNA? Have they got it wrong in the lab?”
“Must have. Poor Angela is in pieces. They’re rerunning the tests and Andy Sinclair is going to call her back when they’ve got the result.”
“So it isn’t Alice?” Joe said. “What a story.”
“And you thought it was going to be boring when I gave you that first packet of cuttings,” Kate said.
“Well . . .”
“It’s never boring,” she said.
“Is that golden rule number two?” he asked and grinned.
“Write it down. I’m ringing Emma, now,” Kate said.
The mobile number went straight to voicemail and she left a message, urging Emma to call back.
There was nothing to do but wait, but Kate couldn’t sit still.
“I’m going round to Emma’s house,” she announced to Terry. Joe picked up his notebook and followed her out of the newsroom.
? ? ?
They knocked over and over again, peering in through the windows at the front and side, but there was no sign of life. Kate stood indecisively at the gate.
“She’s not here,” Joe said.
“Yep, worked that one out, Joe,” she snapped.
“What shall we do now?” he asked. Like a lamb to the slaughter.
“How the hell should I know?” she barked at him. “Stop whining, for God’s sake.”
He’d looked away, pretending not to care. Like Jake had done that morning as he left for the airport. She’d let him kiss her good-bye and then said: “I expect we’ll hear from you when you need money.”