'And when did you see the man in the photo here?'
'He's only been here recently,' she said, handing Bolt the card. 'In the last few weeks. I hadn't seen him before that.'
'Did he act suspiciously at all?' asked Mo, speaking for the first time.
Andrea shook her head, sitting back down. 'No. Just did his job.'
'Did he ever come inside the house?'
'No. I never let any of the gardeners inside the house. There was never any need. And also, quite a few of the people who work for Mike Brandon have criminal records.'
Bolt raised his eyebrows. 'Really?'
'The idea's to help them get back on their feet.
I've always thought it was a good idea but, you know, I'm not entirely stupid. I'm not going to give them the run of the place. Not with their backgrounds.' She picked up the photo again. 'God, do you really think he might be involved?'
Bolt suddenly wished he wasn't, after what Bouchera and Richardson had both said about him, but he nodded. 'Yes, I do. And it shows we're on the right track.' He glanced at Mo as he said this.
Bolt looked at the card Andrea had given him and saw that Brandon was a local Hampstead firm.
'Well, we're going to need to get on to them straight away and see if they've got any other contact details for Mr Ridgers.'
He stood up and excused himself and Mo.
As soon as they were out in the hall, Bolt let out a deep breath. He turned to his colleague, hoping for some form of acknowledgement that he'd been right to follow up the lead.
'I still don't agree with how you went about it,' he said grudgingly.
'This is my daughter we're talking about,' Bolt hissed, leaning close to Mo. 'I had no choice. And now we're getting somewhere, aren't we? Because this is way too coincidental. Ridgers is involved. No question.'
'OK, but we still don't know where he is and we haven't got a lot of time to find him.'
Bolt nodded. 'But I was right to do what I did.'
He turned away before Mo could say anything else and dialled the number for Brandon Landscapes. The call went straight to message and he left one, asking Mike Brandon to get back to him urgently. Then he called Big Barry and gave him the news.
Barry seemed to forget his earlier irritation with Bolt, and praised him for his good work. 'We don't want to put out an alert in case any local copper tries to nick him before he's picked up the money. But it's good to be able to put a name to one of them, Mike. Well done.'
Matt Turner emerged from the study as Bolt came off the phone.
'Any chance of getting relieved here, boss?' he asked. 'I'm going stir crazy.'
'Don't worry,' Bolt told him wearily, 'this is all going to be over soon.'
He wasn't sure what else to say so he left Turner and Mo there and went and stood out in the garden. He had a strong need to get away from everyone. It was a beautiful early autumn afternoon, with only a few wispy strands of cloud and aircraft trails crossing an otherwise perfect azure sky, but he was unable to enjoy the solitude. Like Andrea, he couldn't stand the waiting. It gave him far too much time to think, and the fact that his hunch had paid off was proving to be a doubleedged sword. As Barry had said, it was good to be able to ID one of the kidnappers, but the fact remained that he'd also been accused of being a paedophile, and he was quite possibly holding Bolt's daughter. That thought made relaxation of any kind impossible.
He paced the garden for quite a while, then went back inside. He could hear Mo, Turner and Marie talking quietly in the study but couldn't make out what they were saying. Not wanting to interrupt them, he knocked on the living-room door and was unsurprised to see Andrea still in her seat, smoking.
'You know what?' she said through the smoke, without looking at him. 'The contents of that bag . . .' She motioned with a flick of her head towards the holdall on the floor. 'It's just a load of fucking paper, isn't it? I've spent my whole life trying to earn as much as I can of those little bits of paper, and all for what? A nice big house. A big car. A daughter I might never see again . . .'
'You can't think like that, Andrea. You've got to be positive.'
She managed a weak smile. 'We'll get through it. Won't we?'
'If we're strong, we'll get through it. And tonight we both need to be very strong, and very focused.'
She stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and stood up, taking a step towards him. 'Will you hold me?' she asked him. 'Just for a moment?'
She looked so vulnerable that Bolt knew there was no way he could resist, and he went to take her in his arms.
And then stopped, startled by a sound that inspired hope and fear in equal measure.
The ringing of the phone.
Forty
Emma's voice came over the line on loudspeaker. Like the previous day, it was a recording. Unlike the previous day, Bolt's relationship with her had changed, and he experienced a wrenching in his stomach as she spoke, her words nervous and halting.
'Hi Mum, it's me. I'm OK. It's Saturday. I've seen the paper.' A short pause. 'They say that they'll let me go tonight if you give them the money. But you can't involve the police. Please. Otherwise . . .' Another pause, longer this time.
They were in the study. All five of them. Turner, Marie, Mo, Bolt and Andrea. Turner clicked frantically on his laptop, trying to secure a trace. The others stood silent, waiting. Bolt couldn't look at Andrea, even though he knew she was looking at him. The receiver was shaking in her hand. He caught Mo's eyes and saw sympathy there. He didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he stared at a fixed point high on the ceiling, his jaw set hard.
There was a click at the other end of the phone, and then the familiar disguised voice came on the line.
'Do you have the money yet, Mrs Devern?'
'Yes.' Delivered firmly.
'Good. And have you spoken to the police?'
'No.' Delivered just as firmly.
'We have someone with your daughter. He has instructions to kill her at ten p.m. exactly if he hasn't heard from us, so I would advise you strongly to do the right thing this time.'
Bolt flinched at his words, and for a moment Andrea appeared unsteady on her feet; then she began to speak confidently into the phone.
'I told you, I haven't,' she said. 'I just want to get this thing over with.'
'Good. You have sat-nav in your car, don't you?'
'Yes.'
'Munroe Drive in N7 is a six-minute drive away from you in normal traffic. You've got four minutes to get there or the deal's off. Drive to the end and await my call.'
'But—'
The line went dead. Andrea let the receiver drop to the floor.
'Jesus, where are my keys? I've only got four minutes.'
'Don't panic, Andrea,' Bolt told her sharply. 'He's bluffing. Remember, he wants the money. Just stay calm and get to Munroe Drive as soon as you can.' He looked at Turner. 'Trace?'