'And don't worry about anything at work; it's all being sorted.'
Andrea managed a weak smile. 'Thanks, Iz. I appreciate it.'
'Now, if you'll excuse us, Miss Wheeler,' said Bolt, 'there are details we need to take down from Mrs Devern.'
Isobel nodded brusquely. 'Call me,' she told Andrea, then pushed past Turner and walked back out into the hallway.
Bolt followed her out and opened the front door for her.
'Have you any idea what's happened to him?' Isobel whispered as she stepped past him on to the steps. 'I mean, really? Because four police officers seems an awful lot to come round to take a missing person's details.'
Bolt shook his head. 'No, we haven't, I'm afraid.'
She gestured in the direction of the living room. 'Watch her,' she said, but before Bolt could ask her to elaborate she'd turned and walked away down the garden path.
Bolt watched her go, wondering what she meant. And wondering too why at no point had she asked where Emma was.
Twenty-five
'I thought you said only the cleaner had access to the house, Mrs Devern,' said Mo as Bolt reentered the living room.
Andrea was back on the sofa, looking flustered. 'Sorry, I forgot that I'd given a key to Isobel. It was last year. I asked her to check the place while we were on holiday.'
'And there's definitely no one else we should know about?'
She shook her head firmly. 'Definitely not.'
Bolt thought of what Isobel had said on the doorstep.
'Do the two of you get on well?' he asked.
Andrea nodded. 'Well enough. She's my business partner. I've known her for years.' Then her expression changed. 'You're not saying she's got something to do with this as well, are you? First you accuse Pat—'
'No, no,' he said hastily, 'of course not. But we don't think this is a random act. If your husband wasn't involved, we still need to know how the people targeting you knew your movements, and one of the ways would be by bugging your house.'
'But you said you found no bugs.'
'There were none when we looked this morning, but if someone other than you had access, they could have removed any listening devices.'
'Jesus, this is ridiculous. Isobel's a lawyer, not something out of MI5. What would she gain by any of this?'
'We're just trying to cover every angle, that's all,' he said, knowing that if he told her about Isobel's affair with her husband it would probably prove the last straw.
Andrea reached over to the coffee table and picked up her cigarettes again, taking one out of the pack and lighting it.
'Mike,' she said, looking him squarely in the eye, 'is there something you're not telling me?'
The question caught him off guard, as did the fact that she'd called him by his first name again in Mo's presence. Bolt had to consciously resist looking at him.
'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'As I say, these are just routine enquiries.'
As he spoke, he caught sight of an old framed photo of Emma on top of an antique chest of drawers in the corner next to the French windows – a smiling child's face staring at him from an odd angle. For a second he couldn't drag his gaze away, and he felt a bead of sweat run down his temple.
Andrea stood up. 'Well, if you haven't got any other questions, I'd like to lie down for a while.'
He nodded. 'Of course. Matt and Marie will stay here with you.'
She left the room, and Bolt wiped the bead of sweat from his brow. It had been a long day, and he knew that tomorrow was going to be an even longer one. There wasn't much more they could do, so, having instructed Turner and Marie to keep a close eye on Andrea, and promising Turner that he'd be relieved later, he and Mo said their goodbyes and went outside.
Bolt felt a surge of relief to be away from the pictures of Emma. It was torture looking at them.
'I still get the feeling Mrs Devern's not telling us everything,' said Mo as they walked back to the car.
'Shit, Mo,' Bolt snapped, 'her daughter's missing. She's going to tell us everything she can to get her back, isn't she?'
He stopped by the car and took a deep breath, surprised by the anger in his tone. Mo looked taken aback.
Bolt sighed. 'Sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that. It's just, you know . . . I don't think she's going to be holding anything back.'
They got into the car in silence. Bolt took another deep breath. The pressure was getting to him. The knowledge that he might lose the only child he'd ever had, and before he'd even met her, was affecting every step
