“I’ll discuss that with you later,” he said to Kate, raising his hand to silence her explanations. “Later . . .”
“We are waiting to verify Angela Irving’s DNA results, but it looks like there must have been an error in the tests,” he said. “I’m talking to Mr. and Mrs. Irving in the morning. What I would ask is that you do not reveal the results of your test to anyone, Emma, until all results are in and we can make a proper statement.”
He looked over at Kate to underline his meaning.
“This is a very sensitive matter, especially for the Irvings. They have waited a long time to find out what happened to their child and we must be fair to them,” he added.
Around the room, heads nodded in unison. “So, we understand each other?” he asked. “And that obviously includes you, Kate.”
“Of course,” she muttered crossly.
“It’s late,” DI Sinclair said, “and I think we should meet again in the morning. Could you come to Woolwich police station tomorrow, Mrs. Simmonds? And you, Miss Walker? I understand you both have matters you want to discuss with regards to Professor Burnside. We need to do this properly, not on this ad hoc basis.”
Emma and Barbara said they would, and Kate avoided his eyes.
“Perhaps we could have a quiet word, Kate,” he said. “Outside.”
She followed him out, leaving the women to say their farewells.
“You’ve completely overstepped the mark, Kate,” DI Sinclair said as soon as they reached the pavement. “You’ve put this investigation in jeopardy with your cowboy antics. It was not up to you to tell Emma Simmonds about the DNA test results. It could have caused all sorts of damage.”
Kate knew she’d only told Emma the results were in, but DI Sinclair wasn’t interested in excuses. She should try to defuse the situation by apologizing, but the stress of the evening had left her raw and ready for a fight.
“I have only done my job, Andy. This is what I’m paid to do. I’ve followed up leads and chased down people who might be able to help with your inquiries. And I’ve passed them on to you when asked. My paper has done everything it can to help find out what happened to Alice Irving. Hardly my fault you got the tests wrong . . .”
“I’ll be speaking to your editor,” DI Sinclair said, turning on his heel and marching off into the night, his DS scurrying behind him.
“Bugger,” Kate said out loud. “Another contact bites the dust.”
EIGHTY
Kate
WEDNESDAY, MAY 2, 2012
Joe was hard at work when she arrived in the office the next day, focusing on his screen with the sort of attention that gave her an instant headache. Kate was too tired and dispirited to be bothered to ask him what he was doing. She slumped down in her chair and waited for the next bollocking.
It only took thirty seconds to arrive.
Terry beckoned her over. The slow, angry finger beckon.
“Right, my star reporter, where are we then?” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Have you stood this story up yet?”
“Well,” Kate started.
“Yes or no?”
“No,” she said. “And I think Simon is going to get a complaint from the police. I got an earful from my contact on the case last night and was told not to write anything until an official statement is released. I think our love affair is over.”
“Great,” Terry said, winding himself up. “So we haven’t got the exclusive I promised Simon? And he’s going to get an earful from the commissioner? Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.”
She thought about saying sorry, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“I’ll try another route,” she said and slunk back to her desk.
Joe looked up. “Shall I get you a coffee, Kate?” he said and she could have hugged him.
“Yes, my lovely boy. Have I told you I’m going to adopt you? And get a brandy if they’ve got one.”
She switched on her screen to appear in work mode and got her notebook out.
I wonder what Simon will say, she thought, the threat of redundancy fluttering at the back of her mind. He’ll back me, won’t he?
Joe returned with caffeine but no strong liquor. “They were all out of brandy,” he said.
“What are you looking at?” Kate asked when he screwed his eyes firmly back on his computer.
“A thing about DNA,” he said. “It’s really interesting. Did you know if you test the mitochondria, our DNA can be matched with our ancestors? Well, through the maternal line to our great-grandmothers. And if you do Y-STR profiling, you can do the male line. It’s fascinating.”
“Fascinating,” Kate said. “Haven’t you got a story to get on with?”
“No, you don’t understand. All our closest relatives—parents, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, cousins, grandparents—will match. They share the same DNA markers.”
“Okay. So what you’re saying is more than one person could match the baby’s DNA?”
“Yes, I think so,” Joe said. “That’s what it says on Wikipedia.”
She leaned over his shoulder and read the entry for herself.
“Not two babies, then,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Two relatives.”
She rang Andy Sinclair’s mobile, but he didn’t pick up. Still sulking, she thought.
Bob Sparkes answered immediately. “Oh dear, Kate. Not DI Sinclair’s favorite reporter, I hear.”
“You hear right. Has he called you? He threw a hissy fit last night and marched off.”
“Not the description he gave me, but he is extremely fed up with you. And they are having to run all the tests again because they keep getting the same results. He’s under huge pressure. Cut him some slack, Kate.”
“Cutting slack won’t solve this case, Bob,” she said and he laughed.
“You just can’t leave things alone, can you? Like a terrier with a bone.”
“That’s what makes me a good reporter, Bob. Anyway, Andy won’t take my calls. But I’ve got something to suggest. Can I run it past you, first?”
“Go on, then,” Sparkes said.
She told him about Joe’s discovery, omitting the fact that the information was on Wikipedia, and waited for him to digest it.
“So both Angela and Emma could be related to the baby?”
“Could be if I’ve understood the science properly . . .”
“I’ll ring him now,” Sparkes said and rang off before Kate could ask him to call her back immediately.
She took a mouthful of coffee, swilling it round thoughtfully. Joe perched on the edge of her desk.
When the phone trilled, she gulped and spluttered and pointed to Joe to answer.
“Hello, DI Sinclair, I’ll just pass you over,” he said, handing it to Kate.
“Hello, Andy. Sorry, just choking on my coffee. Look, I’m so sorry about last night. It was all very stressful and I probably overreacted.”
DI Sinclair cleared his throat. His turn.
“Yes, well, I probably came over a bit heavy-handed. Let’s put it behind us, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s do that. Thanks for ringing me. I really appreciate it.”
“Bob Sparkes has just told me your suggestion,” DI Sinclair said. “I wanted to let you know that our forensic team is already comparing Emma’s and Angela’s DNA as a check on false positives. That would confirm their shared ancestry. And we’re about to talk to both women to try and establish a link. So please, do not get in contact with either of them until we have done so.”
“Oh God, Andy. Emma is Alice, isn’t she?” Kate said, the idea bursting in on her.
EIGHTY-ONE
Jude
WEDNESDAY, MAY 2, 2012
DI Sinclair was on his way to Pinner.
Emma had called her in a panic. “He’s just rung, Jude, to make sure I’m home. I think he’s coming to take me away. To lock me up. I just wanted to tell you.”
“Why would they want to lock you up?” Jude had said. “Try to stay calm.”
“I buried the baby without telling anyone. They might think I killed it,” Emma had sobbed.
And Jude had run down the stairs to find a cab. She had to be with Emma now.
She’d arrived just after the detective. He looked exhausted. Nearly as exhausted as Paul looked. Emma had packed a small bag in readiness and was sitting holding her husband’s hand.