To Catch a Rat

by S J Grey

  Emma’d only taken a couple of steps, when she saw the front door was open. Wide open and hanging at an awkward angle. with the top hinges broken. As though someone had barged in and not cared what they damaged in the process.

  Fear prickled in her neck. Something was very wrong.

  She didn’t want to go in there by herself.

  Emma looked over her shoulder and saw Mark watching her. She hurried back to the car and spoke through the open window. “Please, come with me.”

  Mark scrambled out and caught hold of her shoulders. “Em, what’s happened? Are you okay?”

  “Look.” She spun and pointed at the door. “I’m scared. We need the police.”

  “Shit.” Seconds later, he had the police on the line and held out his phone to Emma.

  She rattled off the address. “My friend lives here, and I just called around. It looks like the house has been broken into. Please hurry.”

  “We should check,” said Mark. “She might be hurt.”

  Emma walked up to the broken door and peered around it, into the hallway. “Joss?” What if there was someone inside? Fear thrummed in her veins. “Joss, you there?”

  There was no sound other than the birds in the trees.

  Dear God. Joss thought someone was coming after her, and it looked as though she was right. The last place Emma wanted to go was inside the house, but Mark was with her.

  He tiptoed over the threshold and down the corridor, Emma behind him. Pictures hung askew on the walls or lay forlornly on the floor, glass broken and frames twisted. The little cabinet lay on its side, panes smashed and fragments of porcelain strewn in an arc. The kitchen was the same. Every drawer opened and upended. Cupboard doors hanging open.

  Emma shouted for Jocelyn, but there was no reply. Where was she? And what the hell happened? Was this before Joss came to see Emma? Why didn’t she say something this morning?

  In the lounge, the TV was tipped over, a new-looking gaming system beside it, the paddle controllers escaping their box.

  If this was a burglary, they’d have taken the TV and the game station, so why didn’t they?

  “What were they looking for?” Mark echoed her thoughts. “And where is she?”

  “I don’t know.” Emma edged closer to Mark and grabbed his hand. “I don’t like this. We should wait outside for the police.”

  “Maybe she wasn’t here when this happened. Does she work?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in years. I don’t know what she does these days.”

  “We may as well keep looking. What if she’s hurt?”

  He made sense. They continued through the house, making sure not to touch anything as they went. Every room had been ransacked. Emma’s stomach churned. Which was worse—to not find Joss, or to find her lying in a pool of blood?

  She wasn’t in the house. They even checked in the closets, but there was no sign of her.

  “We have to go outside.” Emma tugged on Mark’s hand. “There’s the garage and an outbuilding.” And where were the police? Why weren’t they here yet?

  Emma was glad they came when they did. Despite it being early evening, it would still be light for a couple of hours. Stepping into Jocelyn’s house in the dark would have been even scarier. She clung to Mark, and led him outside and around the back of the house. The roller garage door was open, and a similar mess greeted them. Who’d done this? And how long were they here for? Were they gone?

  She had too many questions. She headed to the old barn—once used for storing hay and straw, but empty all the time she’d known it. Rusting garden tools leaned against the wall, and dust sat thick on the concrete floor. A blackbird flew off at their approach, squawking a warning as it went.

  The place was empty. What happened to Joss?

  “Let’s go wait by the car,” said Mark. “The police should be here soon. Do you have a phone number for her?”

  “No. Not anymore.” They turned, and something caught Emma’s attention in the distance. “Hold on.” She lifted a hand to shield her eyes and squinted towards the back of the section. The grass sloped away to the river, a gleaming snake that reflected the weak sunlight. What did she see? She blinked, and then saw it again. A flash of red in the water.

  Chapter Three

  “What’s that?” Emma wasn’t sure if she spoke aloud, until Mark answered.

  “What? Where?”

  “There.” She pointed.

  Adrenaline lent her speed, and she ran, her pumps slip-slopping on the wet grass. It had rained all day. The river roared, the water level high. She might be mistaken. It might be a plastic bag, caught on the rocks. Or a piece of clothing.

  Mark caught up a few steps later. “Fuck,” he said, his voice harsh. He skidded to a halt and grabbed Emma. “Stop. Stop.”

  She struggled against him. They were close enough to see it—a person, face down in the water.

  “It might be Joss. We need to help her.” She had to force the words out. Her lungs were rasping.

  “I’ll go.” His grip tightened. “Wait here. Here. Okay?”

  “Hurry.”

  He nodded, then strode to the river’s edge and bent over, as though checking the depth. Next thing, he sat on the bank and dropped into the water. It came to his middle. Not deep enough to drown in. Not for Joss. Like Caleb, she was a strong swimmer and always had been. Maybe it was someone else. An unlucky walker, swept down from the hills.

  Emma was clutching at straws. She couldn’t stand and watch. She crept to the bank, ready to help Mark climb out. Fear was now a drumbeat in her blood, booming in her ears.

  He hauled at the body, rolling it over in the water.

  Christ. It was Joss. Seeing her face, eyes wide open, was shocking. Nausea rose in Emma’s throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

  Mark held his fingers against Joss’s throat. “I’m sorry,” he said. “She’s gone. There’s no pulse.” With Joss in his arms, he made his way to the edge, where he laid her with care on the grass, before hauling himself out.

  For some reason, Emma sat on her ass. She didn’t recall doing that. Or maybe her knees gave way.

  She gazed at her one-time friend. No words would come.

  “Looks like her jeans snagged on something,” said Mark.

  Tears pressed against the backs of Emma’s eyes, but she was frozen. “How did this happen?”

  Mark crouched beside Joss, his forehead creased in a frown. “There’s a bump on her forehead, but she might have hit the rocks when she went into the water.” He looked up at Emma. “Fuck, Em. I’m sorry. She was your friend.” He straightened. “At last. The police are here. You going to come with me, to tell them?”

  That meant standing up and walking and talking, none of which Emma was ready for. “I’ll wait with her.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Mark jogged toward the cops.

  She was alone, with what was left of Jocelyn. Emma shuffled across the grass, to sit beside her friend. It was freaking her out, the way Joss stared up at the sky with those sightless eyes. Who would tell Caleb? He’d be devastated; the last of his family was gone.

  It was up to Emma to tell the police what Joss had been saying. Someone had to speak up for her, now she couldn’t do it herself.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll find out what happened, I promise.”

  The next few hours flew by.

  Emma was glad Mark was with her. He brought the police officers to where Joss lay, and managed them, fielding their questions and being stronger than Emma could have imagined.

  More police and a team dressed in white coveralls arrived, while another group erected a little tent over Joss, set up floodlights, and took photographs of her body and the river.

  At some point, Emma and Mark were escorted to the nearest police station, where they were interviewed seperately. It was a process Emma remembered only too well. The hard, plastic seat. The plain, white, windowless room. The solid table with a myriad of scratch mark
s and initials scraped into it. The video cameras, recording the interview.

  She was asked in detail about the sequence of events and the timeline of when they arrived at Joss’s house and where they went. Emma told them about Joss’s fears and the posts she made on the GoodNeighbour forum.

  A plain-clothed officer asked if Emma could shed any light on Joss’s state of mind.

  She gazed at the guy. “What do you mean? Do you think she did this?” She couldn’t say the s-word aloud. Suicide.

  “We don’t rule anything out.” His voice was firm, but his eyes were sympathetic.

  “She was worried about her safety.” Emma swallowed and made her voice firmer and less feeble. “Look at her house. She was right to worry.”

  “It has to be a possibility that she fell in the water.”

  “No. She was a good swimmer. Like a fish.”

  “She might have tripped and gone in head first.” The guy watched her closely.

  “No. I don’t buy it.” Emma shivered. The day had been too long, and she wanted to go home. “How much longer do I need to stay?”

  The guy glanced at his watch. “We have your contact details. You can go home, but we might need to talk to you again tomorrow.”

  “Why tomorrow?”

  “Because we’ll have the preliminary autopsy details by then. We should know how Ms. Rush died.”

  *

  Today was supposed to have been a good day. A great one. And yet it had all turned to shit.

  Emma was exhausted on the drive home and barely spoke. Mark was quiet too. He squeezed her hand occasionally but didn’t try to make conversation, and she was grateful. She was all talked out.

  Much later, after making sandwiches and pouring large glasses of wine, Mark asked if she was planning to go to work in the morning. “I have a workshop to attend in Auckland, anyway.”

  She’d forgotten about that. She got the impression there was something else she’d forgotten, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. A thought lurked at the edge of her mind, but she had to push past it. “You’re home tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

  “Yep. I’m due to land back in Wellington at six. I’ll be home just after seven.”

  She nodded. Part of her smiled inside at how easily he talked about coming home. He’d only moved in with her a few months ago, but it was so comfortable and easy with him, it was hard to remember a time before they were together.

  “Thanks, Mark,” she said. “You were amazing tonight. I don’t know how I’d have coped without you.”

  He gave her a hug in reply. “I’m in this for the long haul, Em. Why don’t I run you a nice bath, and you can relax before you go to bed? I’ve got some work to do on my notes for tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” she repeated. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep, but it was worth a try.

  The bath helped. Soaking in lavender- and sandalwood-fragranced water, she managed to still her racing mind. More wine might have helped too. Two glasses was enough though, when she had to be up for work in the morning.

  She dried, wrapped herself in her favourite terry robe, brushed her teeth and then applied moisturiser to her face and throat. What did she forget? There was something she had to do, but what?

  Emma padded on bare feet to the breakfast bar, where Mark perched on a stool, engrossed in his laptop.

  He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Hey, you. Come here.” He opened his arms, and she melted into his embrace. “I’ll be a while yet,” he said. “There’s a bunch of last-minute changes to the slides. Don’t wait up for me.” His kiss was sweet but brief, and then she headed for the bedroom.

  Sleep came quickly, but so did the nightmare. Caleb, pacing up and down. “He’s gone too far, this time,” he said through gritted teeth. “Someone has to teach him a lesson. I won’t let him hurt Joss again.”

  Emma awoke with a start and lurched upright, her heart pounding like the bass drum in a parade. All Caleb wanted to do was protect his sister, and he hadn’t been able to. He would know by now. Somebody must have told him. Losing Joss would break him. Joss and Minerva were the only family he had left.

  Minerva. How could Emma have forgotten?

  She didn’t see the cat when they were at Joss’s place earlier, but Min was probably in hiding.

  Emma had to go back, but not tonight. Not after drinking. She’d go in the morning. What she did with Minerva then was yet to be seen. Mark was allergic, but how bad would he be with a cat in the house? Maybe she should ask him.

  She glanced at the bedside clock. It was close to midnight, and he was still up. She donned the bathrobe again and went to find him.

  He wasn’t in the kitchen, and his laptop was closed on the bench top. Not in the bathroom and not in the lounge, although the TV was on, the cartoon channel playing softly. Where was he?

  Worry sliced through her. Had he gone out in the car? His keys were no longer on the hook beside hers. Where would he go, so late at night?

  She darted back to the bedroom and snagged her phone, but before she could dial, she heard the distinctive creak of the kitchen door opening.

  What if it wasn’t Mark?

  Emma kept a heavy Maglite beside the bed, in case of power cuts or earthquakes, and she didn’t give herself time to second-guess anything. She grabbed it. With the torch raised high, she tiptoed into the kitchen and found Mark there, locking the door behind him. Relief warred with anxiety inside her.

  He spun around. “Holy shit,” he said and pressed a hand to his chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Where have you been?” Her voice came out sharp, but she was still stressed from the nightmare.

  “I left my charger in the car. I was fetching it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What are you doing up?”

  He was always losing his phone charger. It was one thing he wasn’t perfect about.

  Emma felt silly, brandishing a flashlight like a weapon. “I woke up, and you weren’t here.”

  “I’m here now. Go back to bed, and I’ll be right there. ’Kay?”

  Emma drifted back to bed, remembering to plug in her own phone.

  Mark’s phone was plugged into his charger, on the nightstand. It had been there all along.

  Emma stared at Mark’s phone. He must have forgotten where he left it, which wasn’t unusual. Wide awake now, she returned to the kitchen, where he stood by the sink, drinking a glass of water.

  “Your phone’s in the bedroom. Charging,” she said.

  He pulled a face. “Really? I just spent half an hour searching for it. Thanks, love.” He emptied the glass and popped it into the dishwasher. “With that business earlier and the prep for the workshop tomorrow, my brain’s all over the place.”

  “Bed?”

  “Right behind you.”

  Snuggled under the covers with Mark, Emma was comfortable, but more than that, she felt safe in his arms. “How allergic are you?” she asked. “To cats, I mean.”

  “Huh? A bit. They make me sneezy. Like hay fever. Why?”

  “If I can find Joss’s cat, I’d like to keep her.”

  “Did you see it today?”

  “Her. Minerva is a her, and no, I didn’t. She’s quite shy though, and she might have been hiding. I’ll go back in the morning and see if I can catch her.”

  “You said you hadn’t seen Jocelyn in years. How well do you know her cat?”

  “I remember Caleb finding her as a kitten. She was clinging to a rock in the middle of the river, and he swam in to rescue her. God knows how she got there. She was tiny and soaking wet and half-starved. Joss named her, but she was always Caleb’s cat.”

  “I’ll go with you tomorrow, to look for her,” Mark said, his voice sleepy. “When I get back from Auckland.”

  “I can go by myself.”

  “Don’t. I mean, it’d be easier with two of us. Safer too.” His arms tightened around her. “Please don’t go by yourself, Em. You saw Jocelyn’s place. I don’t want anything to happen
to you.”

  It took Emma an age to get back to sleep, and she was startled awake by the rattle of rain on the roof. It wasn’t even three in the morning, but she was wide awake. The rain was relentless. Where was poor Minerva hiding? Was she somewhere sheltered?

  Come to that, would the police have locked Joss’s house when they left? Surely they wouldn’t leave the door wide open to the elements.

  It would be bad enough for Caleb to have no family left when he came home eventually. To lose his home too would compound the awfulness.

  She burrowed under the covers and dragged Mark’s arm around her for comfort. Sleep was a long time coming.

  Wednesday 12 December

  Chapter Four

  The next time Emma awoke, the rain had eased to a fine drizzle, and Mark was already up, the shower running.

  Gods. She felt like death warmed over. She intended to go to work today, as usual, and pretend that everything was normal, but right now, she wasn’t so sure.

  She waved Mark off, and then stood under the shower for an age, before gazing at the contents of her wardrobe. No use. She couldn’t go into the office, as though nothing had happened, and wait all day before going to look for Minerva. She needed to do something. Right now. She sent a message to her boss, to say she was taking the day off, and headed out.

  Assuming she found the cat, she’d need something to transport her in. There’d been a bright-pink pet carrier in Joss’s garage yesterday. Food could be sorted out later. She had to find Minerva first.

  The rain was soft and steady, and it was warm. The humidity would send Emma’s hair into a frizzy mess, but there were worse things than tangled hair. Her heart broke when she thought about Caleb, being told the news. Whatever he’d done, he didn’t deserve this.

  Emma’s phone rang through the Bluetooth connection as she drove. Mark. It was way too hard to explain why she’d ignored his request, so she let the call go to voicemail. She’d call him back later.

  Two black cars and a white panel van were parked outside Joss’s house, and crime-scene tape was draped around the house.