To Catch a Rat

by S J Grey

  The police were still here. Should she come back later?

  Emma thought of a frightened Minerva, cowering away from these strangers, and that was enough to get her moving again. She parked near the van. They shouldn’t turn her away. Not when she explained why she was here.

  A man in a dark suit walked up to her car and knocked on the window. Emma opened it, and the guy leaned down to her level.

  “And who might you be?” His voice was deep, with a hint of a Scottish accent. Shrewd, grey eyes stared back at her.

  “I’m Emma Blackthorne. I’m a friend of Joss’s.” She had to pause, to reorganise her thoughts. “I was a friend. And I’m here to pick up her cat.”

  He didn’t move or reply. Just stared at her.

  She sought to fill the conversational gap. “Joss asked me to take Minerva if anything happened to her, and I forgot yesterday.”

  “Ah, yes. You found Ms. Rush.”

  She nodded.

  He rubbed his chin, seemingly unconcerned by the rain cascading down. “I haven’t seen a cat. You sure it’s here?”

  This was like the conversation with Mark. “She. Not it. And yes. This is—was—her home.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you in the house.”

  As he spoke, two people dressed from head to toe in white coveralls emerged through the front door.

  “More forensics?”

  Emma didn’t realise she’d spoken until he replied. “Yes. We’re restricting access. I need to ask you to leave, Ms. Blackthorne.”

  Her gaze was fixed on the two men in white. They spoke to another guy, similarly dressed, and then re-entered the house with him.

  The detective was trying to get rid of her, but she wouldn’t go without Minerva. “Can I search the outbuildings for her? The cat?”

  “And then you’ll go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stay here, while I go and clear it.”

  “Okay.”

  He strode off and climbed into one of the cars.

  While she waited, Emma picked up Mark’s voicemail.

  “Hi,” he said. “You’re probably on the train. I’ve managed to juggle my schedule and can get home earlier. To save you the upset of going back to Jocelyn’s place, I’ll go straight there from the airport. If I find the cat, I’ll let you know. See you later.”

  Emma stared at her phone. How much earlier did he mean? It was academic, anyway. She intended to find Minerva and get home within a couple of hours.

  The suited policeman approached her car. She’d assumed he was police, but who else could it be? She’d ask.

  “Okay,” he said through her open window. “Outbuildings only. You can have thirty minutes.”

  Emma closed up the car and climbed out. “Can I see some ID, please?”

  His lips curved in a hint of a smile. “Of course. Detective Sergeant Miller.” He dug into a jacket pocket and produced a wallet, which he opened and flashed at her. She caught a glimpse of a shiny metal badge, along with a photo ID card. A second later, he was tucking it back inside his jacket.

  It looked like a police badge. Emma remembered only too well what those looked like.

  “Ready?” He asked.

  She nodded. “I saw a pet carrier in the garage yesterday, so I’ll start in there.” She tucked her head down, to avoid the rain, and headed toward the garage, only to find Miller walking beside her.

  “Didn’t I mention it?” His tone was conversational. “I’m coming you with you.”

  “Just make sure you don’t frighten her.”

  He held up his hands. “My orders are to accompany you. That’s all.”

  Whatever. More like he wanted to make sure she didn’t go back into the house. “Has someone told Caleb?” She had to know.

  “The brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “I believe so.” It wasn’t a real answer, but it would have to do.

  They reached the garage, and Emma saw the pink carrier on the same shelf as before. She took it down and took a quick peek inside. It was clean, and the folded towel was dry and smelled fresh. Had Jocelyn been expecting to use it soon?

  Having the box was one thing, though. Finding the cat was another entirely. “This might take some time,” she said.

  Miller shrugged. “You’ve half an hour. After that, you’re leaving.”

  She gave him the side-eye. “You do believe me, don’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  Emma paused and tried to focus her thoughts on where they needed to be. The place with the least disturbance was the barn. A high shelf ran along one wall, and it’d be warm and dry in there. She should have brought some cat food with her. Minerva was probably hungry.

  “Can one of your people please get me something from the kitchen, to entice her with? There’ll be cat food in there,” she said.

  Miller regarded her for a moment, but then nodded, reached for his phone, and sent a text. “What’s your plan, then? Leave a pile of food on the ground and wait for it to appear?”

  She didn’t bother correcting him this time. “I don’t know. Okay? I’m winging it here.” To her immense frustration, her voice cracked and tears burned in her eyes. No. She wasn’t crying in front of this unfeeling bastard.

  He sighed. “Come on. We’ll find her. Joe’s fetching a box of biscuits and a bowl. It’s a good idea.”

  His calm words steadied her, and she dragged her composure back in place. “Thank you.”

  Sure enough, another man walked into the garage with a box of dry cat food and a small china dish. He handed them over without a word.

  “Thanks,” said Miller, and the guy nodded and left.

  Emma plucked the things from his hands. “I think she’s most likely to be in the barn, and I also think I stand a better chance of doing this alone. She’s scared of strangers.”

  “By your own admission, you haven’t seen her in years. You’re not exactly on best-friend terms.”

  The fuck? “How do you know that?”

  “I watched the interview from yesterday.” He made it sound obvious.

  Emma hated that he was right. She hated that she was here at all. “Sit down quietly in there and don’t say a word, okay?”

  He smirked at her sharp words, and she scowled back at him. His very presence would make this a hundred times harder.

  Emma stalked into the barn, Miller at her side. She paused and listened, but didn’t hear any scrabbling sounds. No noise of a cat taking cover. She poured biscuits into the bowl, and then called Minerva. Two… three times Emma called her name, but the cat didn’t appear. It was a long shot, assuming she’d be in here, but it was the only plan Emma had. With a sigh, she sat on the dusty floor, her back against the wall. The rain hadn’t made it in here, so it was still her best chance.

  “We might be here a while,” she said to Miller. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  She expected him to balk at dirtying his suit, but he dropped to sit beside her, without complaint.

  Emma glanced at the detective. “Are you treating this as a murder investigation?”

  “I thought you said no talking?”

  “Why are you here? Why aren’t you looking for whoever did this to Joss?”

  “I’m assisting in this investigation. I have a wide brief.” He spread his hands. “It includes helping to find lost cats. So tell me, Emma Blackthorne, since we are actually talking, how well did you know Jocelyn Rush and her brother?”

  Chapter Five

  Emma really didn’t feel in the mood for playing games. “If you’ve watched the video interview, you know I already answered that.”

  “Maybe I want to hear it again.”

  There was a scratching noise on the other side of the barn. She held up her hand, and he stopped talking.

  Emma listened, her head cocked on one side. “Minerva?” she called softly. “Min?” She rattled the biscuits in their bowl. Please let this be her. Please let this one little thing go right today. Emma’s heart was lod
ged securely in her throat, while she waited, half-expecting to see a blackbird, flying low across the ground, or a cheeky pukeko, strutting through the entrance.

  Instead, she heard a faint miaow.

  Emma sat absolutely still and waited. There was another mew, and then a blur of movement, a streak of dark tabby leaping up to the high shelf. Minerva. Relief trickled through Emma’s veins, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

  “That’s her?” Miller whispered.

  “Yes.” Emma scrambled to her feet and hurried to the far side of the barn, the bowl of biscuits clutched in her hand. “Min,” she called. “Come on, puss. Come and get some food.” It wasn’t important, what she said. What mattered was to keep her tone soothing and friendly, to coax the skittish cat close enough to pick up.

  It worked. Minerva came to the edge of the shelf and peered over. She was near enough to stroke, and Emma slid her fingers against the short, warm fur. It was dry. Minerva’d been out of the rain.

  “Good girl,” Emma crooned. She groped for Min’s collar. Her fingertips brushed against it, but Minerva took a step back.

  Damn. It sucked, to ask for help, but if Miller insisted on being here, she might as well use him.

  “I can’t reach,” she said. “Can you?”

  “Sure.” He’d snuck up to her side without her noticing. Stretching up, he smoothed down the cat’s back, while taking hold of the collar. Min squeaked, but he gripped and tugged, ignoring her obvious resistance. One final pull, and he had her, one hand on the collar, the other supporting her underneath.

  “Grab the box,” he said.

  Minerva squirmed and struggled in his arms, her claws swiping. Her hiss spoke volumes.

  Getting her into the carrier took another marathon effort, with both Emma and Miller guiding her inside, one furious paw at a time. How could it be so hard, to get one small feline into a box? With a final click of the latch, the lid closed, and Min gave a pitiful wail.

  Emma blew back the lock of hair that tumbled into her eyes. “Thank you. I’ll take her home now.”

  Miller nodded. He examined his hands and brought one bloodied finger to his lips, to suck clean. “Sharp claws, that one.” A scratch ran over the back of his other hand, and he had another scrape on his chin.

  “I’m sure you’ll live,” quipped Emma. She felt instantly guilty. She was only here because Joss died. This was not the time for lame jokes. She hugged the pet carrier to her chest. “Joss was worried that someone was harassing her. I told the detectives last night, and I’m telling you, because someone has to stand up for Joss, now she can’t do it anymore.” Like a clockwork toy running down, she had no words left.

  “We’ll do our best.” He dug into his pocket and handed her a business card. “If you think of anything else, no matter how small, here’s my number.”

  Driving home, a howling cat complaining with every mile that passed, Emma forced herself to concentrate. She needed to buy cat food and set up a litter tray. Should she tell the landlord? Or wait until she’d figured out what to do with Minerva? If he refused to let her stay, Emma could ask her mum to take Min.

  Right now, she had to get Minerva settled at home, while she went out to buy the essentials. She hadn’t planned this at all. Talking of planning… She had to get back to work in the morning. Min would be on her own all day. Emma rubbed her forehead, trying to push past the headache taking hold.

  Her phone rang through the Bluetooth connection with an unknown number. It might be work. She pressed answer. “Hi. This is Emma.”

  “This is Detective Constable Phipps. I mentioned that we’d need you to come and formally ID Ms. Rush. Would you be able to do that tomorrow?”

  She remembered the fresh-faced young detective from the interview yesterday. Shit. Was there nobody else who could do it?

  Of course there wasn’t. The only living member of Joss’s family was incarcerated.

  “Ms. Blackthorne?”

  “Yes.” It came out as a whisper. She cleared her throat. “Yes. Can I do it after work?”

  “That’s fine. I’ll text the details to you. Thank you.” He ended the call.

  Emma had to pull off the road, her vision blurred with tears. “Why did you come to me, Joss?” She spoke aloud, over Minerva’s constant grumbling. “There must have been someone else. Why me?”

  It was a question she’d never get the answer to.

  Emma was consumed with getting Minerva settled in her bedroom and okay to leave alone for an hour, while she hurried to the supermarket for the essentials. It was only when Mark phoned, catching her again in the car, that she recalled her plan for calling him back. Yeah, like anything was going to plan at the moment.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice slightly muffled through the audio speaker. “I’m just about to board my flight. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. Do you want to leave work early, to go look for the cat with me?”

  “Ah. About that. I have her. I went there first thing. I didn’t go to work.”

  Silence greeted her words.

  “I meant to call you back. Sorry. I’ve not messed up your schedule for today, have I?” she said.

  “I asked you to wait for me. Why didn’t you?” He spoke slowly.

  She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or worried. “I didn’t like the idea of her being out in the rain. The house is all taped up as a crime scene, but the detectives let me go in the barn, and that was where she was.”

  “Okay. That’s okay.” He blew out a breath. “Where are you now?”

  His tone was odd, and alarm jangled at her nerves, already stretched beyond comfort. “Mark, what’s wrong?”

  “You haven’t seen the news yet? Where are you, Em?”

  “I’m in the car, on the way home from the supermarket. What news?” What could possibly have happened now?

  “Caleb Rush has escaped from prison.”

  What? Emma stared blindly at her phone, sitting in a cradle on her dashboard. Caleb was free?

  “Did you hear me, Em?”

  “Yes. I’ll be home in a few minutes. I’ll call you back.”

  “I’ll be on my flight. Lock all the doors and windows, and don’t open the door to anyone. I’ll call you as soon as I get off the plane. Stay safe. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” It was an automatic response. He’d disconnected.

  Mark was over-reacting. He had to be.

  It was tempting, to call up the news page on her phone, but she couldn’t think about this right now. She needed to focus on the road. Get home in one piece.

  The rest of the journey was a blur. It felt like moments later that she climbed out of the car and hauled her shopping bags to the front of the house. She was about to unlock the door, when she heard a footstep behind her.

  Emma spun around, keys in her hand.

  A uniformed policeman gazed back at her. “Emma Blackthorne?”

  He was absurdly young. Wasn’t it supposed to be a sign of getting old, when policemen and doctors looked young? She was only thirty.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Constable Vickery. May I come in for a moment?”

  Mark’s warning filtered through her brain. Was she in some kind of danger? She might get to hear the details first hand. “Sure.”

  He followed her into the hallway, where she placed her bags on the floor.

  “Just a second,” said Emma. “I need to check something.” She opened the bedroom door with care, to peep through a narrow gap. Minerva was sitting on the bed, staring back at her.

  Relief warmed Emma’s chest. “Hey, there.” She walked into the room and watched as Min leapt off the bed and darted underneath. Okay, Emma should have expected her to be nervous. Was it best to keep her locked in here, or to let her have the run of the house?

  In here, to start with. Another few minutes wouldn’t hurt, while she talked to the police.

  PC Vickery stood where she left him. Broad-shouldered and solidly built, he filled the nar
row hallway. He gave her a nod. “This morning, at around ten-fourteen, Caleb Rush escaped from Rimutaka Prison. If he tries to make contact with you, please call the police immediately.”

  “Around ten-fourteen? That’s quite specific.” Emma didn’t know why she got hung up on that detail. Maybe it was easier to process than the rest of the message. “How did he escape?”

  “I don’t have the details.”

  “You can’t think I’m in any danger from him?”

  Vickery’s face didn’t give anything away. “I couldn’t say, but if you feel unsafe or have any suspicions that he’s here, don’t hesitate to call one-one-one.” He gave her a nod. “I’ll be off.”

  Was this why Mark insisted she didn’t go to Joss’s house alone? No, that couldn’t be right. It was last night when Mark said that.

  Emma watched as PC Vickery drove away, his patrol car splashing through the puddles. Her thoughts ran wild. Caleb was free.

  She clung to the idea that he didn’t kill his stepfather.

  If this was a Hollywood movie, with Morgan Freeman playing Caleb’s lawyer, Caleb would have been cleared, but reality was different. The defence argument was wafer thin at best. Paired with Emma’s stammered testimony and some dubious witness sightings, he’d been convicted of manslaughter and told he would serve a sentence of six years.

  Rimutaka Prison was only a couple of hours’ drive away. If Joss figured out where Emma lived, then Caleb probably also knew. He might be here now, hiding from the rain, like Minerva did.

  Emma shivered. He wouldn’t hurt her. Not Caleb. So why did she still feel spooked?

  Chapter Six

  Emma set out wet and dry cat foods, a bowl of water, and a deep plastic tray filled with litter granules. Next, she checked each window was closed, and then she released the cat from her room. Or at least, she opened the bedroom door. Minerva was nowhere to be seen.

  A quick peek showed her to still be underneath the bed, glaring at Emma.

  She’d come out when she got hungry. Maybe.

  It was past noon, and Emma was starving. She fixed herself some coffee, smeared peanut butter onto a slice of bread, and took them both back into the bedroom. There, sitting on the bed, laptop on her knees, she called up the national news.