by S J Grey
She ignored his question. “Why aren’t you in work?”
“I took today off, to sort out the lights and cameras at home. While I was making a shopping list, I remembered this place and called Miller. I’m glad I did. Would you have told me?”
Emma wanted to believe him. His story was plausible, and she could check with DS Miller. “I would have told you later,” she said.
“Sweetheart, I don’t like you being here. What do I have to say, in order to make you both leave?”
“Dad’s on his way over, to fix the front door. There’s a policeman outside. I think we’re pretty safe.” It wasn’t worth reiterating that Caleb wouldn’t hurt her.
Mark sighed. “In that case, I’ll stay here with you, and help.”
What could she say? She hesitated.
His gaze skittered to the saucepan on the floor, and then up to her mother. “You’re fiddling with a light fitting, with a Swiss Army knife. What exactly are you doing up there?”
“Emma, darling, he’s here now. We may as well tell him.” Mum climbed down from the footstool. “We’ve found bugs. Cameras. And so we’re looking at them.”
Mark crouched and peered into the pan. He stuck his hand into the water and pulled out the device. “Where did you find this?”
“The entrance hall,” said Emma. “Joss thought she was being spied on, and she was right.”
“And you’ve another one up there?”
“Yes.”
“How did you find them?” He examined it. He was amazingly cool about this, and suspicion pinged in Emma’s chest. Did he know about these already?
“Mum downloaded an app that locates them.”
“An app, huh? Good work, Sandra.” He dropped it, and it hit the water with a little splash. “Have you spoken to the police?”
“Not yet,” said Mum, just as Emma said yes.
Mark looked from one to the other. “Which is it? Not yet or yes?”
Emma gave her mum a fierce don’t-say-anything-more glare, before she replied. “I left a message for DS Miller, but he’s not called me back yet.”
“He needs to see these.” Mark wiped his wet hand on his jeans, as he peered up at the light fitting. “The one you’re trying to extract now is a different colour. Is it a different model?” He stepped onto the stool and made a careful study of the fitting. “Yeah,” he said, as though talking to himself. “This is different.” He picked at something with his fingernail, and then tugged, and the object came free.
“Look,” he said, holding out the device for Emma and her mother to see. “This looks dirtier. Older, maybe.” It was also a dull metal object, instead of the black ones they found earlier, and had a set of tiny characters stamped onto the side. Arabic? Cyrillic?
“It can go in the same place, though.” Mark tossed it into the pan. “Damn. I shouldn’t have touched this. I should have left it in situ, as evidence. Also, there may have been fingerprints.”
Mum looked sceptical. “You’re telling me a professional whatever-they-call-themselves bug-fitter wouldn’t be wearing gloves?”
“True.” He paused. “Do you think there are any more?”
Again, Emma spoke before her mother could. “Yeah. We think there are a couple more down here.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t wait for Miller to arrive.” He looked from Emma to her mum, and back again. “I can’t believe,” he repeated, his voice low, “that you didn’t call me. Don’t you trust me, Em?”
Chapter Fifteen
“It’s my fault Emma didn’t call you,” said Mum. “I wanted to get on and find them all. I got caught up in the moment.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”
Mark’s gaze searched Emma’s face. “Thanks, Sandra,” he said, but he continued to stare at Emma. She could read the question on his face. Why?
It would be so easy to say, of course I trust you, but she couldn’t. “Let’s not fight about this,” she said instead.
Hurt flashed in his eyes, but he recovered quickly. “Okay. Why don’t you show me where you think the other bugs are?”
Emma didn’t tell Mark about the ones upstairs. Why? She didn’t understand her own logic. She also didn’t tell him about the data stick in her pocket. How did Joss manage to hide it, without the cameras picking it up? There were only a few options. She either hid the stick before the cameras were fitted, she somehow disabled them—which meant she knew where they were—or the people watching the feed saw her hiding it.
In which case, if they were after Caleb’s tool, why didn’t they steal it already? Or had they, and replaced it with this stick?
This was madness. Emma was going to drive herself insane if she kept second- and third-guessing everything.
Think logically. Joss knew she was being watched. She would have taken precautions before hiding this most sensitive data.
Mark was examining the cameras, and Mum was engrossed texting Dad, so Emma loaded the browser on her phone. It was a simple question—how to avoid a surveillance camera?
It was possible to do, if Joss had an idea of their locations. Super-bright lights blazing or strobing would disrupt the live feed and make it difficult for anyone to follow her actions.
What would Emma find on the data stick? She needed to plug it into her laptop, but that was at Mum’s place. Caleb’s computer equipment was gone, and when they checked Joss’s room, there was no sign of a PC or laptop. Someone had been in and taken it all, and trashed the house to cover it up.
If Caleb was right, and they—whoever they were—were after his application, they’d stolen every item of PC kit they could find, but missed Joss’s secret hiding place. And now possibly watched Emma retrieve it.
She went cold at the idea. She might have unwittingly made herself into a giant target. It was more urgent than ever to check out this stick and meet up with Caleb.
Emma logged into Amazon and searched for To Kill a Mockingbird. There were several different versions available, so she navigated to the main paperback edition and to the Write a customer review button. She gave it a one-star rating and typed her headline. This just didn’t cut it for me. Damn, she now had to write comments too. What could she say? It wanted a minimum of fifty characters. I didn’t like the hidden subtext in this story. Too many secrets.
She hit the Submit button, the screen updated and thanked her for posting a review, and she was done. It wouldn’t be posted right away, but she knew from previous reviews she’d left that she’d receive an email when it was published.
How soon would Caleb see it?
“Hey.” Mark stood at her side, glancing at her phone. “I forgot to ask. Why is the music in here so damn loud?”
Did he see what she was doing? Emma shoved the phone in her pocket. “Mum had the idea that if there were hidden microphones, it’d make it hard for anyone to pick up what we were saying. We’ve found cameras, so there’s every reason to believe someone’s listening as well. The music stays on.”
“Okay.” He held his hands up, as if surrendering. “It’s all good. Are you okay, love? You look kinda freaked out.”
“We found evidence that someone was watching Joss. That they might be watching us, right now. Yes. I’m kinda freaked out.”
“Come here.” He opened his arms, and after a moment’s hesitation she stepped into his embrace. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, Em, but it’s not easy when you hide stuff from me. I wouldn’t have known you were here if I hadn’t talked to Miller.” He pressed a kiss against her hair. “If I’d asked you outright, Are you at the Rush house? would you have told me?”
“Probably.” Maybe. “Why didn’t you?”
He sighed. “I didn’t want to back you into a position where you lied to my face. I gave you the opportunity to fess up, instead.”
“I’m stressed with everything that’s happening. I want to trust you, Mark, but it’s not easy.”
“Just try, okay? Take a leap of faith.” His arms were strong around her, and she relaxed agai
nst him.
She loved him, she really did, and this doubt of hers was going to tear her apart.
“Did you find anything else? Anything you haven’t told me yet?” His gaze was guileless.
“I found that Mum carries a Swiss Army knife everywhere and is addicted to spy movies. Does that count?”
He huffed a laugh. “No more secrets, love. Please.”
She clung to him a moment longer, then stepped back and fixed a smile on her face. “While you’re here, do you want to help with the clean-up?”
“Sure. You and Sandra going to show me where the other cameras are, first? I’d like to see this app.” He held out his hand, and she took it, tangling their fingers together.
“Yes. We’ll do that.”
Together with her mum, they showed Mark how the app worked, and identified the location of a camera in the lights in the dining room, and two in the garage. By this time, DS Miller had arrived, accompanied by a plain clothed female officer introduced as DC Shore.
Miller examined the cameras they’d already removed, and then the ones still in situ. His face was impassive. “We have a first responder for digital crimes that I need to call in. They’ll decide how we proceed from here. I should warn you this might have no connection to Ms Rush’s death.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit,” said Emma. “Joss said repeatedly that she thought she was being spied on, and here’s the proof. Hidden cameras all over the house. How much more evidence do you need?”
Miller shrugged. “It could be argued that Ms Rush might have fitted these, or her brother did. He’s an expert in digital security, as we all know. They’re not necessarily illegal. Ms. Rush might have used them to film herself with her boyfriend, for instance.”
“Girlfriend,” said Emma. “She was gay, but that’s completely irrelevant.” Mark tensed beside her, and Emma glanced at him.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“God, yes. That’s why her stepfather gave her such a hard time. One of the reasons, anyway. Why? Is it important?”
“No, not at all. I was just surprised.”
“And another thing,” said Emma to the detective. “There’s no computer equipment here at all. Caleb had several PCs and laptops, and so did Joss. Where are they all? Have they been stolen?”
Miller gazed at her, his stare intense. “Are you formally notifying me that there’s been a burglary?”
“Yes.”
“Can you provide me with the details of everything that’s been stolen?”
She hesitated, frustration burning inside her. “No, I can’t. I can only guess.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Blackthorne.” His voice was gentle. “I know you want answers, but I can’t help you. I have to follow due process. I’ll let you know if your discovery means the investigation is re-opened.”
It wasn’t anywhere close to what she wanted, but it was a step in the right direction.
Another detective—“call me Dave”—arrived and examined the cameras with interest. He asked questions about what they’d done and where they thought the other cameras were, and again, Emma refrained from mentioning the ones in Caleb’s room. She wanted to see if he’d find them.
Call-me-Dave conferred with DS Miller and the silent female officer, and then Miller updated them.
“We’re calling in the High Tech Crime Group, among others. I’m afraid this is now a crime scene again, and I must ask you to leave.”
“My dad’s on his way here, to repair the front door and make it safe. Can he still do that?”
Miller shook his head. “Sorry, but we need to seal off the place. I’ll let you know as soon as we’ve finished here. It could be a few days, depending on what we find.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mark insisted Emma go back to her parents’, and he went to continue setting up his security system. She ought to feel happier that her home was going to be safer, but the idea didn’t sit well with her. Not after finding all the cameras that were spying on Joss.
What if Mark fitted some secret cameras along with the ones he talked about? He’d be able to watch her at home, when she was alone. God. It was entirely possible Emma’s imagination was running away with her. Mark’s arriving shortly after her finding the bugs was just a coincidence. Wasn’t it?
Exhaustion caught up with her, and she thought longingly of a soak in the bath and a glass of wine. Before she could do that, she had to see if Amazon had published her review yet, and of course, investigate the data stick.
Minerva seemed pleased to see her, and actually rubbed against her knees when Emma walked into the bedroom. Mum suggested to keep her separated from the other cats for a couple of days. It was a good plan. There was no urgency.
While Mum seemed invigorated by the activity today, and almost excited by finding and dismantling the spy cameras, it was too much for Emma. The drama over Joss, Caleb, and Mark made her stomach ache. Was it only a few days ago that she’d been excited about her presentation to the CE? It could have been a different lifetime.
Emma sat up on the bed, her laptop on her knees, and checked email first. Her review was live.
How would Caleb make contact with her? He was still on the run. DS Miller would tell her if they caught him.
Caleb must have access to the internet, in order to check for the Amazon review. Knowing him, he probably had her location confirmed from her browser activity, so he’d try to contact her here, at her parents’ place. Or maybe he’d acquired a burner phone and would call or text. She’d have to wait and see.
Next, she turned her attention to the data stick. What were the chances this had a virus on it? If Joss planted it in the safe, she hoped it was meant for Caleb, and therefore it should be clean. Maybe.
She inserted it into a spare port and watched, her heart in her throat, as the operating system acknowledged the new device. In the worst case, if this trashed her hard drive, she could rebuild it from her cloud backups. It would be a giant pain in the ass but doable.
She clicked the icon. The circle spun as it loaded, and then a folder opened. She cast her eyes down the list of files inside. There were dozens of image files and a spreadsheet. Huh? The spreadsheet was small—21k—and none of the pictures were over 700k in size. Where was the application Caleb expected to find? The code he spent months developing?
Maybe there were hidden files. She checked the capacity of the data stick, but it matched up. This was all it held.
Should she look at the contents? Joss made sure these files were in the safest of places, somewhere that escaped the search made of her home. They had to be important. Curiosity warred with concern, and won. She sorted the images into date order, and clicked on the oldest, dated almost three years ago. After Caleb went to prison.
It was a photograph of a laptop screen, probably taken with Joss’s phone. It was slightly blurred, the image jagged, but it clearly showed a message in the middle of her screen. A pop-up.
Hello J. How are you today?
Was it a message from Caleb? He used to call her J.
The next was similar. Another screenshot, a different pop-up.
Looking good today, J. Cool haircut.
Emma flicked through the images. One after the other, they were messages from an un unknown source.
I can’t call you. They’ll trace it. This is the only way to communicate.
Please tell me the code is safe. Don’t let anyone else have it.
I’m worried someone is watching you. Trust nobody.
I’m going to give you an email address you can use for me. Send the code there for safekeeping.
They couldn’t be from Caleb. He’d never ask her to email it to him. Whoever was behind this had to be crazy if they thought Joss would do that.
I did it all for you, J. He deserved what he got. I would do anything to protect you.
No. Definitely not from Caleb. So who was it? Joss was clearly suspicious, otherwise why keep a visual record of the messages?
&nb
sp; Emma carried on clicking through the pictures. More messages asking her to trust him, and then something different.
A picture of Mark, sitting at the table in Joss’s kitchen.
What the holy fuck?
She increased the image size, to fill the screen, and examined the details. Was she mistaken? No. This was Mark or his doppelgänger.
He said he never met Joss. Another lie.
She stared at the photo, flying back and forth over the details. Sun filtered through the window and lit up cardboard cups of takeout coffee in front of him. Mark’s hair was longer, almost to his collar, and a rough beard covered his chin, but she’d know him anywhere.
He wore a wedding ring.
For a few moments, Emma forgot how to breathe. Black spots danced in her vision, and she dragged in a painful breath.
He’d never been married or come close, or so he said. It was another point of connection between them—they’d never been so deeply in love before. Mark told Emma she was The One, but here he sat, with a fucking wedding ring on his finger.
If she wanted any more proof he was lying through his straight, white teeth, it was this.
Emma couldn’t look at it. She slammed down the lid of her laptop and gazed unseeing at the window. Minerva edged closer and butted her hand, and Emma stroked the cat.
Tears pressed at her eyes, and she swiped them away.
So this was what betrayal looked like.
Was there any possibility Emma was wrong? Anything that might redeem this horrible situation? What if he was there with Caleb, not Joss?
She forced herself to open the laptop and go back to the picture. The date-stamp was over two years old.
The angle of the photo was weird, like it had been taken at waist height. Mark was looking at the cups on the table, seemingly unaware his picture was being taken.