To Catch a Rat

by S J Grey

  “It’s good. That is, it was good. I’m in pieces over what I’ve found, though. He’s lied to me about other things and tried to convince me I’m wrong, but he’s done it too many times. I can’t believe a word he says now.”

  Miller flicked through his notebook. “In your previous interview, you didn’t mention him lying. You said you loved him and trusted him.”

  “I did. But then he told me he knew Caleb and was friends with him at uni, and when I saw Caleb, he didn’t know him at all.”

  “Anything else?”

  “When Mum and I found the cameras in Joss’s house, we joked that, if someone was watching the feed, they’d see us and might come round to stop us. And then Mark rocked up.”

  “Do you think Mark Penney installed the cameras?”

  “He once told me he spent a summer break fitting security cameras, so he has the skills and experience to do so. Assuming that wasn’t another lie.” She stretched her hands on the table, her mind jumping back and forth over everything he said. Everything she believed. “There’s something else. He told me he was worried about how secure my house is, and I agreed to his fitting outside lights and cameras, but what if he installs some hidden ones inside, too?” She looked directly at Peter. “Can you guys check to see if he’s done that?”

  The detectives glanced at each other. “We’ll come back to this,” said Miller.

  They didn’t believe her. They probably thought she was being a spiteful cow, trying to get Mark into trouble as payback for finding out he’d been married. “I’ve extracted the pictures and text relating to Mark, into a single page,” said Emma, digging into her pocket for the printout. “Here.” She handed it to Miller, and Peter looked at it with him. “He said he didn’t know Joss. Did he tell you that, too?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. May I take a copy of this?”

  Peter spoke next. “Let’s go back to where and when you found the data stick. Please talk me through the details.”

  Emma described the concealed safe and how she opened it with a pair of scissors. “My fingerprints will be all over it.”

  “And when did you examine the contents of the stick?”

  “When I got back to my parents’ place.”

  “Did you make any changes to the content?”

  “No. I know that’s something you can check easily enough, from the file stamps. I made a copy, but that’s all.”

  “What did you do with the copy?”

  “It’s on my laptop.”

  “Is there anything else you want to tell us?”

  Keeping secrets was exhausting. Emma had to remember what she’d said about Caleb abducting her, so that she didn’t contradict herself. “I don’t think so. Are you going to look at the data stick now? Can I leave?”

  There were more questions about Joss, clarifying some of the details from Emma’s previous interview, and then it was over.

  Mum waited for Emma, and was ready to drive her home.

  Emma felt wretched. The police were unlikely to tell Mark where the data stick came from, so he’d have no idea what Emma told them.

  Even if Mark had nothing to do with the cameras in Joss’s house, his lies made her sick to her stomach. She wished she’d grabbed that phone from his glovebox and checked the contents. What did he hope to gain from this deception?

  Well, duh. He wanted the same as everyone else—Caleb’s application. Emma felt like smacking herself in the forehead.

  Caleb said everybody wanted Ekho, but where did Mark fall on the sliding scale of good or bad? How did Caleb describe it? Every flavour of bad fucker you can imagine.

  Did Mark try to ease his way into Joss’s life, only to be rebuffed? He was surprised to learn Joss was gay. To learn his charm failed on her.

  When that didn’t work, he turned his attention to Emma. A new name, a new history—a new person—and this time he wormed his way into her life. Their meet-cute story. The way they liked so many of the same things. He was her one, and she was his, only now she saw it for what it was. An act.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Emma curled up in a ball on her bed, a purring Minerva snuggled next to her. The police would be interviewing Mark this afternoon. Would they arrest him? Would she get a chance to talk to him? To hear him admit that he was a barefaced liar? It might help her in the long run. At some point she had to put this relationship behind her and chalk it up to experience. It was going to hurt.

  She wanted to be wrong about the conclusions she drew, but she could only fool herself for so long. She needed something to distract herself with.

  Work. She was supposed to be working from home today, or at least be accessible for calls and queries.

  She unpacked her business laptop from its bag and booted it up. She’d check her email. Make sure everything was ticking along without her, and that the copy of Joss’s spreadsheet was filed away safely.

  She sifted through the new emails. A message from Brian, her boss caught her attention.

  Emma. I need to see you when you’re back in the office. Please let me know soonest when that will be.

  Uh oh. That didn’t sound good.

  She replied.

  Hi. I’m working from home for a few days. Is it urgent?

  If it was urgent, Brian would phone her. A couple of minutes later, while she was staring mindlessly at her files, he did.

  “Hi.” Emma made sure she sounded professional, and the polar opposite of how she felt. “What’s up?”

  “I’d rather not wait,” he said, and Emma felt a stirring of anxiety. “Any chance you could call in tomorrow morning?”

  With everything else going on, that was the last thing Emma wanted to do, but he was her boss, and her project was at the start-up stage, where she needed every bit of support she could get. “Of course. I’ll schedule a time when you’re free. Can you tell me what it’s in connection with, please?”

  He hesitated, and alarm bells rang for her. “It’s delicate,” he said. “I’d rather have it as a face-to-face conversation.”

  “Okay. I have videoconferencing on my laptop, if you want to talk now.”

  Another hesitation. “I need to include HR in the meeting too.”

  —the fuck? Oh no. This had to do with Si breaking privacy regulations. Someone must have discovered his discreet data-matching exercise and made a complaint. Damn. It wasn’t the end of the world, but she needed to get him to shut the testing down on everyone except registered volunteers. She needed to protect her team. If necessary, she could spin this as an exercise in exposing holes in the privacy processes and identifying issues that her project could resolve.

  “That’s fine,” she said, opening her schedule as she spoke. “Nine in the morning?”

  “That works. Thanks, Emma.” He sounded relieved, perhaps because he didn’t need to spell out the issue for her.

  “No worries. See you tomorrow.”

  She called Si right away, but his phone went to voicemail, so she left a message. “Hi, it’s Emma. I need you to pause the data-matching exercise for the moment. We may have hit a snag on the privacy front. I’ll be in the office tomorrow morning at nine, for a meeting with Brian, so if I don’t hear from you today, I’ll find you first thing. Cheers.”

  She hadn’t gotten much further, when her phone rang, and she answered it without checking the caller ID.

  “Hey.” It was Mark.

  She froze.

  “I’ve got everything installed at home. Why don’t I come pick you up?” His voice softened. “I missed you last night.”

  Did DS Miller re-interview him after all? Or did they write Emma off as a vindictive nutjob? Mark sounded loving and affectionate as always, and not like someone whose girlfriend had dobbed him in to the police.

  “I had to be re-interviewed this afternoon,” she said. “They wanted to talk more about the cameras we found. Did they call you back too?”

  “Yeah. It was just a quick chat. I couldn’t add anything extra. You sound
stressed. You okay?”

  Emma didn’t know what to say. “It’s been quite a day,” she said eventually. “I guess I’m tired.”

  “That bastard Rush hasn’t shown up again, has he?” A hard edge lined Mark’s voice.

  “No. Not at all.” Either the police didn’t take Emma seriously, or Mark gave them a good enough story to explain his actions. Or he was an even better actor that she suspected, and he was furious with her and hiding it.

  Her head ached, and she wanted this to be over. “What have you done at home, exactly?”

  “Motion-activated sensors front and back. They’ll trigger floodlights and cameras. I’ll get an alert on my phone if anyone approaches the doors. I’ve fitted tremblers on the windows, in case of glass breaking or someone trying to force the catches. The landlord is going to be chuffed when he sees it, and it’ll give us peace of mind. I’ll walk you through it later.”

  His words washed over her. She struggled to concentrate.

  “What do you think?”

  Shit. She missed that completely. “Uh… sorry. What did you just say?”

  “Are you ready to come home?”

  Not with you. Not ever again.

  He’d need time to pack his stuff, and she’d like to be there to supervise, to make sure he didn’t take anything of hers.

  This was the guy who swore he never met Joss, but had coffee with her on several occasions. Emma couldn’t believe anything he said.

  “I’ll ask Dad to drop me off. Save you coming out for me.”

  “It’s okay. I’m only a mile away. I’ll be there in a few minutes. See you soon.” He disconnected.

  She was breaking up with him tonight. There was no time to plan what to say.

  Chapter Twenty

  This wasn’t fair. Emma wanted time to consider what to say to Mark, to prepare in the same way as she would for a difficult meeting at work. He was pre-empting that and would catch her unawares. Vulnerable. Was that his intention? To catch her off guard?

  She needed to warn her parents. She found them talking in Dad’s office.

  “Mark’s on his way. He’ll be here any minute.” They looked surprised, and she added, “Will you please give us some space to talk?”

  The doorbell rang before they could answer.

  Emma looked up. “That’ll be him now.”

  “Go.” Mum made a shooing motion with her hands. “We’ll stay in here. If there’s any trouble, anything at all, just shout.”

  “Thanks.” Emma took a deep breath before opening the door. Her stomach churned so bad, she felt nauseous. She hated confrontation, and this was going to be awful.

  Focus on the truth, she told herself. Stay in control and don’t lose your temper.

  She clicked the latch and opened the door. It wasn’t Mark. It was a motorbike courier, bike idling at his side and a small package in his hand.

  “Hi,” he said, and flipped up the visor. It was Caleb.

  His timing couldn’t be any worse.

  She had to hide him. “My boyfriend will be here any second. Take your bike around the back—and hurry. Wait there.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He climbed on the bike and drove it quietly around the house to the yard at the back. The drive and path were paved. There were no tyre tracks visible. If Mark saw a motorbike here, he might draw the correct conclusion that Caleb had come back.

  She needed to tell her parents. She darted to Dad’s office, and they were still there. “It’s Caleb. I sent him around the back. We have to keep Mark away from him.”

  “Caleb?” they echoed together.

  “I’ll take him into the store room,” said Mum. “If Mark sees him, we’ll say he’s a friend of mine that’s visiting.”

  “He’ll recognise him.”

  Mum beamed. “Not when I’ve finished with him. Trust me, darling.”

  The doorbell pinged again, and this time it had to be Mark.

  “Be quick. Please,” Emma said and made her way to the front door, slowly. Any composure was shot to pieces. She had to be on her game if she was going to protect Caleb. One slip, and he’d be caught.

  Mark looked tired and rumpled, his hair messy, as though he’d been dragging his fingers through it. A smile lit his face, and he opened his arms to her. “Hey,” he said.

  Emma didn’t move. “We need to talk.”

  “The most-hated opening sentence in history,” he said, his smile slipping. “Are you okay? Have you seen Rush again?”

  For all his innocent demeanour, Mark was turning out to be as slippery as an eel.

  “Come in. Mum and Dad are here, but we can talk in the lounge.” She tucked her hands into her pockets, so he didn’t try to catch them as they walked.

  Mark prowled behind her, quiet as a cat. Had he always been able to do that, and she only just noticed?

  “Sit down.” She gestured to the sofa, before claiming one of the armchairs.

  He sat, his gaze distinctly wary when it met hers. “What’s happened? What did I miss?”

  “There’s no easy way to say this.”

  “Spit it out.”

  He was trying to take control of the conversation, but she couldn’t let that happen. “We’re over. I don’t want to see you again, and I want you to move out of my house.”

  He blanched, and then gave a pained laugh. “Excuse me? This is a joke, right?”

  She shook her head. “No. No joke.”

  Mark leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, hands loosely clasped. “What aren’t you telling me, Em? Has Rush threatened you? Threatened your parents?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  “Then what? Everything was great between us until he kidnapped you.” He narrowed his gaze. “What did he say to you? Really?”

  “He said he’d never seen you before in his life, but that’s not what this is about.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  “You’ve lied to me. Over and over.” She steeled her voice. “And I won’t take it anymore.”

  Concern gave way to puzzlement. “Lied? What about?”

  Anger sparked inside her. “Why don’t you tell me? I know some of the things, but there’ll be more.”

  “You’re not making sense, and I’m worried about you. What do you think I’ve lied about?”

  Where to start? The simple things. “How about your wife? Ginny. Did she really die of cancer, or is she still alive?”

  “Ginny?”

  “You said—you swore—you’d never met Joss, but you had. You went to her house with coffee. On several occasions.”

  Mark shook his head. “I don’t know where you’ve gotten that from, who told you, but it’s rubbish.”

  This was hopeless. “I have proof.” She dug into her pocket for the printout, and handed it to him. “Here. You can’t deny that’s you with Joss.”

  He gave it a quick look, but then fixed his gaze on Emma’s face. “Where did you get this? It’s important.”

  “Does it matter? That’s you, wearing a fucking wedding ring and talking about your dead wife—and her cat. You told me you were allergic.”

  Mark huffed a laugh and sat back. He lifted the printout in the air. “This is good, I’ll give you that, but it’s a forgery. A clever composite image. I’d never been to Joss’s house before you took me. When we found her.”

  Christ, but he was a good liar. He sounded sincere, and doubt flickered inside Emma.

  Mark got up and came to her chair, to hunker down at her side. “Look at the reflection in the kitchen window. See how it looks sharp? It should be blurred. And that’s my face, but it isn’t me. I’ve never been married. I promise you.”

  She looked at the image. She’d stared at it so much, she’d practically memorized each pixel, but she examined it again.

  “You’re finishing with me because you found some faked pictures?” His voice was gentle. “Let’s talk about it. You’re too smart to be taken in by shit like this. What other lies do you think I’ve told you? A
t least give me a chance to defend myself. Where did you get these pictures?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “If you don’t tell me, I don’t get the opportunity to refute it. That’s not very fair.”

  “It’s not fair that Joss is dead or that her home was trashed, or that Caleb was locked up. Life isn’t fair.”

  “Who gave you this, Em? Was it Rush?”

  Should she tell him? She doubted the police would have, if they even called him back in. “It came from Joss’s house. I found it when we were cleaning up.”

  “Okay.”

  He was amazingly calm, and that reminded her of how he behaved when Caleb supposedly abducted her. She’d never seen Mark angry or stressed. Or anxious. What would he be like if he snapped?

  “It didn’t strike you as odd that you found it there? Like it was planted for you to find?”

  “Why would Joss do that? And if she didn’t know you, why would she use your image?”

  “I don’t think it was her. I think someone else left it. Someone with a grudge against me.” Mark closed his hands over hers. “Come on, love. Think about it. I love you, and what we have is amazing. Don’t let someone try to push us apart.”

  He was persuasive—he might be telling the truth about this—but Emma’s gut instinct told her there was more, and she was a great believer in listening to her instincts.

  “It’s not just these pictures,” she said, tugging her hands back. “I didn’t imagine that phone in your glovebox. I didn’t just catch a quick glimpse of it; I saw it. You tried to fob me off and tell me I was mistaken.”

  “Okay. Let’s say there was, but I didn’t put it there. And whoever did, moved it again before I saw it.”

  “That’s not very likely.”

  “So why don’t we try to figure out who put it there and why?” He made it sound reasonable. “What else have you got?”

  “Your timing to come to Joss’s house when we were there. It was right after we found the cameras.”