by S J Grey
“Let’s run through them quickly now.” Emma was conscious that the guy in question sat waiting patiently outside for her. “Your code might be flawed. And if it is, it’s good to find out now, so you can fix it.”
He nodded. “Definitely. But I’ve run this matching process using over thirty subjects now, and his is the only one to come back like this.”
“Thirty people?”
He shrugged. “I expanded the search criteria to the wider department. Just for a beta test. I’m aware of the privacy rules, and I’m deleting the data after correlation.”
She’d let that pass for the moment. “You said his records might have been sealed. What would cause that?”
“New Zealand runs a clean-slate scheme. If you have convictions, as long as you don’t reoffend within seven years, they are effectively sealed. It doesn’t work on all conviction types, but it’s a possibility that might skew the datasets.”
Could Mark have a criminal record? Surely not. “What was the third option?”
“That he legally changed his name to Mark Penney in June 2017, and thus his records were updated to match.”
“If he did that, any historical references to him would still be showing his old name, right?”
“Yes.”
“He told me he went to Victoria University. He studied commerce, I think. His name should appear on the student list.”
“That’s easy enough to check.” Si flicked to his browser and rattled out a search string. Moments later, he pulled up a list of names. “These are students who took part in a charity fundraiser in 2006. They took part in the Round the Bays race, all dressed in onesies.”
She remembered that. Caleb took part in the race, and Joss sent her a photo of him with his friends.
Mark’s name was there, along with scores of others.
“Not that option, then,” said Si. “Which leaves us with Option Four—that Mark Penney didn’t exist before June 2017.”
Emma pointed at Si’s browser and the list of students who took part in the race. “In that case, how can there be a reference to him in 2006?”
“That’s easy and complicated at the same time. It means a backstory has been created for him.” Si shrugged again. “The question I’d be asking, is why? Why go to all the trouble of inserting his name into things like this? That’s a hell of a lot of work, just on the off chance someone might dig up some history on him. The only reason I can come up with would be if he went into a witness-protection scheme.”
Or to make it look as though he’d been here the whole time.
Chapter Twelve
Mark’s lie about knowing Caleb looked like the tip of a freaking iceberg, and Emma had no idea how to proceed. Her mind spun with the facts Si laid out for her.
She scrambled to come up with a response. “Si, I appreciate the effort you’ve put in, even if the results are… well… unsettling. There has to be a logical answer for this, and much as I hate to say it, you need to check the algorithm. Especially before you do any further matching. Okay?”
“Yep.” He rocked back on his heels. “I’ve got some ideas about data smoothing, and additional integrity checks I can run, so I’ll build those into the next round of tests.”
Emma heard the words but was having difficulty focusing. She nodded. “Do that.”
“There’ll be a reason why this looks dodgy. You don’t need to worry about it.”
“I know, and thank you. And Si, if you find anything else about Mark, will you let me know?”
“You got it.”
If Emma found a window that overlooked Mark’s car, would she see him there, tapping away on a phone he claimed didn’t exist? No. It was crazy to think like that. She had to be objective and concentrate on the facts, instead of the maybes.
When she left the building, he stood next to his car, arms resting on the roof, his gaze fixed on the exit. The pleasure on his face when he saw her looked genuine.
“Hey,” he said. “Everything okay? You were ages.”
Emma stashed her laptop bag in the back of the car and managed to smile. “Si was still there. He updated me on a workshop he attended. You know, he didn’t even notice I wasn’t in today.” She intended it to sound like a joke but wasn’t sure it came out like that.
Emma pretended to be engrossed with something on her phone, as they drove home. She had no clue what to say to Mark. Who are you? How many lies have you told me, and why? Are you a compulsive liar or are you trying to hide something? Or protect someone?
At Caleb’s trial, the barrister for the prosecution talked at length about why people lie. He said it boiled down to one of four reasons. To protect themselves, to protect someone else, to benefit themselves, or to avoid conflict. He argued that Joss lied to protect her brother, and her testimony should be discounted. He painted a picture of Bill Doyle as an innocent victim, and the jury bought every word.
Emma would drive herself insane if she kept second-guessing Mark. She’d wait to see if Si could dig up any further information, and then she’d talk to Mark. Lay out the facts. Ask him to explain.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Avoidance sounded good right now.
She dozed through the hour-long journey back out of town in the other direction, only lifting her head when they pulled up outside her house.
“Feel better for that?”
She heard the smile in Mark’s voice. Whatever his motivation, his concern for her—his affection—was too good to be faked.
“Uh huh.”
Her weekend bag was where she left it, and Minerva was sleeping on the bed. While the cat was half-asleep and docile, it wasn’t so hard to put her in the pet carrier.
“We’re ready,” she said. “Could you please grab Min’s food and take my bag?”
“Sure.” He locked the house with care behind them and stashed the luggage on the back seat. “I need to get the lock on the boot fixed. The police had to bust it open, to let me out, and it’s held together with wire at the moment.”
“Okay.” Emma made sure Min’s box was securely positioned on her lap for the journey. She preferred that, to leaving the cat in the back. This way she could talk to her and stroke her face through the grille.
Would Caleb ever get to see his cat again? It didn’t look likely.
Emma’s mum waited at the front door, to greet them, and gave both Emma and Mark huge bearhugs. It was one of the many things that made her so special.
“This must be Minerva,” she said, taking the carrier. “I’ve made your room safe for her and put a litter tray in the en-suite. You’re the only person she knows, so I figured it would make it easier for her to settle in if you’re there too.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“I was so upset to hear about Joss. Poor girl. She was never the same after Bill died.” Her mother turned to Mark. “Are you going to stay the night? Or at least for dinner?”
“Thanks, Sandra, but I have to get back. I’m only dropping off Emma and the cat.” He held up his hands. “Sorry. Minerva.” He grabbed the bags from the car and followed Emma into the house. “Geoff around? I wanted to talk to you both before I go.”
Oh God. He was going to tell them what Caleb did today. Emma planned to update them later. Much later. “Come with me,” she said to Mark. “We can let Min out of the box.”
He went with her to the spare room—the one they shared when they both stayed overnight.
With the door closed, Emma opened the carrier and watched Min leap out. While the cat walked around, sniffing the furniture and exploring the bathroom, Emma sat on the bed. “You’re going to tell them what happened today, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” He stood with his arms folded, looking as serious as she’d ever seen him. “They need to know, love. They need to watch out for him. I’m worried he might come for you again.”
“I don’t want to worry them.”
“Em. He kidnapped you at knifepoint today. You have no idea how fucking scared I was.�
�� He took a seat beside her and claimed both her hands. “By the time you come home, I’ll have lights and cameras fitted, and he’ll have no chance of getting in again. But I need a few days, to get it set up.”
“I know it looked bad, but I really don’t think he’d hurt me.”
“Looked bad? Understatement of the century. Promise me you’ll stay safe while you’re here?”
“I promise.”
He kissed her knuckles. “Thank you. I love you, Em. And I’ll miss you.”
Will you? The trouble with lying was she’d no idea how much truth he actually spoke. She couldn’t trust him at all. She wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed in his fragrance—that distinctive salty-wood smell of his skin. If she was asked yesterday, she’d say she was in love with him. But today? The world had changed, and she no longer recognised him.
“Let’s go talk to Geoff and Sandra. The sooner I get back, the sooner I can start making our house safe.”
Hands linked, they went into the kitchen, where Mum stirred a pot of something that smelled amazing on the stove, while Dad laid the table for dinner.
“Mark,” he said. “Good to see you. Can you stay for dinner? Sandra makes an incredible Bolognese.”
“I’m afraid not. But while I’m here, I need to bring you up to speed with something.”
They sat around the table, Mark holding Emma’s hand, and he explained about Caleb’s abducting Emma, and how he was still on the run.
“The story hasn’t made the news yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Caleb Rush is a dangerous man and will resort to desperate measures. If you see him, please call the police immediately.” He looked at Emma. “We all want to keep Em safe. I, for one, can’t bear the thought of losing her.”
Her parents were shocked, as Emma expected. Up to now, she’d have placed them firmly on Team-Caleb, but after his stunt today, she could see they were re-thinking that position.
“He’s been locked up for three years,” said her father. “Prison has a way of changing people.”
“I still believe he was innocent,” said Emma. “He didn’t bludgeon Bill Doyle. He’s not the person the prosecution claimed.”
Beside her, Mark sighed. “I knew him at Vic,” he told her parents, “and I saw a different side of him. The jury found him guilty. We have to have faith in our justice system.”
Emma wanted to slap him down. Lying to her was bad enough, but to her parents too? She saw the uncertainty on their faces.
It was Mark’s word against Caleb’s. And right now, they believed Mark.
He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to head back. No wandering about on your own,” he said. “It’s only for a few days.”
She watched him drive away.
Back in the kitchen, Emma sat down to dinner with her parents. She had to explain about Caleb. She chose her words with care. “When Caleb came to see me, he wanted my help. He trusted me. I think when Mark walked in, it spooked him. As soon as we were alone again, he apologised and we talked.”
Her father frowned. “Locking Mark in the boot of his own car? Holding a knife to your throat? That’s how he treats people he trusts?”
“He couldn’t risk Mark calling the police.”
“Darling,” said her mother, placing a hand on her arm, “I know you were close to Caleb and Joss, and losing Joss like that was horrible, but your dad’s right. Prison changes people. Caleb isn’t the same boy who rode the bus to school with you every day.”
“The same boy who saved my life when I fell in the river?”
Mum sighed. “We’ll always be grateful to him for that. But he was a child. He’s a man now. Look how different you are, now that you’ve grown up.”
“I’m still the same person inside. And so is Caleb.”
“Mark said he knew him at Vic,” said Dad. “He was probably closer to him for those years than you were. He might know him better.”
“That’s possible,” chimed in Mum. “You were studying in Dunedin and only came home for vacations. And then you were in London for two years. A lot could have happened in that time. Look at the other people you were friends with at school. Do you keep in touch with any of them?”
She didn’t, and her parents knew that.
Emma picked at the food, her appetite gone. “I’m not sure how well Mark knew him. If at all. Just because they were at the same university doesn’t mean they were friends. If Mark only saw him in passing, that doesn’t qualify him to cast judgement on my oldest friend.”
Her words jogged a memory. Was Mark really at the trial after all? One of Si’s suggestions was that Mark was taking part in a witness protection programme. Had he given evidence against Caleb? The thought made her go cold.
No, that couldn’t be right. If that was the case, Mark wouldn’t have stayed in Wellington. He’d have moved as far away as possible.
Emma kept thinking about Caleb. About how to help him. She had to get into his house, to search for the data stick, and that meant she needed a good excuse to go inside.
“What do you suppose will happen to their house, now that poor Joss is gone?” Emma’s mum asked.
“It’s still Caleb’s house,” Emma replied. “They shared ownership. I guess one day he might sell it.”
“It’s a shame to think of it all messed up inside, like you said. I’ll give the police a call and ask if I can go and tidy it up. Do you have a contact name?”
Perfect. A valid reason to go there. “I’ll contact DS Miller. I’d like to go with you, Mum. We can do it more quickly, with two of us.”
“Is it safe, though?” Dad looked worried. “Mark wanted you to stay here.”
Her mother huffed a laugh. “Don’t be daft, Geoff. That’s the last place Caleb is likely to go. I’ll bet the police have posted someone to watch the area. Emma is probably safer there, than anywhere else.”
“I’ll see if I can set it up for tomorrow,” said Emma. “And there’s no need to worry Mark, is there?”
“Lying by omission is still lying,” said her father.
“Okay. I’ll tell him afterwards.” Maybe. It all depended on what else Si dug up about Mark.
Emma called the detective after dinner. There was no point in hanging around, now she knew what she wanted to do.
He answered in the same way as before. “Miller.”
“Hi. This is Emma Blackthorne. I have a question for you.”
“Ask away.”
“Is Joss’s house still considered a crime scene? Or could I get access?”
Paper rustled down the line. “Why would you possibly want to go in there? You have the cat. Don’t tell me you need to find her favourite toys.”
“My mum suggested that we go and tidy up. You know—clear up the mess and make the front door secure. We figured Caleb would be unlikely to go there.”
“Hmm. I’ll find out and let you know.” He disconnected. It wasn’t long before he called back. “In view of the coroner’s verdict that Ms. Rush’s death was accidental, the investigation into the circumstances has been scaled back. We are now focusing our efforts on finding Caleb Rush.”
Emma closed her eyes in disbelief. It was official; they weren’t trying to find who killed Joss. “What about the house? May we get access to it?”
“You may. We have a uniformed officer on patrol, in case he goes there, but the property is no longer taped off. I’d appreciate your supplying me with a list of names of the people who will be visiting. Apart from that, you’re good to go.”
“It’ll be myself and my mother, Sandra Blackthorne. My father, Geoff Blackthorne, may go too, and we may need to call a locksmith. I can let you know once we’ve checked the house.”
“Yep. And if you hear anything about Caleb Rush’s whereabouts—even a whisper—call the police.”
She knew the detective was thorough. Was he suspicious about Joss’s death, or did he buy the verdict, stupid as it was? “Detective Miller…” She hesitated. “Do you really believe it was an a
ccident?”
“I deal in facts, Ms. Blackthorne. Evidence.”
It wasn’t a yes, but it also wasn’t a no. “In that case, if any new information came to light, you’d want to know about it?”
“What do you think? Good evening, Ms. Blackthorne.”
He disconnected.
Thursday 13 December
Chapter Thirteen
At first, Emma struggled to sleep, without Mark lying next to her. How quickly he’d become an integral part of her life… They’d been together a year, and sharing her house for most of that. They’d been dating—sleeping together—for a couple of months, when his landlord decided to renovate the house where Mark lived. It had been an obvious solution for her to invite Mark to stay at her place, and from there, to move in properly.
Emma didn’t have a good track record with relationships. The last guy she tried to live with turned into a slob, and the one before that whined constantly about her focus on her career. Mark, in comparison, was a breath of fresh air. He was as dedicated to his job as she was, and he loved to exercise with her. They jogged together on the beach most weekends, and played tennis on the local courts in the long summer evenings.
She missed him. Missed his calm, reassuring attitude. The hard question was, how much of him was fake? Just his name? Or was there more?
At some point, Minerva jumped on the bed and snuggled next to her. Emma reached out and stroked her, her heart warming at the resulting purr. At least Min was okay now. The steady vibration through Emma’s fingertips was reassuring. She finally fell asleep.
It was raining again in the morning, when Emma set off with her mum. A southerly wind blew today, bringing a chill to the weather. It was hard to believe it was summer, with Christmas only a couple of weeks away. Would Caleb have somewhere warm to shelter? And if she couldn’t find the programme he so desperately wanted, what would happen to him then? Would he be on the run for the next few years while he rewrote it, always looking over his shoulder for the police? It was no way to live.
