To Catch a Rat

by S J Grey

He looked genuinely baffled. “What are you saying? That I fitted the cameras in the first place, watched you go into the house, and came rushing over to stop you?” He chuckled. “Come on. Isn’t that a tad far-fetched? I’m an accountant, love, not a spy.”

  He was shooting down all her arguments, and worse, making her feel stupid in the process. “You didn’t exist two years ago,” she blurted out.

  The smile froze on his face. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. Mark John Penney’s entire existence was created less than two years ago.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  She shrugged, her gaze fixed on his face.

  “Why on earth do you think that? I told you, I was at Vic with Caleb. Let me show you proof.” He slid his phone from his inside pocket and swiped the screen. “Here’s a picture from Round the “You got me thinking when you told me Joss thought someone was spying on her”—Mum picked up her phone and swiped the screen—“so I downloaded an app. It’s supposed to identify hidden surveillance systems. We could give it a try?”

  Wait… What? “You can download an app to do that? Mum, you are full of surprises.”

  “I may be over fifty, but I know how to use Google and the App Store.” She beckoned Emma closer. “Look. This one is called SpyCamDetector. It scans for infra-red and electromagnetic radiation. All I have to do is walk around the room, and if there is a hidden device and I get close enough, the screen on my phone will glow red. It’s that easy.”

  “Let’s do that. We can take turns, scanning the room.”

  First there was loud music, to block their voices, and now scanning for hidden devices. It had an element of crazy to it. “Who are you,” Emma said, “and what have you done with my mum?”

  “Very funny.” Mum walked slowly the length of the room, sweeping her phone up and down the wall. When she stood underneath the smoke alarm, she paused. “Oh my. It’s gone red.”

  Emma scrambled to her feet. “You found something?”

  “Yes. I think so. Look.” Mum held out the phone. A circle in the middle of the display pulsed bright red. Mum swung the phone to the side, and the flashing stopped.

  There had to be a mistake. “Maybe it’s the way the smoke alarm works? Like a false positive?”

  “Or maybe not. Bring me that stool, darling. I need something to stand on.”

  Emma dragged the heavy, wooden stool to where Mum stood, and watched as her mother climbed on and reached up to the ceiling. She fiddled with the cover of the alarm. “I need a screwdriver. Have a look in my bag and pass me the Swiss Army knife, please.”

  After all the trouble Emma went to with the scissors… She should have just asked. She passed the knife to her mother and waited while she unscrewed the cover. Emma didn’t know whether she felt spooked or nervous or amused at this side of her mother she’d never seen before.

  “Voilà.” Mum whipped away the cover and peered at the innards of the smoke alarm.

  Emma stared up at it. She’d never looked inside a smoke alarm before, but her gut instinct told her the black plastic box with the winking red light didn’t belong.

  Mum swept the phone over the device, and the screen pulsed again.

  Holy Shit. If that was really a camera, it had watched her removing the data stick from its hidden safe. It saw her and Mum taking the alarm apart. What should Emma do? Destroy it?

  And how many other cameras were in the house?

  , when we all ran in onesies.” He turned the phone, to show her an image. A dozen young men dressed in colourful one-piece pyjamas sprawled under a tree, faces pink and sweaty from the charity run. They held up race medals and bottles of water. Emma peered closer, and Mark zoomed in to show his face. He sat two people away from Caleb.

  Emma had seen that picture before, years ago, when Joss sent her a copy. That was the proof Emma sought. If she found the original image, and Mark really was there, it meant Caleb was mistaken and Si’s analytics were faulty. It would mean Mark was telling the truth. She wanted to believe that. It was a much better option than a reality in which he’d tricked his way into her life, to get access to Caleb’s programme.

  If, however, the picture had been tampered with to superimpose Mark’s image, she’d have her answer.

  Si said Mark’s history had been faked. If that was true, it was cleverly done, which meant someone with a lot of influence and skill had done it. It wasn’t a rough hack job.

  Emma had to be careful.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Emma tossed up the options in her head. Pretend all was well with Mark and go home with him, or stay here. She needed to decide quickly. He watched her like he was a hawk and she was a tasty little mouse.

  “You’re right,” she said. “The idea that someone was really spying on Joss… It’s likely that she was murdered after all. I’m being paranoid and jumping at shadows. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He stood and gently tugged on her hands till she stood with him. He closed his arms around her. “You’re being careful, and that’s good. I’m with you on the accidental-death verdict. That’s bullshit, but it means a killer might be out there, and I want to make sure you’re safe.”

  Against the odds, Mark might be telling the truth. Could she give him the benefit of the doubt until she got her hands on that photo? Joss emailed it to her not long after the race, and Emma would have copied it into the folder where she stored all her images. The email itself no longer existed. She’d had a few laptops since then, so the picture would be sitting on one of her backup drives. They were in a drawer in her desk at home.

  “I want to spend another night here, getting Minerva settled in, but she should be fine after that,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “I have to go into the office tomorrow. Brian’s called an urgent meeting, so I could do with picking up my car. There’s a few things I need from home too. Why don’t I come back with you now, and then drive back here?”

  “It’s not my first choice, but I can live with it. You ready to go?”

  Emma needed to see Caleb before she left. She had to give him the copy she made of the stick, and she couldn’t do that with Mark at her side. “Give me a few minutes? I was just in the middle of a work email I need to send. Then I want to tell Mum what I’m doing.”

  “No worries. I’ve got some calls to make, so I’ll wait in the car.”

  That was perfect. “That works. Thank you.” She held his hand as they walked out to his car, and then hurried back into the house. She only had a few minutes.

  She darted into the bedroom first and grabbed the backup data stick for Caleb. Mum said he’d be in the stock room. That was at the back of the house, and was where they stored all their standard products, as well as packing up outgoing deliveries.

  Emma knocked on the door. “Mum, you in there?”

  “Yes, darling. Come in.”

  She walked in, expecting to find her mother alone, but another woman was in there with her, sitting at the packing table, brown paper, string, and sticky tape in front of her.

  Mum gave Emma a wicked grin. “Did you forget my friend Louise was visiting today?”

  Emma looked closer. It was Caleb, freshly shaved, and wearing a grey-blonde wig and oversized spectacles. A slick of pink lipstick, a shapeless dress, and a loose cardigan completed the makeover. “Oh my God. That’s amazing.”

  Caleb gave her a steady gaze. “It’s genius. Is your boyfriend still here?”

  Focus, Emma. “Yes. He’s making some calls outside, but he’ll not be long.” She laid the stick in front of him on the table. “This is a copy of the data Joss left. It’s not what you hoped for. I’m sorry. I gave the original one to the police, because it’s a record of the harassment Joss had to put up with.”

  “Shit.” He pulled a face. “Sorry, Mrs. Blackthorne.” He palmed the data stick. “Looks like I need to figure out where else she might have stashed it. I could do with getting back into the house, to look. How difficult is that
going to be?”

  “Impossible at the moment. It’s crawling with police and taped off as a crime scene. They also have a copper patrolling, in case you turn up.”

  “You can stay here for the moment, if you want to,” said Mum.

  “Listen,” said Emma. “I’m going home with Mark for something, but I’m driving back later. If you’re okay to stay here, at least for tonight, it’d be good to catch up. There’s stuff I need to tell you.” It was marvellous, how Mum disguised him so quickly. Emma reached out and touched Caleb’s wig. She glanced at her mother. “This is your Am-Dram stuff, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Did you say you’re staying here tonight?”

  Emma nodded. “It’s complicated, but I’ll update you later.”

  “Em.” The door opened, and Mark burst in. “The security sensors have tripped. I need to go. Right now.”

  She froze. Caleb was sitting next to her. Would Mark recognise him? If he looked closely, he might. She didn’t dare look at Caleb or her mum. Her deer-in-the-headlight gaze was fixed on Mark. He’d be suspicious. “What?” It came out as a squeak.

  “The sensors have tripped,” he repeated. “I have to go. I’ll text you when I get there.” He turned on his heel, and Emma noted the sound of his footsteps hurrying down the corridor. Seconds later, a car engine roared outside.

  He was gone.

  “Holy shit,” Emma whispered. She needed to sit down.

  “What did he mean,” asked Mum, “about the sensor tripping?”

  Emma gathered her scrambled thoughts. “Oh God, he means our house. He’s just fitted a security system, and it must have gone off.”

  “It could be a false alarm—no pun intended,” said Mum. “One of our sensors going off. The one near the kitchen door. We disabled it eventually. We figured it must be possums or something. We can’t have sensors inside the house, because of the cats, so we had them installed for all the outside doors instead.”

  The idea of Emma’s house being broken into was going to freak her out. “I need to go and see what’s happened.”

  “Are you coming back?” Caleb asked. “I don’t want to put your mum and dad at risk by hiding me.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said her mother. “We have plenty of room, and a good disguise for you if anyone comes over. Geoff will throw a tarp over your bike, and nobody will be any the wiser.”

  Caleb twisted his mouth and seemed about to refuse, when Mum put her hand on his arm. “Please stay,” she said. “We were very fond of Joss and would like the chance to share our memories of her. I think it would be good for you, too.”

  “Okay,” he said, his voice gruff. “Thank you.”

  Tears pricked at Emma’s eyes. How lucky she was that her parents were so all-around wonderful. Caleb and Joss had never known what that was like.

  “I plan to come back,” she said, “but if it all turns to custard and you have to leave, I’d better bring you up to speed now.” Where to begin? “Mark insists he knew you at Vic, and he’s shown me a photo of you both, in a group picture. Joss sent me the original, years ago. When I dig it out, I’ll be able to check if he’s telling the truth. I’m struggling to believe him, and there are lots of small things niggling at me. That phone in the glovebox and the way his identity records look fake. That might be a mistake, but I don’t know yet.”

  “Whoa. What do you mean about his ID?” Caleb asked.

  “It’s a long story, but some checking one of my guys did at work makes it look as though Mark’s identity was only created two years ago. When you look at the data stick, you’ll see there are pictures of him with Joss, only he has a different name in her notes. He says those photos have been faked to set him up, and that’s possible. I just don’t know what to believe right now.” She paused. “We found cameras in your house. I think someone was spying on Joss.”

  “What the fuck?” Caleb looked gobsmacked.

  She didn’t have time for this. “Mum will explain. I have to go. And can I please borrow a car?”

  Her mother nodded. “Take mine. You know where the keys are. I’ll bring Caleb up to speed.”

  “Thank you,” said Emma. She gave Caleb a quick hug. “I hope you’re still here when I get back.”

  “Be careful, Em.” He squeezed her back.

  On that note, she grabbed her shoulder bag and set off. It might be a false alarm, but if it wasn’t, someone was in her house that wasn’t supposed to be.

  Mum’s car didn’t have a Bluetooth setup for Emma’s phone, so she jammed it into the cup holder, where she could keep an eye on it if Mark called. He had a ten-minute start on her, so he should be almost home by now. There was no text from him, and no missed calls.

  Emma was delayed at every set of lights, and by the time she was a mile from home, and Mark still hadn’t contacted her, she was ready to chew on her fingernails, and she hadn’t done that for years.

  Should she call him? What if he was trying to be stealthy? “Come on, Mark,” she said aloud. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Her house was on a quiet side road, and Mark’s car was parked in the street, a few houses away. They’d both normally park in the driveway. Her instinct was right. He was trying to sneak up, unnoticed.

  She set her phone to vibrate instead of ringing, and left the car, careful to lock it behind her. With her phone in hand, she ran up and peeked around the gatepost. The drive was empty, but the front door was open and moving gently, as it caught the breeze. Where was Mark? Probably checking that everything inside was okay.

  She walked up to the doorstep, taking care to be as silent as possible. She paused next to the door and listened hard. Nothing. And then a low groan.

  Fear skittered through her veins, and she froze. Something was very wrong. And why was there no word from Mark? He said he’d text, and he was here somewhere.

  What if he was hurt?

  Emma nudged the door open with her toe and tiptoed inside. No. Dishes lay on the floor in pieces. Shards of broken crystal littered the counter underneath the glass cabinet. Every drawer was upended, the contents tipped out. It looked as though a tornado had ripped through her kitchen.

  She couldn’t make a sound. There might be someone else inside. She needed to remain on her guard. And she needed to find Mark.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It wasn’t just the kitchen; the lounge was trashed too. Emma’s fear multiplied, adrenaline spiking through her system. Her palms were damp, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She needed to call the police, but couldn’t risk making a call in case they were still here and heard her voice. And where was Mark? Did she imagine the groan? Please let him be okay.

  She tiptoed down the corridor. The alcove she used for her desk had been pulled apart, the desk drawers torn out, the chair overturned, and the uplighter lying forlornly on its side, the plug pulled from the socket.

  Her laptop was safe at Mum’s, but she knew without needing to look that her backup drives were gone.

  There wasn’t time to think about that now. She peeked around the bedroom door, her heart sinking with each second that passed. Her mattress, dragged from the base and slashed through. Wardrobe doors, open. Clothes, strewn across the carpet or in a tangled pile of coat hangers. Her work suits, in a heap. Even her shoe boxes, opened and the contents dumped.

  Thank God Minerva hadn’t been here.

  There was only the bathroom and the garage left, and Emma was more scared than ever. Her pulse boomed in her ears. She had no weapon. Nothing but her phone. Hang on—she had carving knives in the kitchen. They were better than nothing.

  She retraced her steps and checked the kitchen counter. The knife block was still there, with her set of Sabatier knives intact. She grabbed the largest one. It might be a dumb move, but it was self-protection. She felt better with it in her hand.

  The bathroom door was ajar. Emma hesitated. Should she toe it open and peek through the gap, or kick it and surprise whoever was in there? A slight creaking noise from the oth
er side meant she had to decide quickly. She wanted the element of surprise.

  She shoulder-barged the door, knife in her right hand, phone in her left. For a fleeting moment, she felt like an action hero.

  Somebody barrelled into her. The air whooshed out of her lungs. Her right wrist was grabbed and twisted, and the knife clattered to the tiled floor. She gasped. A hand clamped tight over her mouth from behind, and she was shoved to the floor on her knees. Hard. The shock wave jolted through her.

  Blood. There was blood on the floor. On the bath mat. Smeared on the side of the shower cubicle. A towel lay over the side of the basin, dark-red patches blooming in the centre.

  “Em. Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?” The hands holding her abruptly let go.

  It was Mark. He turned her to face him. “Em, I’m so sorry. I’d no idea. Christ. I must’ve hurt you.”

  He had blood on his face. On his hands. He was pale, beads of sweat visible on his forehead, and his hands shook. He seemed to crumple at the knees and dropped, to land on his ass beside her.

  Dark red mottled the thigh of his jeans, and she knew instantly. “You’re bleeding,” she said. Great job, stating the obvious. “You need an ambulance. And the police. What happened?”

  “Pass me that towel, please.”

  Just like Mark. Quite possibly bleeding to death, but still with perfect manners. She grabbed the towel and pressed it to his thigh. “What happened?” She repeated the question, but he didn’t answer.

  His eyelids flickered, and he swayed. Was he going to pass out? How much blood did he lose?

  “Hold it against the wound,” he muttered, his voice like gravel. “Press as hard as you can.”

  Her heart was galloping so fast, it felt as though it would explode under the pressure, but she had to stay calm. Stay focused. “Okay,” she whispered. She pushed it against his leg, as hard as she could. “Like this?”

  “Yeah.” His head dropped, and then jerked up again. “You have your phone?”

  That was what she was supposed to be doing. She swiped at the screen and managed to dial 111. “Ambulance and police. Hurry please.” She stammered through the address, her name, Mark’s name, and the scene she found, and all the while she kept her other hand glued to his thigh.