To Catch a Rat

by S J Grey

  His breaths were rapid and shallow, and his skin was clammy. Emma had watched enough hospital drama series on TV to know this was serious. He must have disturbed whoever was going through her house. Her backup drives were gone, and she couldn’t check that picture, but right now that wasn’t important. Keeping Mark alive was what she had to do. Everything else would wait.

  Her arms were aching when she heard the sirens arrive, and she was exhausted when the paramedics hurried in, but she kept up the pressure on his wound until they took over. The police were here too. A pair of uniformed officers with questions she couldn’t answer. Then DS Miller arrived with one of his silent colleagues.

  “Ms. Blackthorne,” he said by way of greeting, but by this time, they were getting Mark ready to go to the hospital, and Emma needed to see him before he went.

  She darted outside to the ambulance and scrambled in the back.

  He had a drip in one hand and a blood transfusion running on the other side. His eyes were half open, and he gave a little smile when he saw her. “Sorry, Em. I tried to stop them. Stupid, huh?” His words were slurred, and panic—a step away—took hold.

  “Is he going to be okay? Please tell me.”

  “We’re doing everything we can,” said one of the paramedics, “but we need to move.”

  A few hours ago, she never wanted to see Mark again. Now she realised how much that would hurt. She bent over and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. “I love you. Hang on in there. Don’t you dare die on me.”

  He chuckled, but it was half-hearted. “I’ll be fine. Scout’s honour. Love you, baby.”

  Emma had to climb out again, to let them leave, but it was hard. She wanted to stay in the back with him, but they wouldn’t let her.

  The ambulance peeled out of her driveway, lights flashing and siren wailing, and Emma wrapped her arms around herself. Would that be the last time she’d ever see him? He lost so much blood. She took a step and stumbled, her knees inexplicably weak. The world went dark, and as though watching herself from outside her body, she recognised she was about to faceplant the ground.

  Someone grabbed her arm. It hurt. She cried out, and the pain cleared her head.

  It was DS Miller. “You need to sit down. Come with me.” With one arm around her shoulders, he propelled her forwards, one step and then another, to sit in the back of his car. Here again.

  She let her head fall back against the seat.

  “Deep breaths, now. Here’s some water.”

  A bottle was pressed to her lips, and she took a sip.

  “That’s better. Get your head back in the game, and then we’ll talk,” Miller said.

  “My arm hurts,” she whispered, then pushed up her sleeve and looked at it. Her wrist and lower arm were purply-blue with bruises. That was from when Mark disarmed her. Where did he learn to do that? He was waiting behind the bathroom door, for her—or whoever he thought it was—to go in there.

  DS Miller whistled softly. “That looks painful. It might be broken. We’ll get someone to look at that for you.” He turned away and spoke into his radio.

  Emma didn’t catch what he said.

  He turned back to her and crouched by her side. “There’s another ambulance on the way. Here in a couple of minutes. You feeling less like fainting now?”

  “Uh huh.” She took another sip of water. It was tepid, and she preferred cold. Maybe she should ask him for a cold drink? Why wasn’t he offering her cups of tea? That was what you did when someone was in shock, wasn’t it?

  Right on cue, her teeth began chattering, and her hands trembling. “He was bleeding,” she whispered. “Oh my God. So much blood.”

  “I need a blanket here,” shouted Miller. And the world went black again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When Emma opened her eyes, she found herself lying on the back seat of DS Miller’s car, a lightweight blanket draped over her and a young female police officer watching over her.

  What the fuck?

  “She’s awake,” the officer called.

  In a flash, Emma remembered. She pushed herself upright and fought a wave of dizziness. She’d fainted in the back of a police car. How embarrassing. “I need to go,” she said. It came out as a mumble.

  The officer placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “No. You need to stay here for a few minutes. DS Miller’s waiting to speak to you.”

  He was standing beside the car, and hunkered down in the open doorway. “Ms. Blackthorne, I must caution you before you say anything. When the paramedics have checked you over, I would like you to come back to the station for another interview.”

  “Caution me? I haven’t done anything.”

  “Your boyfriend has a stab wound. One of your kitchen knives is in a pool of blood on the bathroom floor.”

  Did he think Emma did it? She gaped, and then found her tongue. “I was trying to save him. You saw the state of my house? I took one of my knives in case whoever did that was still in there.” She shivered and tugged the blanket closer around herself. “I promise you, I didn’t do it. Mark will tell you the same.”

  Her hands were smeared in drying blood. Ugh. She tried to wipe them onto the blanket, but it didn’t work very well. “Can I wash my hands, please?”

  “Here’s the paramedic. He’ll check you over, and then we’ll take you to the station.”

  Did Miller really think Emma would stab Mark? She gazed at the medic, speechless, and complied when he asked her to show her hands and her bruises.

  He asked her questions. Was she on any medication? Did she have any pre-existing conditions? Any allergies? He checked her blood pressure, listened to her racing heart, and took her pulse. Then, while her wits scattered like chickens chasing corn, he examined her arm. There was gentle prodding and movement, and she winced.

  “I don’t think it’s broken,” said the medic. “I’ll strap it up for you, to give it some support.” He wound an elastic bandage from her wrist up to her elbow, cleaned her hands, and then stepped back. “She’s good to go,” he said to someone. Miller probably.

  “I need to go to the hospital,” said Emma. “My boyfriend was hurt. I need to see him.”

  “We need to take your statement first.” Miller looked pissed off. He turned to one of his colleagues. “Take her to the station.”

  By the time Emma was escorted into one of the interview rooms, her head was clearer, and she was angry. She was the victim here—or one of them, at least. Instead, they were treating her as a suspect. She needed a lawyer, and that meant access to a phone call, since she didn’t have her cellphone. It must still be on the bathroom floor.

  A uniformed officer brought her a cup of weak tea in a plastic cup, but apart from that she was alone. With no watch and no phone, she wasn’t sure how long it was before Miller turned up. It felt like hours, but was probably closer to thirty minutes. The dregs of the tea were cold.

  “Ms. Blackthorne, thank you for coming back in. This is DC Anderton.” He gestured to the guy at his side. “We’d like to take another statement.”

  As if she’d had any choice this time. She sat silently, while the detectives set up the video equipment and opened the interview. She’d done this a few times. She knew the drill.

  She made sure to speak first. “I want to make a phone call. I want my lawyer.”

  “We’re not charging you with anything,” said Miller. “This is a witness statement. I want to hear what happened this afternoon.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You believe me that I didn’t stab my boyfriend?”

  “We’ve had a brief statement from Mr. Penney. He confirmed that you arrived after he was attacked.”

  Relief nudged at her. “Is Mark okay?”

  Miller gave her a friendly, if brief, smile. “He’s going to be fine. Now let’s talk about the events of this afternoon. You’ve had a busy day.”

  He didn’t know the half of it.

  She talked him through the sequence of events, from Mark arriving at her
parents’, to her finding him on the bathroom floor. She had to backtrack a few times, to fill in additional details, but it didn’t take long. Or maybe she was used to the process now.

  Miller and his constable took handwritten notes. They glanced at each other, and then Miller spoke. “I’m afraid your house is a crime scene, while we gather evidence and forensics. Mr. Penney told us he saw three assailants, all wearing ski masks. Do you have any idea who they might be?”

  There were three men? Mark could’ve died. Emma blinked hard and tried to wrap her head around things.

  “I bet they’re the same people who wrecked Joss’s house. And murdered her.” Dear God. Mark was so lucky.

  “Do you have any idea what they were looking for?”

  “They took my backup drives. The drawer I stored them in was overturned, and I couldn’t see them. All of Joss’s computer gear was also missing.”

  “Do you know if they took your computer?”

  “It’s at my mum’s, so no, they didn’t get it.” Shit. What if they went to Mum and Dad’s next? “I need to talk to my parents. They need to be careful in case they get hit next.”

  “I’ve sent someone to update them.”

  “Thank you.” She sat back. Caleb. Anxiety blindsided her. What if the police turned up and saw him there?

  Miller flicked through a set of printed notes on the table with his thumb, but his gaze was fixed on Emma’s face. “Mr. Penney thinks that Caleb Rush was one of the assailants.”

  “What?”

  “Caleb Rush. He knows where you live. He’s abducted you at knifepoint once already. Do you have any thoughts about that?”

  What could she say? That while Mark was being stabbed, Caleb was with her parents at their home? Hardly. “I don’t think that’s likely. He didn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “He may have stabbed your boyfriend, a man he assaulted a day earlier.”

  “No. That’s not Caleb.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Miller leaned closer.

  Emma felt like an insect under a microscope. “He—Caleb—apologised to me for scaring me with the knife. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “I think the jury that convicted him would disagree with you.”

  “He was set up. He didn’t kill his stepfather.”

  “I ask again. How are you so sure that Caleb Rush wasn’t in your house this afternoon?”

  She couldn’t tell them. They’d catch him. They might already have, if they went to her parents. Emma stared at the cold tea and tried to think. What could she say?

  Nothing. She had to keep her mouth shut. “I just don’t think he’d do that.” It sounded lame and unconvincing, but it was the best she had.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Emma’s father sat waiting for her when she emerged from the interview room. He enfolded her in his arms and gave her a hug. ”My poor little girl. Do you want to go straight to the hospital, to see Mark?”

  “Yes, please. Mum’s car is near my house, and my car is in the garage, and I don’t even know if I can drive at the moment.”

  “Come on.” Dad led her outside, to his car, but didn’t say anything else until the doors were closed and they were moving. “Are you okay? Really?”

  “I have no idea. My house was tossed. My boyfriend was stabbed. And you need to be ultra-careful at home, in case they come to you next. What happened with Caleb? Is he still there?”

  “Yes. A policeman came to the house and told us what happened, but we saw the car pull in and told Caleb to hide in the garage. As soon as it was clear, he came out again, and he’s staying there with your mum.”

  “The police think Caleb was one of the people who attacked Mark. I couldn’t tell them the truth, so they’re probably adding that to his list of offences.” Emma sank her head into her hands. When was this nightmare going to be over?

  Her wrist ached like a bitch, but if the paramedic was correct, it was only sprained. Her car was an automatic, and it was her right hand that was out of action anyway. She should be able to drive later. She had to get to work in the morning, to meet with Brian.

  “Dad, if they let Mark go home today or even tomorrow, he can’t go back to my house yet. Not only is it a crime scene, but it’s also been trashed. It’s going to take ages to sort it out. He’ll have to come back to your place with me.” She looked at her father, calm and capable as usual. “And then what do we do with Caleb?”

  “A few hours ago, you were planning to break up with Mark. I guess you’ve changed your mind?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Emma picked at the stretchy bandage, smoothing the layers to lie flat. “Seeing him like that, bleeding so much… I want to trust him.”

  “Your mum and I have been talking about Caleb. We’ve got a few ideas.” He wouldn’t say anything more about them though. Not yet, anyway.

  They soon arrived at the hospital, found a parking space, and he headed up to the ward with Emma. “I’ll just say a quick hello, and then I’ll wait for you. Take as long as you need.”

  The nurse on the ward reception directed them to a private room, and Emma felt her phone vibrate. She was glad DS Miller had returned it to her and not kept it as evidence.

  It was Si calling. It was almost six in the evening. “Hi,” she said. “I can’t talk right now. Call you back later?”

  “Soon as you can. It’s urgent. Any chance you can come in to town this evening?”

  He must have found something else about Mark. “One moment.” She turned to her father. “I need to take this. I’ll be quick.”

  He pointed to a quiet side room, and Emma stepped in there.

  “Okay,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “Can you delay the meeting with Brian tomorrow?”

  “Well… yes, I guess. Why?”

  “I overheard him talking to someone. They’re suspending you, Emma.”

  After all the horrors of the day, she didn’t think anything else bad could happen. Got that one wrong. “Why? Is it a privacy breach?”

  “No. I covered my tracks there, anyway. It’s something to do with a conflict of interest and your relationship with Caleb Rush.”

  “What? I don’t have a relationship with him.”

  “Someone’s putting pressure on Brian, and it’s to do with Caleb, but I don’t have any more details yet.”

  “What do you mean, yet?”

  Si chuckled. “I’m digging, okay? I’ve got some searches running. Like I said, any chance you could come over? I’m still in the office.”

  She could ask Dad to take her straight from here. “Yes. In about an hour? Maybe less?”

  “That’s cool. See you, later.”

  It felt as though Emma was walking on quicksand. Every time she thought she found a firm footing, the earth would slip away again and leave her scrambling.

  Suspension. Her project would be suspended. Her job would be put on hold. Why? Si was digging, and she had to hope he found a giant pot of gold to explain this latest twist.

  Right at this moment, though, she was desperate to see Mark.

  His room was small but airy, with a large window overlooking the nearby houses. He leaned back against the pillows, his eyes closed. His face was horribly pale, and Emma remembered all the blood on the bathroom floor.

  She stepped to his side and his eyes cracked open.

  He smiled. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.” She sat in the chair at the side of the bed and reached out to take his hand. “How are you?”

  “Better for seeing you.” He looked up and smiled at her father. “Hi, Geoff.”

  “Evening. I’ll wait outside for you, Emma.”

  “That was tactful,” she said and squeezed Mark’s fingers. “I was so worried. What happened to you?”

  “It all happened so quickly. I got an alert that the sensor had tripped, but the livestream didn’t work, so I didn’t know if anyone was in there.” He frowned. “The door was open, and I heard a noise inside, so
I went in. I should have phoned the police, I know, but it’s your house, Em. Our home. I was furious that someone might break in, so I thought I’d check, and then call it in.” He huffed a sigh. “It’s all a bit blurry after that. Someone jumped me, and next thing, I was bleeding and they hit me over the head. I ended up on the bathroom floor.”

  “How badly are you hurt? Are you going to be okay?”

  “It’s just a few stitches. I was lucky. It didn’t get my femoral artery, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here now.”

  Emma shivered. No matter how mixed up her feelings towards him were, she couldn’t bear the thought of him dying.

  “I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” said Mark. “Please tell me I didn’t.”

  She pushed up her sleeve, to show the bandage. “The paramedic said it was only a sprain. You were like a ninja. Where did you learn to do that?”

  “I was acting on instinct. I guess I was scared they might be coming to finish me off.”

  “I wish my instincts were more like yours. I might have avoided the whole thing.” She meant it as a joke, but it didn’t sound funny when she said it.

  Pain flickered in his eyes, and he touched her wrist with his fingertips. “I’d no idea it was you. What the hell were you doing there, and with a freaking knife in your hand?”

  “I thought you were the burglar.”

  “So you were going head to head with an unknown assailant, with just a Sabatier?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah… no. Not such a good idea after all.” She thought about it some more. “So why did you go charging in there?”

  “Promise me you won’t do anything like that again.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I mean it, Em. Promise me.”

  “I promise. Okay?”

  “Okay.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I wanted to go home today, but they’re keeping me in overnight. Wait for me before you start doing the clean-up at home.”