“Hello, Emerson.”


    I smile. “Hi, Mark.”


    “Can youe into my office for a minute?”


    “Sure.” I reply. I put my phone into my bottom drawer and make my way to his office. The detectives


    stand on my arrival and shake my hand. “Hello.” I smile nervously. Gosh, police make me nervous.


    “Please take a seat.”


    I fall into the seat.


    “There has been a development in the case.” The taller detective smiles.


    “Oh, really. Good.”


    “Well, it’s not good,” Mark interrupts as he watches something on the detective’sptop. “There was


    another robberyst night.”


    My face falls. “Oh… Oh no.” I stammer.


    “But the good news is we have security footage.” The detective nods as he gestures to hisputer.


    My eyes widen. “Oh good.”


    Mark continues to watch the footage as he sits back and swings on his chair deep in thought.


    “Anyone familiar?” The detective asks him.


    Mark  shakes  his  head.  “No,  unfortunately  not.  Have  a  look,  Emerson,  and  see  if  you  see  anything


    familiar.”


    I sit forward and concentrate. He turns theputer to face me and hits y.


    It’s dark and I see a man with a torch enter arge room. He’s in all ck and wearing a bva


    and is shining the torch up onto the walls looking for something.


    “Luckily  for  us  there  was  a  hidden  camera  up  above  the  painting  that  was  stolen.”  The  detective


    points to the screen as I watch.


    I frown. The person’s silhouette is familiar. The way they walk. I sit forward in concentration. Shit.


    Do I actually know this person? I sit still with my eyes transfixed on the screen as the offenderes


    over  to  the  painting  under  the  camera  and  looks  up  at  it.  The  eyes  are  shadowed  and  you  can’t  see


    anything. He then puts the small torch in his mouth and reaches up to take the painting from the wall and


    my heart stops.


    On the ck leather glove there is orange paint spilled on the pinky finger.


    That is the same glove that I saw star takest night.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    Oh dear god, my heart stops.


    That’s star.


    My heart starts to hammer and I sit back in my seat guiltily.


    “What do you think?” Mark asks.


    “Huh?” My eyes sh to him and I frown.


    “Any idea who that is?”


    I look to the detectives and then to Mark in shock. I know exactly who it is. I swallow the lump in my


    throat as my heart starts to try and escape from my chest. No. It can’t be him. I rub my hand over my face.


    “No. No idea,” I lie.


    Mark  hits  y  again  and  I  sit  and  re  watch  it.  The  thief  enters  the  room  and  now  that  I  know  it’s


    star, I can see it as clear as day. The way he walks, his physique. Holy fuck. I have got to get out of


    here. There must be a mistake.


    What’s going on?


    I shake my head in a confused fog. “No… I… No. I don’t know who it is,” I stammer as the clip


    finishes. I need to talk to him. This must be a mistake he wouldn’t do this. He isn’t a criminal… is he?


    Dear God.


    I smile politely. “I have a lot of work to do.” I stand. “Do you need me for anything else, Mark?” I


    ask.


    The detectives shake their heads. “No, that’s fine. Keep us posted if you think of anything.” He smiles.


    I fake a smile back at him. “Thank you.” I stand and leave the office and practically run to my desk. I


    open the bottom draw in a rush and take out my handbag.


    “Where are you going?” Deirdre asks.


    Huh. “Oh.” I try to control my panicked breathing as I look around for an excuse to leave. “Oh, um. I


    just threw up in the bathroom. I was really unwellst night.”


    “Oh.” Deirdre screws up her face. “I hope it’s not contagious. I go on holiday on Saturday.”


    Huh, funnily enough, I do, too. To a castle to marry a criminal I don’t even know.


    I screw up my face. “Me, too,” I whisper as I look around in a panic for my boss.


    “Don’t worry, just go. I will tell him you have gone home sick.”


    I nod my head nervously. “Yes, yes. You tell him. Thank you.” I start to throw my things in my drawer


    in double quick time.


    “Stay home tomorrow, too. I don’t want to get it,” she replies tly.


    “Sure thing,” I breathe as I stand with my bag over my shoulder. Can anyone tell how panicked I am?


    Fuck. I leave the office and run to the curb, holding my hand in the air. “Taxi!” I call.


    Seemingly one secondter I am pulled from my disturbing thoughts by the caring to a halt.


    “Here we are.” The cab driver smiles from his position in the front seat.


    I scramble through my handbag for my purse to pay him and tentatively get out of the car. He drives off


    and I stand and look at the opulent house in front of me. He didn’t do this.


    He’s honest.


    He loves me.


    He wouldn’t do this.