Chapter 7 - ANONYMOUS ACCOUNTSMy heart hammered against my ribs. I sprinted toward my rental car, dialing Helen’s number while boarding the first available return flight standby.
“Helen! Do not open the door!” I barked into the phone over the noise of the airport terminal.
“I locked the deadbolts, Thomas, but they’re standing on the porch!” Helen whispered frantically from inside the cabin. “Mark is knocking, but Vanessa is talking to those two men. They look like private security or transport guards!”
“Put Mark on speaker if you can, or yell through the door!” I instructed, pacing near the gate. “Tell Mark I have his financial records! Tell him to look at his phone right now!”
While waiting for my flight in Seattle, I had sent Ray Carter’s preliminary cyber-audit report directly to Mark’s private email. Ray had spent the night tracing the IP address behind the $50,000 online gaming transfer.
On the other end of the line, I heard Helen shout through the heavy oak door: “Mark! Thomas sent you an email! Look at it before you do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life!”
Silence followed on the call. Seconds stretched into agonizing minutes.
Through the phone, I could faintly hear Mark’s voice outside the cabin: “Wait… Vanessa, hold on. What is this?”
“Mark, don't listen to them!” Vanessa’s sharp voice cut through. “They’re stalling! We have the court-approved emergency evaluation order. The transport team needs to take Lily now!”
“No, wait!” Mark’s tone suddenly shifted—no longer submissive, but sharp and bewildered. “This IP address… it’s not from Lily’s iPad. It’s from a secondary mobile hotspot router registered under your name, Vanessa!”
“What? That’s impossible—give me that phone!”
“It says the transfer was made at 2:00 AM three weeks ago!” Mark shouted, his voice cracking with realization. “Lily was asleep in her room! You were the only one awake!”
“Mark, you’re being paranoid! Your father-in-law is hacking things to frame me!” Vanessa hissed.
“Get off my porch,” Mark ordered, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and horror. “Get these men off my property. NOW!”
“Mark, you’re making a huge mistake—”
“I SAID LEAVE!”
I heard heavy footsteps retreating down the wooden steps, followed by the slam of car doors and the roar of engines speeding away.
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Helen came back on the line, breathing heavily. “They’re gone, Thomas. Mark is sitting on the front steps with his head in his hands. He’s crying.”
“Tell him to stay there,” I said, boarding my plane. “I’ll be home in three hours. And tell him we have a lot more to talk about than just fifty thousand dollars.”
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