Chapter 9 - The Confession from the Office
The name Amanda hung in the sterile air of the home office like a live wire.
Mark exchanged a sharp, assessing glance with Rachel before leaning closer to the speakerphone. “Miss Vance—or Miss... whatever your last name is—slow down. Why are you calling us? If Derek finds out you leaked company activity to opposing counsel, you’ll be fired before morning.”
“I’m already quitting,” the voice on the other end cracked, muffled by the sound of shuffling papers and distant office doors slamming in the background. “I’ve covered for him for two years, lying to clients, shredding financial compliance reports, covering up his offshore wire transfers... but when he came into the office twenty minutes ago raving like a maniac about destroying his wife and newborn child over fifteen dollars, I drew the line.”
My breath hitched. I stood up from the armchair, walking slowly over to the edge of the desk.
“Amanda,” I said into the phone, my voice trembling slightly. “It’s Clara. Are you telling me he has a private investigator tracking my cell phone?”
“Yes!” Amanda cried out softly. “He installed a spyware profile on your shared iCloud account months ago under the guise of ‘family safety tracking.’ He knows roughly which zip code you’re in right now because your phone pinged a cell tower near Pittsburgh earlier this afternoon before you powered it off.”
Mark’s eyes flared with sudden urgency. He grabbed his cell phone from the desk and began dialing a rapid sequence of numbers.
“Clara, did you use your old Apple ID to log into any device here?” Mark asked tersely, covering the receiver with his hand.
“Only to download a baby-monitor app on my old iPad,” I gasped, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. “I forgot to log out of the main family share account!”
“He’s pinging your location through the tablet,” Mark said grimly, speaking rapidly into his phone to connect with his private security contact in the city. “Amanda, listen to me very carefully,” Mark said back into the landline. “Where is Derek right now?”
“He left the office ten minutes ago,” Amanda replied, her voice breaking. “He said he was driving out to Pennsylvania himself to ‘retrieve what belongs to him’ before the courts open tomorrow morning. He’s driving a dark gray company SUV—license plate Ohio JV-8849.”
“Thank you, Amanda,” Mark said firmly. “Go home, lock your doors, and call the local police to report workplace harassment. We’ll take care of the rest.”
He slammed the phone down onto the cradle just as his cell call connected.
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“Dave? It’s Mark Evans. I need an immediate perimeter security detail stationed outside my home in Shadyside. We have an unhinged subject driving across state lines right now with a tracker on a family device.”
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