Chapter 5 - THE MAN IN MY OFFICE
I had spent eighteen years learning not to make important decisions while angry.
That training became the only reason I did not drive straight to my father’s house and put his laptop through a wall.
Instead, I went back to base.
I showered.
I changed into a clean uniform.
I sat alone in my office and read the two emails until the words stopped looking like language.
I’ll handle Claire.
If Erica tries anything, I don’t need my stepsister asking questions.
Dad had not known everything.
He had known enough.
He had known Jason wanted me absent for a reason beyond bruised feelings.
He had agreed anyway.
At 1:15 p.m., Alvarez knocked once and stepped inside.
“You need sleep.”
“I need a new family.”
“Those are harder to requisition.”
I looked at her.
She placed a paper bag on my desk.
“Sandwich.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That was not a question.”
I took the sandwich.
She sat across from me.
“Do you want to talk?”
“No.”
“Excellent.”
She opened her own lunch.
“We can sit here aggressively not talking.”
For ten minutes, that was exactly what we did.
Then the secure phone on my desk rang.
The caller was installation security.
“Major Donovan, we have a civilian in custody who attempted to enter your office area using a temporary contractor badge.”
I stopped chewing.
“Name?”
“He identified himself as Mason Trent.”
I was already standing.
Alvarez saw my face and stood too.
“What?”
“Mason.”
Her expression changed instantly.
The security office was three buildings away.
By the time we arrived, Mason Trent was seated in an interview room with two security officers outside.
I saw him through the glass.
Erica’s description had been accurate.
Late forties.
Broad shoulders.
Gray at the temples.
Dark coat folded neatly on the chair beside him.
He looked less like a criminal than an insurance executive waiting for a delayed flight.
Installation security chief Major Ben Russo met me in the hallway.
“Do you know him?”
“No.”
“He says he was hired by Ridgeway Logistics to recover company property.”
“From my office?”
“That is the interesting part.”
Russo held up a clear property bag.
Inside were latex gloves, two phones, a small flashlight, and a folded photograph.
The photograph showed Erica leaving what looked like an apartment building.
On the back, someone had written my name.
Under it was my office building number.
I stared at the handwriting.
“Did he enter my office?”
“No.”
“He made it through one checkpoint before the badge flagged.”
“Where did the badge come from?”
“Legitimate contractor company.”
“Was he employed by them?”
“Not currently.”
“So he used an old credential.”
“Yes.”
I looked through the glass again.
Mason sat perfectly still.
“Has he asked for a lawyer?”
“Not yet.”
“Then I want Detective Park notified immediately.”
“Already done.”
I turned to Russo.
“How did he know which building was mine?”
“That is what we are trying to determine.”
My phone vibrated.
A text from Dad.
PLEASE COME HOME.
I deleted nothing.
I simply locked the screen.
Detective Park arrived thirty minutes later with two state investigators.
Mason finally requested counsel after they told him why they wanted to ask about Erica.
That ended the voluntary interview.
It did not end the questions created by what he carried.
One of his phones was registered to a private investigative firm in Denver.
The other was prepaid.
The photograph of Erica had been printed two days earlier.
The back of the photo contained my office location and a second note.
POSSIBLE TRANSFER OF DEVICE.
I read those words twice.
“They thought Erica gave me the drive.”
Park nodded.
“That would explain why he came here.”
“Who told him?”
“We do not know.”
“Jason?”
“We do not know.”
“Grant?”
“We do not know.”
I hated how reasonable her answers were.
I hated even more that she was right to give them.
At 3:40 p.m., Park received the first result from Erica’s damaged phone.
The device-management profile Ridgeway had installed during Erica’s employment was still active.
It should have been removed when she was terminated.
It had not been.
The profile had transmitted location data intermittently for weeks.
Someone with administrative access had queried the location manually three times on Christmas Eve.
The first query was at 11:06 a.m.
The second was at 4:12 p.m.
The third was at 7:51 p.m.
Eight minutes after Erica had told my father by email that she planned to arrive at his house at eight.
“Can you identify who queried it?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
“Can Ridgeway?”
“Almost certainly.”
“Will they cooperate?”
Park gave me a look.
“That remains to be seen.”
At 4:05 p.m., Ridgeway’s attorneys contacted investigators.
They claimed Erica’s phone contained proprietary software and demanded that all company data be preserved.
At 4:17 p.m., a public relations firm released a statement.
Ridgeway Logistics Group expressed gratitude to emergency responders and concern for all crash victims.
Then the statement added one sentence that made my hands go cold.
The company also warned against misinformation being circulated by a former employee currently involved in ongoing civil litigation with Ridgeway.
They had not named Erica.
They did not need to.
By 4:30 p.m., reporters had connected the statement to her.
By 5:00 p.m., an old lawsuit filing accusing Erica of theft was circulating online.
By 5:15 p.m., strangers were calling her a criminal under news clips of the rescue.
Jason called me again at 5:22.
This time I answered.
“What?”
His voice came fast.
“Finally.”
“You have thirty seconds.”
“Claire, listen to me.”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Erica is manipulating you.”
“Twenty-five.”
“She stole company information.”
“Twenty-two.”
“She has been threatening me for months.”
“Nineteen.”
“Will you stop counting?”
“Why did you call county dispatch before the news showed her?”
Silence.
“Jason?”
“I knew she was traveling.”
“How?”
“She told people.”
“Which people?”
“I don’t know.”
“That answer was fast.”
“Claire, this is bigger than you think.”
“I agree.”
“Then stay out of it.”
I laughed once.
“You had a man walk onto my Army installation looking for stolen data you thought I had.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Mason Trent.”
The silence on the line changed.
It became fear.
Not surprise.
Fear.
“You know him,” I said.
“I know who he is.”
“That was not my question.”
“He does security work.”
“For Ridgeway?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you send him?”
“No.”
“Did Grant?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you track Erica’s phone?”
“Claire—”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you print her itinerary at Dad’s house?”
Another silence.
Then he made the mistake liars make when they are running out of room.
He attacked.
“You think one night on television makes you some kind of investigator?”
I felt nothing.
No anger.
No shock.
Just clarity.
“No.”
I kept my voice calm.
“I think eighteen years in uniform taught me what panic sounds like.”
“Go to hell.”
“Why was Erica on your mind before the crash?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
“She was going to destroy everything I have built.”
There it was.
Not She is lying.
Not She stole from us.
Not She is dangerous.
She was going to destroy everything I have built.
I leaned against my desk.
“By showing people records?”
“They are not what she says.”
“Then you should be eager for investigators to see them.”
“You have no idea how corporations work.”
“And you have no idea how bad that sentence sounds.”
His breathing turned harsh.
“Dad is devastated.”
“Do not use him as a shield.”
“You are tearing this family apart.”
“No.”
I looked through my office window at snow covering the parade field.
“I was excluded from the family before I knew there was anything to tear apart.”
Jason said nothing.
I ended the call.
Thirty seconds later, a new message appeared.
Not from Jason.
From Erica.
It contained only four words.
HE KNOWS WHERE I AM.
I called immediately.
No answer.
I called again.
No answer.
Then Detective Park’s number appeared on my screen.
I answered before the first ring finished.
“Park.”
Her voice was sharp.
“Major, do not go to the hospital.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“Someone just tried to enter Erica’s room using credentials from a law firm.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Is she safe?”
“For the moment.”
I grabbed my coat.
Park continued.
“But whoever it was left something outside her door.”
“What?”
“A sealed envelope.”
“What was in it?”
May you like
There was a pause.
“Copies of photographs of your father’s house.”
