Chapter 5 - THE WEB TIGHTENS
Friday morning,
Thomas was gone before I woke up.
He was eager to get to the title company,
to present his prize.
I spent the morning with Mark,
the forensic accountant.
We sat in a small diner,
the table covered in printouts of Thomas’s business accounts.
“He’s been over-invoicing his suppliers for years,”
Mark said,
pointing to a series of entries.
“He’s been taking kickbacks and funneling them into Evergreen Mechanical.”
“And the taxes?”
I asked.
“Non-existent,”
Mark replied.
“He’s been filing fraudulent returns,
claiming losses that don't exist.”
“Susan, if the IRS gets wind of this,
he’s going to prison for a long time.”
“Good,”
I said,
the word feeling like a stone in my mouth.
“What about Patricia Vance?”
“She’s not just a consultant,”
Mark said,
sliding a folder across the table.
“She’s a professional fixer for white-collar criminals.”
“She helps them disappear with their assets before the law catches up.”
“She’s done this three times in the last five years.”
“Different names,
different states,
same result.”
“The wives are left with nothing,
and the husbands are never heard from again.”
I looked at the photo Mark had found.
It was Patricia,
but with dark hair,
standing in front of a house in Florida.
She was a predator,
and Thomas was her latest partner.
“I need proof that she was in my house,”
I said.
“I need to link her to the fraud.”
“Check your security system,”
Mark suggested.
“He probably turned it off,
but the logs might show the overrides.”
I went home and spent the afternoon in the basement,
accessing the master hub of our security system.
Mark was right.
Thomas had disabled the cameras at 11:30 a.m. on Tuesday.
But the log showed a remote override from a mobile device.
I tracked the IP address.
It belonged to Patricia Vance’s office.
I had her.
I had the proof of unauthorized access and conspiracy.
I spent the rest of the day gathering my own assets.
I moved my 401k to a private account he couldn't touch.
I withdrew my half of our remaining cash.
I was building a fortress around myself,
brick by brick.
May you like
The clock was ticking.
Nine days until Belize.
