Marcus’s eyes narrowed.
“I can provide a forensic copy.”
“We are not negotiating.”
Harris reached toward Marcus’s jacket.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Checking for additional devices.”
“You need consent or a warrant.”
“I’m securing possible evidence.”
Marcus raised both hands.
“Do not touch me.”
Miller stepped between them.
“Officer, let’s slow down.”
Harris looked at him.
“You want to slow down while the subject’s equipment shows a connection to the store’s system?”
“My husband is not a subject,” I said.
“Right now, everyone connected to this incident is being evaluated.”
The words were professional, but the meaning was clear. The person who had been accused was no longer the only person under suspicion.
A sharp notification sounded from the register.
The screen refreshed.
The customer profile disappeared.
The transaction record disappeared with it.
The only remaining entry was a red banner:
PURCHASE VOIDED — SUSPECTED FRAUD.
My receipt suddenly felt useless in Marcus’s hand.
“What happened?” Miller demanded.
The technician stared at the screen.
“Someone voided the transaction.”
“Can you restore it?”
“Not from this terminal.”
Grant’s voice was quiet.
“Then perhaps the original purchase was never valid.”
I turned toward him.
“You just erased the transaction while officers were standing here.”
“I did not touch the system.”
“Who did?”
He glanced at the technician.
“Your security specialist has been operating the equipment.”
The technician recoiled.
“I didn’t do that.”
Miller looked at the screen, then at the register.
“Can you prove you didn’t?”
The young man’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Grant looked toward the crowd.
“This is exactly what happens when outsiders interfere with a private business. Systems are altered, employees are intimidated, and my store is being publicly accused.”
Elaine stared at him.
“You told me to void it.”
Grant’s head snapped toward her.
“I told you nothing.”
“You said if the police saw the purchase was still active, they would believe her.”
Miller turned to Elaine.
“Did you personally void the transaction?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
She pointed toward the back office.
“Derek.”
The name moved through the room like a match striking.
Marcus took one step forward.
“Derek Voss is here?”
Elaine nodded, crying now.
“He came through the employee entrance before the alarm started.”
Grant’s face went rigid.
“I don’t know any Derek Voss.”
“You just said he was a former employee of my husband’s,” I said.
“That does not mean he works here.”
“Then why did Elaine point toward the back office?”
Grant said nothing.
Harris grabbed his radio.
“Dispatch, we may have an additional individual inside the location. Name is Derek Voss. Check for any outstanding warrants and send another unit.”
Marcus looked at me.
“I need to see the back office.”
“No,” Harris said. “You stay here.”
“That man has access to my company’s stolen equipment.”
“And you have a personal interest in this case.”
“He may be destroying evidence.”
“So may you.”
The sentence struck Marcus harder than Grant’s accusation.
I stepped between them.
“My husband did not erase the transaction.”
Harris looked at me.
“Then he should have no problem waiting outside.”
He pointed toward the entrance.
“Both of you. Now.”
I looked at the register one last time. The red fraud banner had disappeared, replaced by a blank login screen. My purchase had been there. I had seen it. Miller had seen it. But now the store could claim the receipt was fake, the tablet was compromised, and Marcus had manipulated the evidence.
The leverage we had walked in with was gone.
Not weakened.
Gone.
Marcus touched the small of my back.
“Come on.”
We stepped outside.
The crowd parted just enough for us to pass. Phones followed us. The woman in the Yankees cap was gone, but the woman who had called me caught stood near the curb. She looked ashamed now, though she still held her phone.
“Please,” I said to no one in particular, “do not post a story about this before you know what happened.”
A man near the newspaper box lowered his camera.
Another person did not.
Officer Miller followed us to the sidewalk, carrying the tablet. Harris remained inside with Grant, Elaine, and the technician.
“Mr. Reed,” Miller said, “I need the address of your office and the name of whoever can access your company’s device registry.”
Marcus gave him both.
“Also, do not contact Derek Voss.”
“I have no intention of contacting him.”
“Do not access your company servers or attempt to trace the laptop.”
Marcus’s expression sharpened.
“If someone is using a stolen company device to frame me, I need to know where it is.”
“You need to let investigators handle that.”
“And if the device disappears?”
Miller did not answer immediately.
That pause told me he understood the problem.
The building network had already been compromised. The store’s transaction had been voided while officers stood beside the register. Whoever was doing this had access, timing, and a reason to make Marcus look responsible.
Marcus’s phone vibrated again.
This time, the message appeared from a number labeled REED SECURITY SOLUTIONS — ADMIN.
He opened it.
I saw a document attached.
It was a termination report dated six months earlier. At the top was Derek Voss’s name. Beneath it was Marcus’s digital signature.
The report stated that Derek had been removed for unauthorized access to client systems and that the missing field laptop had been remotely disabled.
At the bottom, in a separate section, was an administrative note.
DEVICE RS-14 REMAINS ACTIVE UNDER EXECUTIVE OVERRIDE.
Marcus stared at the screen.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means someone kept the device active after I ordered it disabled.”
“Who had authority to do that?”
He did not respond.
“Marcus.”
“Only two people had executive override access.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the store.
“Me.”
“And?”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“Derek.”
The patrol car lights flashed across his face. For the first time since he had arrived, he looked genuinely shaken.
Then a third message appeared.
YOUR WIFE WAS NOT THE TARGET.
SHE WAS THE DELIVERY SYSTEM.
I read it twice.
“What does that mean?”
Marcus locked the phone.
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don’t know.”
“Someone had my name, my address, my phone number, and your company’s device credentials before I walked into that store. They used me to create a false purchase, then used you to preserve the footage. What exactly did I deliver?”
Marcus looked at the pale-blue handbag on my shoulder.
The silver clasp caught the afternoon light.
“The bag,” he said.
I opened it immediately and emptied the contents onto the hood of the black SUV.
My phone. Lipstick. Keys. Wallet. Receipt. A small envelope of care instructions.
Nothing else.