Chapter 5 - The Eviction and the Audit
While Belinda was sitting in a holding cell waiting for a bail hearing that she now had no money to pay, Derek was standing in the living room of the Crestview Drive home, holding two empty cardboard boxes.
The locks on the front door had already been changed that morning by an industrial locksmith I hired. The only reason Derek was inside was because two court-appointed sheriff deputies were standing in the foyer, watching his every move with stopwatches in their hands.
“You have fifteen minutes remaining, Mr. Campbell,” Deputy Miller said, looking at his watch. “Essential personal clothing and toiletries only. Furniture, electronics, and artwork stay per the court’s status-quo order.”
“This TV is mine!” Derek yelled, pointing at the 75-inch OLED television on the wall. “I bought it!”
“You bought it using Joanne’s Nordstrom Visa card, Derek,” I said, stepping through the front door accompanied by Evelyn Vance.
Derek whipped around, his eyes wild, his clothes rumpled from sleeping in his car.
“Joanne! Look at what you’re doing to us!” he shouted, tears of rage welling in his eyes. “My mother is in jail! You had her arrested at Hazel’s school! She’s an old woman!”
“She violated a judge’s protective order,” I said, crossing my arms. “And she tried to abduct my daughter in front of fifty witnesses. She belongs in a cell.”
“You’re heartless!” Derek sobbed. “I gave you eleven years of my life! I helped you build your career!”
“You worked thirty hours a week as a maintenance tech, Derek,” I replied coolly. “You earned $38,000 a year. You spent $25,000 of it on golf gear, beer, fantasy football leagues, and cash transfers to your mother. I paid for this house, the food in your stomach, the clothes on your back, and the very air you breathed in this building.”
Evelyn Vance stepped forward, opening a legal document.
“Mr. Campbell, as part of the initial discovery process in the divorce proceedings, Ms. Larson’s forensic team conducted an audit of your corporate maintenance accounts at your employer, Pacific Facilities Management.”
Derek went completely still. The color drained from his face so fast he had to grab the back of the sofa.
“W-what does my job have to do with this?” he whispered.
“As Chief Financial Officer of an international logistics firm, Joanne happens to manage the primary shipping vendor contract for your employer,” Evelyn said with a razor-thin smile. “When she requested a routine cross-audit of your expense receipts, we discovered something very interesting.”
Evelyn held up a sheet of paper.
“Over the last eighteen months, you submitted $14,000 in fake maintenance inventory receipts, redirecting corporate petty cash into your personal PayPal account. You were stealing from your employer to finance your secret lifestyle while pretending to be a humble, hard-working husband.”
Derek’s knees buckled. He sank onto the edge of a packing box, trembling violently.
“Joanne… please…” he whimpered, all his former bravado completely shattered. “Please don't tell my boss. If they fire me, I’ll have nothing! I won't be able to pay bail for my mom!”
I walked up to him, stopping just two feet away. I looked down at the man who had flipped a table at my feet three days ago and told me to pick up the broken pieces.
“I didn't have to tell your boss, Derek,” I whispered smoothly. “My audit report was automatically delivered to your HR director at nine o'clock this morning. You’re already fired.”
Right on cue, Derek’s phone chimed with a high-priority email notification:
SUBJECT: IMMEDIATE TERMINATION OF EMPLOYMENT & NOTICE OF CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION.
Derek dropped his phone onto the carpet. He looked up at me with hollow, terrified eyes.
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“Time’s up, Mr. Campbell,” Deputy Miller announced, grabbing Derek by the arm. “Pick up your boxes and walk out. Now.”
Derek was escorted out of the house in his work uniform, carrying a single box of dirty laundry, standing on the driveway as the heavy oak front door slammed shut behind him.
