Chapter 5 - The Missing Asset
The harsh buzzing of Arthur Vance's phone cut through the stifling silence of the kitchen like a razor blade. Arthur stared at the screen, his face turning an ash-gray color. He tapped the glass, brought the device to his ear, and listened intently for a few agonizing seconds.
"Vance here," he said sharply. Then, his eyes widened. "Are you certain? When?"
Mark scrambled to his feet, a fresh spike of adrenaline overriding his grief. "What is it? What's happened now?"
Arthur lowered the phone slowly, his gaze sweeping across the room before landing heavily on Elena. "That was my partner stationed outside. The primary case file, along with the digital backups stored in my vehicle, has just been completely wiped remotely."
Elena gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in sheer horror. "Wiped? How is that possible?"
"Someone inside this house has administrative access to my department's cloud network," Arthur said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, accusatory register. He turned his sharp gaze back to Mark, then to Leo, and finally settled on Elena. "One of you isn't just hiding a dysfunctional family dynamic. You're covering up an institutional crime."
"Wait a minute," Mark yelled, holding up his hands. "I just walked through that front door ten minutes ago! I didn't even know you were investigating us until you walked in! How could I wipe a remote server?"
"You had your laptop bag with you," Arthur pointed out, eyeing the blue canvas bag sitting on the floor by the hallway. "A secure terminal connection can be established via proxy from any device within fifty feet of this kitchen."
"Check my bag!" Mark shouted, kicking the blue bag across the linoleum floor toward the investigator. "Go ahead! Look inside! You'll find a laptop, some tax documents, and half a turkey sandwich from lunch. That's it!"
Arthur didn't touch the bag. Instead, he walked slowly toward the back door leading to the attached garage. "The threat isn't just digital, Mr. Evans. My system alert also flagged a perimeter breach on your property five minutes before I knocked on your front door."
A cold sweat broke out across the back of Mark's neck. He looked at Elena, whose eyes were wide with a terror that had nothing to do with Child Protective Services or locked pantries.
"Elena," Mark whispered, his voice trembling. "Who else is in this house?"
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Elena didn't answer. She slowly turned her head toward the dark doorway leading down to the basement, where a faint, metallic scraping sound began to echo from the shadows below.
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