Chapter 12 - The Forensic AuditBy Monday morning, the lock had been replaced with a commercial-grade smart deadbolt, the security codes were reset, and a professional cleaning crew had restored Unit 3B to its pristine condition.
I sat in Elena Ruiz’s office, watching a large monitor on the wall displaying a detailed spreadsheet. Sitting with us was Marcus Thorne, a certified forensic accountant Elena had hired to trace the money Garrett had moved over the past two years.
"Your instincts were right, Maya," Marcus said, tapping his tablet screen. "The forty-seven thousand dollars you found on Garrett's laptop was just the visible surface."
I felt a cold prickle along the back of my neck. "What else did you find?"
Marcus pulled up a network diagram linking four different bank accounts. "Over the last eighteen months, Garrett opened a private credit line in his own name. To get approved, he listed your tech company salary as joint household income without your authorization."
Elena leaned forward, her expression darkening. "He forged her signature on the application?"
"Worse," Marcus replied, sliding a PDF document across the desk. "He used a digital signature platform using an email account he created in your name: [email protected]. He drew thirty-two thousand dollars from that credit line. And guess where twenty-five thousand of it went?"
"Tabitha," I said flatly.
"Direct wire transfer to Tabitha Cole Designs LLC," Marcus confirmed. "And the remaining seven thousand went directly to Lorraine Cole’s personal checking account for 'consulting fees.'"
Elena took a slow breath and looked at me over her glasses. "This moves far beyond standard divorce asset division, Maya. This is identity theft, wire fraud, and grand larceny."
"What are our options?" I asked.
"Option A: We use this as absolute leverage in the divorce settlement," Elena explained. "We demand the immediate return of all dissipated funds, forfeiture of his claims to any joint marital assets, and a full indemnification release for the fraudulent credit line."
"And Option B?"
"Option B," Elena said with a sharp, lethal smile, "we submit this forensic report directly to the Maricopa County District Attorney’s financial crimes division today. Garrett faces criminal charges."
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I looked at the forged signature on the document—my name, written in a cheap, computer-generated script by the man I had trusted for four years.
"We file the criminal report," I said without a second of doubt. "Let him explain Option B to his mother."
