Chapter 7 - The Midnight Trap
The heavy door creaked open, revealing a thick beam of light cutting through the dark office.
Dr. Reginald Croft stepped across the threshold, holding a flashlight in his left hand and a tumbler of scotch in his right. He was wearing his overcoat, looking like a man who had stopped by his office one last time before heading home for the night.
He walked past the door frame, heading straight toward his desk to retrieve a leather briefcase resting on the side table.
He didn't see me standing behind the open door.
Croft set his glass down, picked up his briefcase, and opened the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a manila envelope. As he turned to leave, his flashlight beam swept across the floor—and caught the blue corner of Sarah’s scanner sticking out slightly from beneath the desk curtain.
Croft froze.
His eyes narrowed. He lowered his flashlight, aiming the beam directly under the desk.
“Who’s in here?” Croft barked, reaching into his coat pocket.
Before he could pull his hand out, I stepped out from behind the door and slammed it shut, turning the thumb-latch lock with a sharp CLICK.
Croft whipped around, his flashlight beam swinging wildly until it hit my face.
“Callahan?!” Croft gasped, stumbling back against the desk, his scotch glass spilling over his leather blotter. “What the hell are you doing in my office?!”
I reached over and flicked the overhead light switch. The bright fluorescent tubes buzzed to life, flooding the room with blinding white light.
Sarah crawled out from beneath the desk, holding her encrypted thumb drive tightly in her hand.
Croft’s eyes darted from me, to Sarah, to the unlocked shredder bin, and finally to the stack of scanned invoices sitting on the desk. His face went through a rapid series of expressions: confusion, rage, and finally, sheer, unadulterated terror.
“This is breaking and entering!” Croft yelled, his voice cracking into a high pitch as he reached for the desk phone. “I’m calling security! I’m having you arrested for felony burglary!”
“Go ahead, Reginald,” I said smoothly, pulling out my phone and showing him the screen. “Call them. But before you press speed-dial, you might want to look at what’s currently uploading to the State Assistant District Attorney’s secure portal.”
Croft stopped, his finger hovering over the keypad.
“We have forty-eight months of double-billed food liquidator invoices,” Sarah announced calmly, stepping beside me. “We have the wire transfer logs routing state endowment funds to Vance & Associates Consulting LLC in Delaware. And we have the signed commission agreement paying Linda Harper three thousand dollars a month to keep cafeteria portions below nutritional compliance.”
Croft’s hands began to shake violently. The flashlight slipped from his grip, clattering onto the hardwood floor.
“I... I didn't know about the Delaware account,” Croft stammered, his polished, aristocratic demeanor dissolving into pathetic desperation. “That was Vance! Arthur Vance managed the vendor contracts! I just signed the high-level budget approvals! I didn't know he was buying discount surplus!”
“You signed forty-eight monthly budget approvals, Reginald,” I said, stepping closer to him until I was standing inches from his face. “You took a two-hundred-thousand-dollar annual salary while children in your building were eating saltine crackers for lunch because your staff told them the charity fund ran out. You built your reputation on the backs of terrified scholarship parents who were afraid to speak up.”
Croft sank into his leather executive chair, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent panic.
“What do you want?” Croft whimpered into his palms. “What do you want from me, Julian?”
I looked at the silver-haired headmaster who had threatened to ruin my daughter’s future twelve hours ago.
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“I don't want anything from you, Reginald,” I said flatly. “The District Attorney already has everything he needs.”
I turned the thumb-latch, pulled open the office door, and walked out into the quiet corridor, leaving the headmaster alone in the bright white light of his ruined office.
