“Officer,” I said, my voice raised over Harrison’s protests. “That woman is attempting to steal financial records containing evidence of unauthorized transfers from my accounts.”

Patricia glared at me, her eyes narrowing into thin slits. “These are my personal papers.”

The second officer walked over to Patricia. “Ma’am, please step away from the bag and place the documents on the desk.”

“This is a violation of my rights,” Patricia said, but she slowly pulled her hand back.

She placed three folded sheets of paper on the dark mahogany desk.

But I noticed she kept her handbag clamped tightly under her arm.

Through the gap in the zipper, I could see the edge of a bright blue folder.

On it was the white printed logo of my software company.

My stomach tightened.

Why did Patricia have active files from my company?

“Let’s go, sir,” the officer said, guiding a trembling Harrison toward the elevator.

“Claire, please!” Harrison shouted as the elevator doors began to close. “I didn’t know about the money! I swear I didn’t know!”

The doors shut, cutting off his voice.