Chapter 17: A Conversation With My Staff
I gathered the Northline employees after closing on Thursday.
The detailing bays smelled of clean microfiber and the faint citrus cleaner we had used for years.
My workers stood beside carts that held polishers, lights, and carefully labeled bottles.
I explained what we knew about the unauthorized file exports and customer complaints.
I did not identify clients who had asked to remain private.
One technician, Andre Fields, raised his hand.
“Are you saying Marcus could have been photographing things while we were working?” he asked.
“That’s one possibility investigators are examining,” I replied.
“I won’t tell you it’s proven when it isn’t.”
Another employee asked whether the shop would close.
I said that we had enough cash reserves to continue operating but needed to rebuild some procedures immediately.
A supervisor suggested installing more cameras inside vehicles.
I rejected the idea.
More recording would increase the risk if we failed to control it properly.
Instead, we agreed on a witness system for handling customer belongings and stricter limits on who could access intake images.
Every employee would receive additional training and the ability to report concerns outside the normal management chain.
Andre looked relieved.
“I saw Marcus carrying a hard drive last winter,” he said.
“He told me it was for payroll.”
I asked him to document what he remembered and tell investigators directly.
He nodded.
I thanked him in front of the staff without pretending that his memory proved a crime.
The meeting lasted forty minutes.
It was the first time since the vandalism that I felt like a business owner again rather than the unwilling subject of somebody else’s scheme.
Chapter 18: Denise’s Second Story
Denise gave a television interview that weekend.
She stood in front of her house wearing a navy blazer and described her son as a promising young man who had made a regrettable choice under emotional pressure.
She claimed that I had provoked him by publicly insulting the Mercer family.
The reporter asked whether she had discussed a business proposal with my former manager.
Denise said she had only helped a young entrepreneur understand the automotive market.
She denied any knowledge of stolen customer information.
Then the reporter asked why she had wanted Mateo to stop playing the delivery video.
Denise said she had been protecting the privacy of her home.
The explanation sounded plausible to someone who had not seen the full recording.
But the segment included the footage of her pointing toward my garage while Marcus moved boxes bearing Northline labels.
Denise appeared startled when the clip played beside her interview.
Her phone began ringing before the segment ended.
I watched it with Leah, who was folding laundry on the couch.
“She keeps acting like the facts are a public-relations problem,” Leah said.
I turned off the television.
“Maybe that’s how she has solved every problem until now,” I answered.
Leah put down a towel.
“And maybe you’re becoming too interested in watching her fail.”
I looked at her.
She did not apologize for the observation.
“We need to protect the business and our daughter,” she continued.
“We don’t need to spend every evening discussing Denise.
”
That was the first argument Leah and I had about the case.
I understood her concern, but I was not ready to admit how much of my attention the Mercers had taken.
