“For what?”
“My quarterly audit.”
The table went still again. “Your what?” Dad asked.
I pulled out my phone and set it on the table. “Those aren’t old bonds from Grandpa,” I said. “Those are bearer bonds issued by the United States Treasury. Current series. Total face value, five hundred thousand dollars.”
The color drained from Vanessa’s face. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m a senior financial analyst with the Treasury Department’s Securities Fraud Investigation Division,” I said. “I hold a high-level security clearance. Those bonds in your purse are protected government securities that I maintain custody of as part of my work investigating international financial crimes.”
Derek’s hand froze on his wine glass. “Government securities?” he asked.
“Specifically, instruments used to track and identify securities fraud patterns. Each bond is serialized and registered in the federal tracking database. The moment anyone attempts to cash them, transfer them, or even verify them with a financial institution, the system automatically flags the transaction and notifies the Treasury Inspector General’s office.”
“You’re joking,” Vanessa said. Her voice had gone sharp. “You’re making this up to scare me.”
“I reported the theft four hours ago,” I said. “To my supervisor, to the Inspector General, and to the federal financial crimes response team. They’ve been tracking the situation since you left my apartment.”
The doorbell rang. Everyone at the table jumped except me. I had been expecting it.
“That,” I said quietly, “is the response team.”
The doorbell rang again, followed by a firm knock and a commanding voice. “Treasury Inspector General. We need to speak with Vanessa Morrison.”
Mom’s face went white. “Sarah,” she whispered, “what is happening?”
“Vanessa removed protected federal instruments from my residence,” I said. “Now she has to answer for it.”
Dad stood up. “I’ll get the door.”
“No.” Vanessa grabbed his arm. “Don’t let them in. Sarah is lying. This is some kind of sick joke.”
“It’s not a joke,” I said. I looked directly at her. “You entered my secured residence. You bypassed a locked office door. You opened a protected safe. You took five hundred thousand dollars in United States Treasury instruments. You just told this entire table that you planned to cash those instruments through a financial adviser.”
The knocking grew more insistent. “We have authorization to enter. Open the door, please.”
Derek pushed back from the table, his face ashen. “Vanessa,” he said, “what did you do?”