Consequences(17)

The manager at the Red Wing had been the most difficult to quiet. After the e-mail, he immediately began calling and texting her phone. Thankfully, Anthony had her BlackBerry with him back in Iowa. Claire responded apologetically to the manager via text. She was so sorry to leave in such a rush, but you have to answer when opportunity knocks. Anthony was pretty sure that if she were to return to Atlanta, which she wouldn’t, the Red Wing would not be willing to reemploy.

Keeping Claire’s laptop, Anthony could check her e-mail and account balances. He would also be able to periodically send e-mails or post a Facebook status update to keep the curious from overreacting. Even though the computer would be in Iowa, with a VPN (Virtual Private Network) set in Atlanta, the web address and URL wouldn’t change. No one would know the point of origin.

Claire’s BlackBerry met an unfortunate accident. Many cell phones contain GPS trackers. Anthony wasn’t willing to take that chance. A mass text went out explaining that Claire would have a new number and would contact everyone as soon as possible. Then, after removing the SIM card, Anthony backed his rental car over the device—it didn’t survive. His case also contained the final hardware of his surveillance equipment. He definitely didn’t want some stupid painter running across one of his cameras.

Six months of footage taught him much about Claire Nichols. She kept late hours and enjoyed sleeping late in the mornings. She liked to cook and bake, but gave a lot away. There were no boyfriends or male visitors to the apartment, which pleased Anthony. She liked to talk on the phone and chat with people on the computer. She rarely watched television except for a show called Grey’s Anatomy and another on the same station. She liked to exercise, sometimes walking with the lady next door. Rarely did she stay around the apartment, going out with friends frequently. Many times, she would return home in a less than sober state, but always alone. During Christmas season, she put up decorations and even a tree. The best part of the surveillance was access to her schedules and passwords. The computer hacking would have been more difficult without those passwords. Oh, he could have done it, but this was easier.

Anthony heard the knock on the door. He removed his gloves, put them in his pockets, and opened the door. A burly man with underarm stains and a perspiration-drenched face met his gaze. He inquired. “Hi, are you John Vandersol?”

“Yeah, that’s me—you the movers? Come on in.” Anthony decided that even though he looked nothing like Claire’s brother-in-law, his presence in her apartment made more sense than any other male. People rarely remembered faces anyway.

Anthony signed the contract and paid the man in cash, with a 200 dollar tip. He explained that his sister-in-law moved to another city for a job and wanted all of her things taken to the local refuge for donation. The mover wasn’t interested in the backstory, and Anthony didn’t push. He gave enough information to make the transition plausible and not too much to make it sound contrived. Too bad Claire wouldn’t be filing taxes. She could receive a hell of a deduction for her donations. It didn’t take the men long to empty the apartment.

Her car sold for an amazingly low price. Actually, it hadn’t been enough to pay off the loan, but the point was to get rid of it. Forging her signature on the paperwork wasn’t difficult. He used her signature on the napkin as a pattern. The fortunate buyer didn’t ask questions.

Caressing the case that held the only remnants of Claire’s previous life, Anthony wiped the doorknob with his gloves, locked the door to the empty apartment, and placed the keys into an envelope. The complex had been e-mailed about Claire’s sudden move, as well as reimbursed for severing the lease. The envelope was deposited into an open slot in the office door. Getting into the rented vehicle, he called his driver: