Chapter 7: The Digital Trail

Alex spent the next three days in a state of controlled paranoia, jumping every time his phone buzzed and analyzing every glance from his coworkers for signs of suspicion. The written statement he'd provided to Ms. Albright felt like a ticking time bomb—a collection of carefully constructed half-truths that would crumble the moment she applied serious scrutiny.

He'd claimed to have helped a student named "Mike Thompson" with registration issues, a generic name he'd pulled from his memory of random class rosters. The fictional Mike had supposedly needed multiple attempts to add a late-registration chemistry course, which explained Alex's extended system access. It was plausible enough to buy him time, but Alex knew that Ms. Albright would eventually try to verify every detail.

The worst part was the waiting. Alex went through the motions of his daily routine—classes, work, time with Lucy—while his mind constantly raced through contingency plans. Could he claim his credentials had been compromised? Suggest that someone else had used his access during his breaks? Every potential defense seemed to create more problems than it solved.

Friday morning brought the news Alex had been dreading. Mrs. Patterson approached his desk with an expression that mixed concern with barely concealed excitement about being involved in a real investigation.

"Alex, Ms. Albright asked me to give you this," she said, handing him a sealed envelope with his name written in precise handwriting. "She also wanted me to let you know that the IT department will be conducting a comprehensive audit of all system access logs and phone records from the past month."

Alex's hands remained steady as he accepted the envelope, but internally his world tilted sideways. Phone records. He'd been so focused on covering his digital tracks that he'd forgotten about the physical evidence—the landline calls from the basement that had processed Jay's enrollment changes.

"That sounds thorough," Alex managed to say. "I hope they catch whoever did this."

"Ms. Albright seems very confident they will," Mrs. Patterson replied. "She mentioned that modern forensic techniques can trace almost any digital activity, even when people think they've covered their tracks."

After Mrs. Patterson returned to her desk, Alex opened the envelope with trembling fingers. Inside was a single sheet of paper with Ms. Albright's letterhead and a brief, professionally worded message:

Mr. Carter, Please report to Conference Room B on Monday at 9:00 AM for a follow-up interview. The IT department has completed their initial analysis of system logs and phone records. We will be reviewing these findings in detail. Please bring any documentation related to your work activities during the week of October 8-14. Regards, Ms. Albright Director, IT Security

Alex read the message three times, each pass revealing new layers of threat. The formal tone suggested this was no longer a routine investigation—Ms. Albright had found something, and Monday's interview would be an interrogation disguised as a professional meeting.

The phrase "phone records" made his blood run cold. Alex had assumed the basement landlines were too old and obscure to be monitored, but Ms. Albright was clearly more thorough than he'd anticipated. If she could correlate the timing of those calls with his building access and system login records, she'd have an almost complete picture of his activities.

Alex's lunch break was supposed to be spent studying for his Statistics midterm, but instead he found himself wandering around campus in circles, his mind racing through increasingly desperate scenarios. Could he claim someone else had used his access card? Pretend he'd lost it and hadn't reported it? The problem with every lie was that Ms. Albright would demand proof, and Alex had no way to manufacture evidence that would survive professional scrutiny.

His phone buzzed with a text from Lucy: Haven't seen you all week. Everything okay? Want to grab dinner tonight?

The message highlighted another casualty of his digital warfare—his relationship with Lucy was fracturing under the weight of his deception and her growing suspicions. She'd stopped asking direct questions about his behavior, but Alex could see the doubt in her eyes, the way she studied his face when she thought he wasn't looking.

He typed back: Rain check? Lots of work stuff to catch up on.

The response came immediately: Alex, we need to talk. This isn't like you.

Alex stared at the message, recognizing the tone. Lucy had made a decision about something, and she wasn't going to be deflected with vague excuses and false reassurances. Their relationship had reached a crisis point, and Alex realized he might lose her even if he somehow managed to escape Ms. Albright's investigation.

But first, he had to survive Monday's interview.

---

The weekend passed in a blur of forced normalcy and mounting dread. Alex attended his usual Saturday study group, helped his roommate with a programming assignment, and even managed to have Sunday dinner with Lucy and Sara at their favorite off-campus restaurant. To outside observers, he probably looked like any other college student dealing with midterm stress and part-time job responsibilities.

But underneath the surface, Alex was conducting a desperate inventory of his vulnerabilities. The phone records would show calls from the basement registration lines during his shift. His building access logs would confirm he'd been in the administration building at the relevant times. His system access records would prove he'd been logged into Aegis while those calls were being made.

Individually, each piece of evidence could be explained away. Collectively, they painted a picture that even a mediocre investigator could recognize.

By Sunday night, Alex had made a decision that terrified and exhilarated him in equal measure. Instead of continuing to play defense, he would go on the offensive. Ms. Albright expected him to crack under pressure, to eventually confess or make a mistake that would confirm her suspicions. But what if he could give her a different explanation entirely—one that cleared his name while demonstrating his value as an employee?

The plan was audacious and risky, but it was also his only chance to control the narrative before Ms. Albright wrote the ending herself.

---

Monday morning arrived gray and drizzling, as if the weather was reflecting Alex's mood. He dressed carefully in his best interview clothes—a button-down shirt Lucy had given him for his birthday and the one pair of dress pants he owned. If this was going to be his final performance, he wanted to look the part of a dedicated student employee rather than a digital saboteur.

Conference Room B felt smaller than he remembered, the fluorescent lights more harsh, the air more stifling. Ms. Albright sat in the same position as before, but this time her materials were more extensive—multiple folders, a laptop computer, and what looked like printed phone logs spread across the table.

"Mr. Carter, thank you for coming. Please, sit down."

Alex settled into the chair across from her, noting how she'd positioned herself with the light behind her, making her expression harder to read while keeping his face fully illuminated. Every detail of her setup suggested someone experienced in extracting confessions from reluctant subjects.

"I've had a very interesting conversation with our IT department," Ms. Albright began, consulting her laptop screen. "They've completed their analysis of system logs and phone records from the week in question."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle in the air between them. Alex forced himself to maintain steady eye contact, projecting the curiosity of someone genuinely interested in the investigation's progress.

"The results are quite revealing," she continued. "Would you like to know what they found?"

"Of course," Alex replied. "I hope it helps you catch whoever did this."

Ms. Albright smiled, and Alex recognized the expression of a predator about to pounce. "We've identified a series of phone calls to the registration system that occurred during the exact timeframe when Mr. Sharma's records were modified. The calls originated from the basement phone bank, which requires special building access to reach."

Alex nodded, his expression carefully neutral. "That sounds like solid evidence. Do the logs show who made the calls?"

"That's where things get interesting," Ms. Albright said, opening one of her folders. "The phone system doesn't record individual identities, but we can correlate the timing with building access logs and system login records."

She slid a printed report across the table, and Alex's heart nearly stopped as he recognized his own access patterns highlighted in yellow marker. Building entry at 11:15 PM. System login at 11:23 PM. Phone calls to registration lines between 11:30 and 11:50 PM. System logout at 11:52 PM.

"As you can see," Ms. Albright continued, "someone with your access credentials was in the building, logged into our systems, and had physical access to the phone bank during the exact window when the malicious changes were made."

Alex studied the report with what he hoped looked like professional interest rather than growing panic. "This is incredible detective work. Have you been able to identify any other employees who had similar access patterns?"

Ms. Albright's eyebrows rose slightly. "Mr. Carter, you seem to be missing the significance of these findings. Your access credentials appear on every relevant log from that evening."

This was the moment Alex had been preparing for—the point where Ms. Albright expected him to break down and confess, or at least begin making desperate excuses. Instead, he leaned forward with an expression of dawning realization.

"Ms. Albright, I think I know what happened."

She blinked, clearly not expecting that response. "I'm sorry?"

"The phone registration system," Alex said, his voice gaining confidence as he launched into his prepared explanation. "I've been thinking about this all weekend, ever since you mentioned someone had used those old basement lines. There's a vulnerability in the legacy system that most people don't know about."

Ms. Albright's expression shifted from predatory confidence to cautious interest. "What kind of vulnerability?"

Alex pulled out his own folder—one he'd spent Sunday night preparing with meticulous care. "I did some research after our last conversation, and I discovered something disturbing about the phone registration protocol. The system was designed in the 1990s, before modern security standards existed."

He opened the folder and extracted a detailed technical document he'd compiled using his intimate knowledge of the university's systems. "The phone lines use an authentication method called 'caller ID spoofing' that can be exploited with readily available equipment. Someone with the right knowledge could theoretically call the registration system from anywhere and make it appear as though the call originated from our basement lines."

Ms. Albright leaned forward, her predatory demeanor replaced by professional curiosity. "You're suggesting this was an external attack that was designed to look like an inside job?"

"Exactly," Alex said, projecting the enthusiasm of someone who'd just solved a complex puzzle. "Think about it—whoever did this wanted to frame a university employee for the attack. They researched our phone system, identified the vulnerability, and used it to create a false digital trail that would point to someone with legitimate building access."

Alex could see Ms. Albright's mind working, reevaluating her assumptions in light of this new information. The beautiful part of his explanation was that it contained just enough technical truth to be believable while deflecting suspicion away from him entirely.

"This is... quite sophisticated," Ms. Albright said slowly. "Do you have documentation of this vulnerability?"

Alex slid his technical report across the table. "I spent the weekend researching the phone system's architecture and testing some of the theoretical attack vectors. What I found is deeply disturbing—not just for Mr. Sharma's case, but for the security of every student's records."

Ms. Albright began reading his report, her expression growing more concerned with each page. Alex had crafted the document to highlight real but obscure weaknesses in the legacy system, presenting himself as a proactive employee who'd identified a critical security flaw rather than the person who'd exploited it.

"Mr. Carter, if what you're suggesting is accurate, then we have a much larger problem than one compromised student account."

"I agree," Alex said gravely. "I think we need to involve IT security immediately to patch this vulnerability before someone else gets targeted. I'd be happy to help with the technical analysis—I probably know the legacy systems better than anyone else on campus."

Ms. Albright set down the report and studied Alex's face with new intensity. But this time, her expression wasn't suspicious—it was impressed. "Mr. Carter, this is exactly the kind of proactive thinking we need in our security department. Would you be willing to work with our IT team to develop a comprehensive fix for this vulnerability?"

Alex felt a surge of euphoria so intense he had to work to keep his expression professionally modest. Not only had he deflected suspicion from himself, but he'd positioned himself as a valuable asset in solving the very crime he'd committed.

"Absolutely," he said. "Whatever I can do to protect our students' academic records."

Ms. Albright was already making notes on her laptop, her earlier predatory focus replaced by the urgency of someone who'd just discovered a system-wide security crisis. "I'll need you to prepare a detailed technical briefing for the IT department. Can you have something ready by Wednesday?"

"Of course," Alex replied. "I'll start working on it immediately."

As the interview concluded and Alex gathered his materials, he caught his reflection in the conference room window. The person looking back at him had evolved again—no longer just a digital saboteur or a hunted suspect, but someone who could manipulate truth itself to serve his purposes.

He'd turned his greatest vulnerability into his strongest asset, transforming Ms. Albright from hunter into ally. But as he walked back to his desk, Alex realized that his victory came with a price he was only beginning to understand.

He was no longer the innocent student who'd simply wanted to protect his friend. He had become something far more dangerous—someone who could lie with scientific precision, manipulate authority figures with calculated charm, and sleep peacefully after systematically destroying another person's life.

The ghost in the machine had learned to become flesh and blood, walking among his victims while they thanked him for his help.

And the most terrifying part was how natural it felt.