Chapter 4
The first officer arrived twelve minutes later.
It felt like an hour.
Dad kept the second phone in his hand the entire time.
Diane sat on the couch with her arms folded.
She had stopped crying.
Now she looked angry again.
That scared me more.
Trey paced near the window.
I sat beside Dad with my laptop open and every bank statement I could find on the screen.
Two officers entered the house.
A woman named Officer Ramirez spoke first.
“Who called?”
“I did.”
Dad stood.
He explained the missing money.
My college savings.
Grandma's estate account.
The hidden phone.
The messages.
Officer Ramirez listened without interrupting.
Then she asked, “Who owns the phone?”
Dad pointed to Diane.
Diane immediately said, “He went through my private property without permission.”
Officer Ramirez looked at her.
“We'll get to that.”
For the first time all evening, Diane seemed uncertain.
The second officer spoke to me separately at the kitchen table.
I told him everything.
How I discovered the money missing.
How Diane admitted using it for Trey.
How Dad found the earlier transfers.
When I mentioned my birth certificate and Social Security card, he asked where they were now.
“My desk.”
“Can you check?”
Dad went upstairs with me.
The top drawer of my desk was unlocked.
It had always been unlocked.
Why would I lock documents inside my own bedroom?
I pulled out the blue folder.
My birth certificate was there.
My passport was there.
My Social Security card wasn't.
My hands went numb.
“Dad.”
He looked.
“Oh, God.”
We searched the drawer again.
Then the filing cabinet.
Then my closet.
Nothing.
I knew exactly where I had put it.
Dad knew too because he had given me the folder when I started my grocery store job.
We returned downstairs.
“My Social Security card is missing.”
Officer Ramirez wrote something down.
Diane laughed.
“You lose things all the time.”
I turned toward her.
“No, I don't.”
“You're seventeen.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You probably took it to work.”
“I didn't.”
Officer Ramirez asked Diane, “Do you know where it is?”
“No.”
“Have you ever handled Maya's documents?”
“I'm her stepmother. Of course I have.”
“Did you remove her Social Security card?”
“No.”
Dad handed the officer the second phone.
“There are messages about it.”
Diane stood.
“You cannot just give them my phone.”
Officer Ramirez didn't touch it yet.
She asked Dad where he found it.
He explained.
Then she asked Diane whether she consented to officers examining it.
“No.”
Officer Ramirez nodded.
“Understood.”
Diane looked almost relieved.
Dad wasn't.
“So what happens now?”
“We document the complaint. Because this involves account access, transfers, estate funds, and potentially identity-related issues, investigators may need records from the banks.”
“Can she leave?”
Officer Ramirez looked at Diane.
“At this point, unless there is an arrestable offense established tonight, yes.”
Diane immediately grabbed her purse.
Dad looked at her.
“Where are you going?”
She stopped.
“You said I could leave.”
“I said that before I knew you took my mother's money.”
Her chin lifted.
“I'm staying with my sister.”
Trey moved toward her.
“I'm coming.”
Dad looked at him.
“You were leaving tomorrow anyway.”
Trey stared at him.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
“After everything?”
Dad laughed bitterly.
“After everything is exactly why.”
Trey looked at me.
“This is because of her.”
Dad stepped between us.
“No.”
His voice was calm.
“This is because of you.”
Trey blinked.
“You got a DUI.”
Dad held up one finger.
“You haven't worked in eight months.”
Another.
“You borrowed money for gambling.”
Another.
“You let your mother take thousands of dollars to protect you from consequences.”
“I didn't know it was stolen.”
“But the moment you knew, your first concern was whether I was kicking you out.”
Trey's face reddened.
Dad finished quietly.
“That's why.”
Diane walked to the front door.
Officer Ramirez stopped her.
“Ma'am, before you go, I need your current contact information.”
Diane gave it.
Then she looked at Dad.
“Once you involve police, there's no coming back from this.”
Dad stared at her.
“You emptied my daughter's college account.”
“You could have handled this privately.”
“You stole from my dead mother's estate.”
“I was going to explain.”
“You hid a phone.”
Her lips tightened.
Dad stepped closer.
“And someone asked you about my daughter's identity documents.”
Diane's confidence finally cracked.
She looked at me.
“Maya, I would never hurt you.”
I stood.
“You already did.”
For once, she had no answer.
She and Trey left.
The house became silent after the door closed.
Not peaceful.
Empty.
Officer Ramirez stayed another twenty minutes.
She gave Dad a report number and told us to contact the banks first thing in the morning.
She also told us to freeze my credit.
I didn't understand.
“I'm seventeen. I don't even have credit.”
“That doesn't mean someone can't attempt to use your identity.”
Dad looked sick.
After the officers left, we sat at the kitchen table.
Neither of us knew what to say.
Finally Dad whispered, “I'm sorry.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
“For not seeing it.”
“Dad—”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I gave her access.”
“You trusted your wife.”
“And I didn't listen when things felt wrong.”
I remembered a hundred small moments.
Diane opening my mail.
Diane asking exactly how much I had saved.
Diane insisting she needed to know the password to my bank account “in case of emergencies.”
Dad had been there for some of them.
He had told me she was trying to help.
I didn't want to make him feel worse.
But I couldn't lie.
“I tried to tell you she treated Trey differently.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“You always said she was adjusting.”
“I know.”
“You said I needed to give her time.”
“I know.”
His voice cracked.
I looked down.
That hurt more than anger.
Dad reached across the table.
“You should not have had to prove it this way.”
I started crying.
I had been holding it in since I saw $12.43.
Now I couldn't stop.
“What am I supposed to do about college?”
Dad moved around the table and hugged me.
“We'll fix it.”
“How?”
“I don't know yet.”
“That money took years.”
“I know.”
“My applications are due soon.”
“I know.”
“I can't just earn five thousand again.”
“You won't have to.”
“How do you know?”
Dad pulled back.
“Because even if I have to sell my truck, you are going to college.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That's your work truck.”
“I can get another truck.”
“Dad—”
“Maya.”
He wiped my face.
“I failed to protect what you saved. I will not make you pay for my mistake.”
Before I could answer, my laptop chimed.
An email.
The subject line made my stomach drop.
WELCOME TO NORTHSTAR CREDIT.
I clicked it.
It said my application had been received.
I hadn't applied for anything.
“Dad.”
He leaned over.
The application was for a personal line of credit.
Requested amount:
$15,000.
Applicant:
Maya Bennett.
Dad grabbed his phone.
“We're calling them.”
The email had been sent only two hours earlier.
While I was at home arguing with Diane.
Dad called the number from the company's official website, not the email.
After twenty minutes of identity verification, the representative confirmed an application had been submitted using my name, Social Security number, date of birth, and home address.
Dad looked at me.
I felt like throwing up.
“Can you tell us the email address used?” he asked.
The representative couldn't give the full address.
But she read enough.
It started with M.
Then a series of numbers.
And ended with a provider I didn't use.
Dad asked about the phone number.
Again, only partial information.
Last four digits:
7714.
Dad slowly turned toward the counter.
Diane had written her number on the police information sheet.
Her number ended in 7714.
The representative froze the application and flagged it for fraud.
Dad called Officer Ramirez.
She returned our call ten minutes later.
When he told her, her tone changed immediately.
“Do not contact Mrs. Bennett.”
Dad looked at the front door.
“We won't.”
“Secure Maya's documents. Freeze her credit with all three bureaus. Save every email and screenshot. An investigator will contact you.”
Dad thanked her.
Then he looked at me.
I realized something.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“If Diane submitted the application two hours ago…”
He understood before I finished.
“She did it while she was still here.”
We stared at each other.
Then my phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
You really shouldn't have involved the police.
Dad reached for the phone.
Another message appeared.
Your father is going to regret this.
Then a third.
Tell him to check what his wife has on him before he starts calling people thieves.
Dad's face changed.
“Who is that?”
I knew.
I didn't know how, but I knew.
“Rick.”
Another message appeared.
And this one was different.
It contained a photo.
Dad standing outside a motel.
With a woman beside him.
May you like
The message underneath said:
Ask your dad what he was doing here last November.
