He looked a bit surprised but didn’t get a chance to answer as Amanda snapped her phone shut. “Sorry, but I need to get home, the natives are getting restless.”
“That’s fine,” Chrissy said, turning away from Micah, embarrassed to have said so much. “There’s no more room in my brain anyway.”
“And I’ve got to pick up my daughter from a friend’s house in a little while,” Micah said.
Amanda went out first but then Micah moved ahead and
held the screen door open for Chrissy, making it necessary for her to move past him close enough to smell his cologne. It was very nice. She’d once worked the perfume counter in a department store but couldn’t place this scent—musky and yet sweet somehow.
She realized she’d stopped moving in order to identify his cologne and smiled awkwardly, hurrying down the steps and adjusting her purse on her shoulder.
“Well, thanks again,” Chrissy said when she reached the sidewalk and turned back to look at him one last time. He really was an attractive man, confident, solid, easygoing.
“You’re welcome,” he said. She was a few steps away when he called her name. “Uh, Chrissy?”
She turned and raised her eyebrows.
“Do you have a fax machine?”
What an odd question. “Nooo,” she said slowly, trying to determine the significance.
“Oh, well, I’m working from home Monday, if you wanted to come over and use my fax machine or get any more help that would be, um, fine.”
Fine? Really? “Are you sure? I mean, I already took half your
Saturday.”
“I’ll be here anyway. It wouldn’t be a big deal, but, ya know, only if you want to.”
Her mind flashed back to their date, when she’d said they could try again if he wanted to. His response had been “If I want to?” She wondered if he was remembering the same exchange.
“Well, I might just do that,” Chrissy said, smiling for the first time in several hours. It lasted only a moment. Then all the things she’d learned in the last few hours rose back up, taking the smile and the moment of buoyancy away as she realized that whatever she was up against was just getting started.
“I’ll call,” she said.
Micah smiled and nodded before inclining his head one more time and adding, “Good.”
Chapter 31
Chula Vista, California
Monday, May 19
Chressaidia was up with the sun—Frederico’s door was still shut. The success of having found Mr. Holmes and the guns so fast was intoxicating and in light of her victory she found herself more and more disgusted with the role assigned to her in the beginning. She might not be male, but she was as strong as any man. And she was the Commander’s daughter. Her father was proud of her;
she could tell from the conversations they had almost daily as she updated him on what she was doing—though she hadn’t mentioned the tattoo yet. She needed to prove herself first. But each time she hung up the phone with her father, she was determined to make him even more proud.
A few more weeks and she’d be ready to return to him, her honor restored and her worth proven. Frederico was beginning to notice that something was different, however—even though he didn’t yet know what she was doing. He’d recently allowed her to manage most of the southern line, supposedly so he could open up more routes north of San Diego, but she’d gone far beyond the parameters he’d set, contacting other dealers on her own, gaining their confidence and allegiance.
She sat down at the computer and went through her daily routine of checking her e-mail, bank accounts, and credit report.
There were only a few e-mails, one from Eduardo saying that he’d meet her at noon to discuss the details—sending specifics over e-mail wasn’t wise. He had once worked as a loader for a transport company, so he knew exactly how this was supposed to happen, and he’d arranged everything with only the most basic information from Chressaidia. She liked that he didn’t ask a lot of questions.
Next, she checked her bank account, opened six weeks before she even arrived in the U.S., and made note of the balances. She’d need some funding before she executed the second border crossing and needed to think about what options were available to her. Unfortunately she’d maxed out the credit for Chressaidia Salazar and had been turned down for a high-interest credit card last week. She made a mental note to ask Frederico about getting some more names for funding purposes. He called them quick fixes: two-week runs on bank accounts and credit cards, then shred everything, and start over.
Once she was assured of the bank balances, she checked the credit report for Chressaidia Salazar. She hadn’t kept a vigilance the first few weeks. As she used more and more credit, though, and took more liberties with the identity, she’d realized it would be prudent to keep an eye on things—make sure there would be no complications in remaining as Chressaidia Salazar until the mission was over. Even with the credit used up, the name was still sound. It would be complicated to reinvent herself at this point, when so many people knew her as Chressaidia.
She typed in the password to the web site she’d subscribed to and was planning the day in her head when the big red letters on the screen caught her attention. She stared at them and read slowly the words “Credit Fraud report filed 5/17. Do not extend credit without verification.”
She cursed in her mind, and immediately pulled open the drawer that had all the information files on the real Chressaidia Salazar. The documents had been included with the purchase of the ID, and it was because of these details that she’d been able to use
the ID so fully. How long would it take to get this kind of information on a new name? How much would it cost? The first transport was scheduled for Tuesday. She couldn’t believe this was happening right now!
After pausing for a moment, she pulled out a bank statement belonging to the real Chressaidia and considered it. At the bottom of the statement were three handwritten numbers under the
heading of “Possible Pins.” If the real Chressaidia was already on to her . . .
She had to act fast. She had to buy herself as much time as possible.
Chapter 32
Idaho Falls, Idaho
Sunday, quite possibly, had been the longest day of Chrissy’s life. She taught her Primary class but missed having Nathan and Carlos there. In Primary they talked about the second Article of Faith: “We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression.” She couldn’t get it out of her head. She hadn’t made all those fraudulent charges, but it was up to her to make it right. This wasn’t her sin, her transgression, and yet she was the one suffering the consequences. And not only in regard to the identity theft, but Livvy too. When had she made the choices that earned her these results?
By the time Monday rolled around, she was still overwhelmed but was also very, very angry. She arrived at the police station just after 8:00, thirsty for the obvious justice they would help her find. She only waited a few minutes before being led through a maze of brightly lit hallways that ended in an office without a name on the door. The officer was very young and had a brace on his knee, making her wonder if he’d been relegated to a desk job due to an injury. It would help explain his dour expression and lack of emotion as she explained her situation.
“Before I can issue a criminal fraud report, I need verification from at least one of these creditors that fraud has taken place.” The officer looked at the final page of the credit report Chrissy had brought with her before placing it on his desk and looking up.
“Well, I haven’t actually talked to any of them yet,” Chrissy said. “I’ll be making calls today but I need a police report to really get things going.”
The officer was shaking his head before she finished. “Standard practice is that they verify fraud occurred on their end first, then we file a report. Hypothetically, you could rack up some debts, then say someone else did it and get them wiped out. The best I can do right now is file a com
plaint.”
Chrissy blinked. “I need a police report,” she said, remembering the notes she’d taken. “And I wouldn’t do this to get out of paying some debts. You can look at the credit report. I’ve had terrific credit until February of this year.”
“Again, getting credit is easily done—but not so easily undone. Just get one of these companies to say it’s fraud, and I’ll write up a report.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
Chrissy took a breath. Another officer walked behind her and asked Officer Jackson how long he’d be.
“Just another minute,” he said, looking over Chrissy’s head.
She’d never even been inside a police station and had been intimidated enough just walking through the big glass doors.
“Look, ma’am,” Officer Jackson continued. “The fact is that you’re asking me to file a report stating that criminal activity has occurred. I can’t do that without proof that indeed a criminal act has been committed. However, I can record the fact that you came in and filed a complaint, so we’ll be ready when you come back in.”
Chrissy leaned forward. “So basically what you’re telling me is that even though I’m the victim in this, I’m guilty until I can prove myself innocent.” It was discouraging to hear it from a source she’d thought would help her. Her rage, already highly volatile, began rising.
“You haven’t given me any reason to believe you’re innocent.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong!”
His expression didn’t change. He handed the credit report back to her. “There’s also some debate over whether this should be filed here, or where the fraud originated. A fraud report from a creditor will help us establish that, so just get one of these card companies to give you a report. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Chrissy stood up, holding her purse with both hands and glared at him. “Anything else implies you actually helped me with something in the first place.”
Chapter 33
Nathan.”
Chrissy’s head swung to the side even as she realized it wasn’t her Nathan being called. Her Nathan was at school. But hearing the name gave her a lump in her throat as she watched a young mom coax her son back to her side of the divider that funneled the bank patrons to the transaction counter.
“I can help whoever’s next,” a cheery voice said, causing Chrissy to plant a fake smile on her face as she walked briskly toward the counter. The failed attempt to get the police report was still fresh on her mind, but she couldn’t let it slow her down.
She handed the bank teller her withdrawal slip. “I need six hundred dollars in cash.” She tried not to wince at the amount. Every dollar she spent was from her savings, and it was going out faster than she’d hoped. She had to find a job. “And I need to change my pin numbers.”
“ID?” the woman asked as she started tapping on the computer keys.
“Of course,” Chrissy said, opening her purse and digging through it for her wallet. She found it, extracted her driver’s license, and put it on the glass-topped counter, sliding it toward the other woman.
“Ma’am, I can only give you all but twenty-five dollars of your balance, would you like me to do that?”
Chrissy felt her stomach clench and tried to tell herself she was overreacting. “I have about five thousand dollars. Six hundred shouldn’t be a problem.”
The woman looked concerned. “Your balance is one hundred fifty-three dollars and eighteen cents.”
Chrissy froze and leaned forward. “One hundred fifty-three dollars?” she said, her body heating up with fear. “I had almost five thousand dollars in that account when I logged in on Saturday.”
The girl shrugged and turned the screen to face Chrissy. She immediately scanned the numbers. Her heart leapt into her throat. There were two withdrawals for $2400 each, both of them made earlier today. Her chest was tight and when she spoke her voice was too loud. “This wasn’t me.”
“Um, all I know is what the computer shows me. You can talk to our manager if you’d like.” Chrissy followed the teller’s eyes and saw the words Bank Manager on the door of an office. In sixteen strides she was at the office. She opened the door and walked in unannounced. Her head was spinning. Not this—after everything that’s happened—not this, too.
“Someone has made unauthorized withdrawals from my account,” she said to the hefty man behind the desk, her voice wavering. “And you need to fix it.”
Chapter 34
Yes, I need to file a fraud report,” Chressaidia said when she reached the desk of the San Diego police department. Eduardo had told her that fraud cases stayed in the precinct where they were filed—not automatically added to the national database where a report could be connected to her arrest that had taken place farther north. Even with such assurance, however, she could hardly believe she was here.
When Eduardo had suggested she file the report, she’d wondered if he was setting her up, but he’d explained the reasons and it made sense. Making a record of the fraud on her own would throw up major roadblocks should the real Chressaidia try the same thing. If she was staying a long time, or trying to establish permanency it could be a disastrous move, but she only needed a few more weeks and that meant this might be exactly what she needed.
“Someone is falsely using my identity.”
“Take a seat,” the Polynesian woman said, indicating a row of orange chairs.
Chressaidia did as she was told, trying to appear relaxed, but not too relaxed. She was pretending to have had her identity stolen, and that would be upsetting to anyone. She sat there for almost twenty minutes before a desk-cop came over and asked her to follow him. She slid into the chair next to his desk and he fumbled for some paperwork.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Someone’s stolen my identity,” Chressaidia said. “I’ve already filed notice with the three credit bureaus, and I’ve got this.” She produced a forged fraud report from one of the credit cards that had been opened in Chressaidia’s name. “You need this to file a criminal report, right?”
The desk sergeant, Officer Jeffers, picked up the paper. “Do you have proof you are who you say you are?”
Chressaidia nodded. She’d anticipated this, down to every detail. There was no room for error. She pulled out her driver’s license, the real Chressaidia’s birth certificate, and a utility bill in her name. She’d gone in to the utility offices that morning and brought the account up to date, asking for a printout of her current statement.
“I moved here about four months ago,” she said as he looked over the documents. “And it must have happened right after that. You can see from my credit report that most of this stuff was opened up right after I moved here.”
“It looks like you’ve got all your documentation in place. Let’s see what we can put together.”
Chressaidia smiled, glad she had cleared this first obstacle. Being polite and personable was not one of her greater gifts. It hadn’t served much purpose in her life so far, but since realizing the real Chressaidia was on to her, she’d had to dig deep.
“Um, do you need to take my prints or anything?” This was the part she’d feared the most. If they took prints and for some reason compared them to those taken when she had been booked last month, she’d be in trouble. Eduardo had assured her this wouldn’t happen at this point, especially not in an area as busy as San Diego—they didn’t have time to process each fraud complaint in such detail.
“Not yet,” Officer Jeffers said. “We’ll need them later for exclusion when we get closer to the adjudication date.”
Chressaidia didn’t know what adjudication meant, but at least they weren’t taking her prints. She needed all the time she could get. Now that she wasn’t so on edge, she hoped this wouldn’t take too long. She’d made two transfers from the original Chressadia’s account that morning, then transferred them to three other online accounts, which she now needed to empty—and empty fast—in cas
e the bank came looking for the money too soon.
“I’ll need you to fill out these forms,” Officer Jeffers said, pushing some papers toward her. “Then we’ll get it in the computer.”
Chressaidia took the papers and began filling in the “Name” field. So far, so good.
Chapter 35
Chrissy sat in her car outside the bank and stared ahead. She had insisted on closing her account and the $153.18 was now in her wallet, but the discouragement was overwhelming. Never in her life had she felt so vulnerable, so cheated, and she knew it wasn’t over yet. Somewhere, someone was unraveling her life thread by thread and she couldn’t seem to stop it. It was surreal to think that just this morning, perhaps at the exact time Chrissy was attempting to file a police report, someone else was cleaning out her account, not taking a credit card company’s money this time, but taking her own. She’d spent three years saving that money and now it was gone.
And she didn’t know what to do next.
She had pages of notes and a whole list of people to call, but then what? The bank said an investigator would call her sometime that week, that the money would be refunded based on what they discovered. She liked to think the right thing would happen, but the last few days had been such a whirlwind she didn’t know what to think, who to trust, how to keep from feeling beaten down.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat, praying. What was she supposed to do?
No answers came and she continued to sit there for several minutes, waiting for inspiration, for direction, for understanding. Was that so much to ask? Finally she opened her eyes, blinking at the brightness of the day. Then she picked up her cell phone and dialed the number Amanda had given her.
Her Good Name Page 11
