“You have a copy of your father’s citizenship papers?”
“I’m Mexican. It’s a good thing to have on hand—proves I’m legal. Turns out this chick filed a fraud report in San Diego and then filed complaints with the creditors, which has made this huge mess all the messier. Oh, and she bought a gun in my name. Can you believe that? A two-shot pistol.”
Chrissy caught movement out of the corner of her eye and looked over to see a teenage girl looking at her. She had yet to be formally introduced to Mallory and finally realized she was the girl at the water fight at Amanda’s house several weeks ago. “Oh, hi. It’s Mallory, right?”
Mallory nodded, but regarded Chrissy in a stiff, polite way. “Hi,” she said evenly, not meeting Chrissy’s eyes.
Chrissy noticed a jar of nail polish on the coffee table and thought maybe she could open a dialogue. Mallory had been a pretty easygoing kid when they’d met at Amanda’s. In fact, Mallory had dumped a bucket of water over Chrissy’s head. “You doin’ nails today?”
Mallory looked up at her, confused, and Chrissy pointed to the polish. “Is that yours?”
“Yeah.”
Another one-word answer. Chrissy was trying to think of something else to say when Mallory looked at her dad, then at Chrissy. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but enough that Chrissy’s next comment died before it reached her lips.
“So,” Micah said after a few awkward moments. “Should we take a look at your statements?”
“Oh, right,” Chrissy said, turning toward him. She glanced once more at Mallory, who continued to regard her with a cold look. Chrissy tried not to dwell on it and smiled at her.
“This is great work,” Micah said, scanning the top page before flipping it to the back. “We can go back to the office.”
Chrissy nodded and followed him down the hall, taking in the tack strips lined up along the edges of the sub-flooring. Peeking into the bedrooms, it seemed they had met the same floor-stripping fate.
“New carpet?” she asked, anxious to get away from Mallory’s less than warm welcome.
“Tomorrow morning,” Micah said. “I found a remnant that will cover the hallway and two bedrooms, but not the living room, so I’m thinking of doing laminate there instead.” As the last word left his mouth, he stopped in the middle of the hallway, a fact Chrissy didn’t notice until she ran right into the back of him. He was completely solid so she bounced backward and caught herself on the wall. She apologized and looked up at him, wondering what had caused him to stop in the first place. His eyebrows were pulled together under the brim of his hat as he stared at the paper in his hand.
“What?” she said, stepping forward until she could see what he was looking at . . . and smell his cologne. She took a deep breath and forgot for a minute what they were doing. Their arms touched briefly, and it felt strangely intimate.
“Compuline,” Micah said.
Chrissy was brought back to earth. She looked at the paper. There were a few different purchases made from a company with that name on the statement.
His eyes moved farther up the page. “And it’s a Providian account.”
“And?” Chrissy said, waiting for the punch line.
Micah turned his head so he could look at her. “One of the cards opened in my name was a Providian card, and they also made several purchases from Compuline. It’s an online company that sells laptop computers. I think they resell them on eBay or someplace like that.”
“That’s weird,” Chrissy said slowly. “What are the chances we’d both have the same card with purchases from the same company?”
“Pretty high if the same person took both our IDs.” He started moving again and was soon in the study, Chrissy right behind him.
She put her purse on one of the chairs and walked to the desk where he had just sat down, toggling through his computer. He also pulled open a drawer and fished through a file, finally pulling out a paper that looked a lot like Chrissy’s statement.
“Look at this,” he said, moving over so she could join him at the desk. “Both our cards were opened within a week of one another. And the purchases are really close, too—these ones were made on the exact same day.” He pointed to the address. “Different addresses, but both of them in San Diego. The same place where the fraud report was filed, right?”
“But what are the chances of the same person getting our information at the same time?” Chrissy asked, trying to catch up with his thought process as she leaned over his shoulder so she could see what he was doing . . . and smell him some more.
“I don’t know,” Micah said slowly. Then he paused and turned in his chair so he was looking up at her. “That date we went on, at that café—what did you use to pay for your dinner?”
Chrissy searched her brain. “My debit card,” she finally said as the evening and all its splendor came back to her. “I’m really sorry about leaving like I did that night, by the way. I never told you about that. See, I had just—”
“Did the gal take it to the back?”
“She said the front machine was broken.”
“Did she take your license back with her as well?”
Chrissy skewed up her face and thought about it. “I don’t know . . . wait.” She remembered the girl had asked for it. “Yeah, she did.”
Micah slapped the desk and met her gaze with a triumphant, yet angry, look on his face. “That’s it.”
“What?”
“They got our cards and copies of our license numbers that night,” Micah said. He put his hands on the sides of his head and leaned back as if he were holding in his excitement. “I’ve been racking my brain for months to figure out when it could have happened. That girl made copies and either used them or sold them.” He shook his head and then laughed. “That’s when it happened!”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You and I are very different people, right?”
Chrissy nodded. “Right.”
“And both of our thefts occurred after that night, right?”
“Right, but the thefts are so different. You didn’t have a fraction of the amount of money stolen that I did.”
“That’s true, but there are still a lot of similarities.”
“Sounds like a long shot,” Chrissy said. “You said yourself this is the fastest-growing crime in America. Maybe we just get gas at the same station.”
“I have a Chevron card and it’s all I use for gas—Techron, ya know.”
“Well, then the grocery store. I usually go to Albertsons or the Mexican markets.”
“Never go there,” Micah said, shaking his head. “I’ve got my Fresh Values card linked to the kids’ schools at Smith’s, and it’s just down the block.” He stopped and looked at her. “Why don’t you want to even consider it?”
Good question, Chrissy thought as she settled into a chair and tried to come to grips with this turn of events. “Maybe it’s just hard to accept that the evening was even worse than I thought.”
Chapter 49
Don’t you see?” Chrissy said to the cop. “We know who took our identities!” She’d caught on to Micah’s excitement by now.
“And we’ll follow-up,” the officer said. He was tall, but portly, his belly straining against the buttons of his shirt when he leaned back. “You’ve filed your report, we’ve got copies of your statement, and I’ve put a note in the report of the possible link.”
“Can’t you follow-up right now? I mean, I know that you’re really busy.” She cast a glance at Micah, who gave her an encouraging smile. He said most people, but cops especially, responded better to people they didn’t think were certifiably insane. Chrissy was scared to death being back at the police station, so that kept her on alert as well. “But we know when the theft occurred, and we know who took it. That’s got to be better than pretty much every other ID theft case around.”
“Yes, it’s wonderful,” the officer said. “And I’ve got it all here in the file.” He tapped the manila folder that
looked like the approximately 300 other manila folders stacked on his desk. Was hers going to go into the stack too? She wanted sirens and those APB things. Would a K-9 unit do any good? “I’ll give it to Detective Ross as soon as he gets back.”
“Where is he?” Chrissy asked. “Could we wait for him?”
“Uh, no,” the officer said as if she were an idiot for asking. “He’s on vacation with his family. He’ll be back next week.”
Chrissy blinked. He was on vacation? Her court date was next week, would he be back in time?
She kept smiling politely all the way out of the police station, but scowled as soon as the doors shut behind them. “Ross is on vacation and no one else cares,” she said as they headed toward Micah’s truck. “Why would they assign my case to someone who was just about to go out of town?”
It was a beautiful day, bright and sunny, and the early evening had cooled enough that the earlier heat was no longer sticking to her skin and threatening her eye makeup. If not for all the chaos in her life she’d take off her shoes, walk down to the riverbank and watch the Snake River roil and tumble in the summer sun. But instead, she barely had the energy to notice something as infinitesimally important as the weather, or the world at large. “They’re not going to do a dang thing. I can’t believe I pay taxes for this kind of service.”
“It’s not a dry cleaner,” Micah said, hurrying to open the door of the truck for her. He held out his hand so she could step onto the sidestep and slide into the passenger seat. She paused and looked at him, smiling at the chivalry.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice much softer now. He nodded and closed the door after she’d climbed in. When he slid into his seat, she asked, “What’s next?”
“Well,” Micah said as he turned the key. The truck was a diesel and the engine growled and rumbled, a perfect accompaniment to how she felt. “They had to have gotten some of your identification in order to get a mortgage.”
“Couldn’t the documents have been forged?”
“Maybe,” Micah said as he pulled out of the parking stall. “But maybe not. We know the theft originated here in Idaho Falls, wouldn’t it be worth their time to try to get an original? Besides, title companies are trained to spot fakes.”
“Even stupid online title companies that trust criminals they never even meet in person?” They turned onto the street and she realized the truck was high enough off the ground that she could look across the tops of almost every other car on the road.
Micah laughed. “Yep, even them. If they loan someone forty thousand dollars, they have to be somewhat careful.” He turned right, then half a block later he turned right again and pulled up to a large, ugly, brown building.
“Vital records,” he said, putting the car into park. “Let’s see if anyone’s requested a copy of your birth certificate lately.”
“You think they’ll tell me?” Chrissy asked as they made their way up to the front doors.
“If you’re nice.”
She gave him a dirty look. “Why do you have to make everything so hard?”
Chapter 50
It was nearly seven when Micah and Chrissy pulled up to his house. They had arrived at vital records just before closing and had only been able to leave a note for the department supervisor who’d already left for the day. “Um, do you want to come in?” Micah asked. He wasn’t sure why he was inviting her in, but after spending the afternoon with her, he was hesitant to let her leave.
Chrissy looked toward the house and her car parked in front of it, and seemed to consider it, but in the end she shook her head. “I’d better not. I need to get home. Thursday is mopping day.”
Micah tried not to be offended about losing to a mop.
“Besides, I don’t want to interfere with your time with Mallory. I’ve had your attention all day. Thanks for your help though—I couldn’t have done it without you.” She turned toward him and smiled in that way that made his stomach flip-flop again. She was wearing a lime sherbet kind of green printed top with a white skirt and silver heels. Silver! It was disconcerting the way he noticed the things she wore, even more so that he noticed the way they fit, the way the fabric moved and stretched and—
“Micah?” Chrissy asked, bringing him back to the cab of his truck and meeting her eyes. Beautiful eyes. Dark, wide, and tapered at the sides, framed by high eyebrows and smooth, mocha skin. He wondered if her face felt as soft as it looked.
“Sorry,” Micah said. “I was just thinking that . . . uh, maybe I’ll go through my other statements now that I have yours. Maybe something else will match up.”
“Good idea,” Chrissy said. “I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back for all you’re doing for me.”
“Go to dinner with me,” Micah suddenly blurted out too loud and too fast, causing Chrissy to jolt back slightly. Micah rushed on, “We could go back to that same place. Maybe ask about the gothic girl who took our cards that night. And, well, ya know, try again.”
She regarded him speculatively for what felt like a long time, and he wished he knew what she was thinking. After a few moments her lips pulled into a smile. “I would love to,” she said, almost in a whisper, holding his eyes and sending a tingle down his back. She must see something of worth in him. The idea gave him a bit of a high.
Micah grinned back, feeling like the high school kid who’d finally worked up the nerve to ask a girl to Homecoming. “Tomorrow night?”
“Perfect,” she said.
“I’ll pick you up at six-thirty?”
“I’ll be there with bells on.”
She wore bells too?
Chapter 51
Micah might have been humming when he came inside; he couldn’t be sure. Chrissy’s car made its way down the street behind him as he shut the door and headed for the kitchen. What to make for dinner? Mallory was on the phone. She didn’t respond when he came in, instead turning her back toward him, deftly replacing all Micah’s happy feelings with those of concern. He thought back to her not-so-warm welcome of Chrissy and wondered why she’d reacted that way. When he watched the water fight, Mallory had seemed to like Chrissy well enough.
“He just walked in,” Mallory said into the phone. “Here he is.”
“Who is it?” he asked quietly as he took the phone.
“Mom,” Mallory said before disappearing into her room down the hall. It was fun to have her around more often, but demanding. One more kid to keep track of, but this one didn’t have a car or many friends in the area. He’d been working from home more often, so she wasn’t entirely on her own, but he knew she wished she were somewhere else more often than not.
Micah took a breath and prepared himself. “Hello?”
“Micah?” Natalie asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
She was quiet for a few seconds, then sniffled on the other end of the line. “What time does Blake get off work tonight?”
“Eight,” Micah said. “Why?”
“I need to come over and talk to you guys. If I come at eight-thirty, will he be home?”
“Yes,” Micah said slowly. “What’s going on?” He looked down the hall. Mallory’s door was open, so he turned away and kept his voice down.
“Dennis moved out,” Natalie said, her voice shaking. “I guess he met with an attorney months ago; he’s just been waiting for the right time.” She started crying openly. “I’ve done everything I can, Micah, really—I’m a size-six for heaven’s sake! And all the while he’s just been biding his time, setting up his own accounts, sending out resumes all over the country. He’s moving to Omaha in July and leaving me with these kids all by myself. I just—I can’t believe this is happening to me again.”
Micah took a deep breath, wishing he could ignore that she was lumping him in with Dennis. Yes, he’d left, but he’d never abandoned her or the kids. The fact that she said this was “happening to her” showed that for the second time, she couldn’t see her own contribution to a failing marriage. But he knew that now wasn�
��t the right time to bring that up. “I’m really sorry, Natalie,” he said, meaning every word.
“Yeah, well maybe it’s good riddance,” she said, bitterness replacing her sorrow. “The last couple years haven’t been any fun at all.”
Since that’s why you got married—for fun, Micah thought.
Natalie continued. “I wanted to come over tonight and tell the kids. I thought it would be best to tell them together.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Micah said. “I’ll call Blake and make sure he comes right home after work.”
He hung up the phone and looked down the hall toward Mallory’s room. His stomach tightened and he shook his head, not looking forward to tonight at all.
Chapter 52
Hi, Dad.”
“Kayla,” Micah said in surprise, pulling his oldest daughter into a hug. She lived eight hours away. He hadn’t seen her since she’d come home for Christmas vacation and hadn’t expected her to be here since she’d decided to stay at her job in Utah until the study abroad program started in August. He looked over her shoulder and raised his eyebrows at Natalie, who stood behind their daughter on the front porch.
“I asked her to drive up,” she said once Kayla had gone inside. “I thought they should all be together. But she already knows.” That explained her somewhat withdrawn welcome, and Micah dreaded what was coming more than ever.
Micah nodded and waved Natalie inside. Mallory and Blake were on the couch. Kayla perched on the armrest, asking if they’d had a fun week of summer vacation and teasing Blake about having a girlfriend now that he was old enough to date. She was acting upbeat and bubbly, which had always been her style, but she fidgeted with the hem of her T-shirt.
Micah didn’t know whether he should sit or stand. For the first time he wondered if he should really be here at all. Kayla asked Blake to move over so she could sit in the middle. In the next instant Micah relived the night almost twelve years ago when five-year-old Blake and seven-year-old Kayla had looked up at their parents with scared eyes and confused expressions. Two-year-old Mallory had lived out the moment on Natalie’s hip. Micah had moved out two months before, and it had been strange to be back in the house he and Natalie had lived in.
Her Good Name Page 15
