Chương 9
"Good."
Chris looked at me.
"Family unity."
Emily sat at the table.
"Can I have cereal?"
Chris reached for the box.
"What kind?"
She pointed to the one he had brought.
"That one."
He poured too much into the bowl.
She looked at him.
"That's a lot."
"I panic under pressure."
For the first time since I found her, Emily laughed.
It was small and startled, as if she had not expected the sound to come out of her.
Chris looked at me and then quickly away.
I went to the sink under the excuse of rinsing a clean spoon.
My phone rang.
Martinez.
I stepped into the living room.
"We need you to come in."
"When?"
"As soon as you can."
"Did you find Sarah?"
"No."
"Jason?"
"No."
"What happened?"
"Someone attempted to use your name to access a line of credit at six twenty-three this morning."
The room went cold.
"Where?"
"Online."
"From where?"
"We're working on that."
"Was it successful?"
"No."
"How do you know?"
"The lender flagged it."
"Why?"
"Information mismatch."
I looked at Chris.
He was pretending not to listen while placing a banana beside Emily's cereal bowl.
"What information?"
"We can discuss that here."
"I'm not leaving Emily."
"Bring her with you."
"To the station?"
"We can arrange for the advocate to stay with her."
I hated the idea.
But I hated not knowing more.
"Give me thirty minutes."
"Take the time you need to travel safely."
That sounded so unlike Martinez that I nearly laughed.
Chris drove.
I sat in the back with Emily because she asked me to.
On the way, she counted red cars.
There were eleven.
Chris missed a turn.
I criticized him.
He told me my directions were terrible.
For three minutes, our family behaved almost normally.
Then we reached the station.
Martinez met us in a plain interview room with beige walls, a bolted table, and two plastic chairs.
Chris stayed with Emily and the advocate in another room.
I noticed immediately that someone else was waiting with Martinez.
A woman in a navy suit stood when I entered.
"Mr. Carter, I'm Special Agent Leah Monroe."
I looked at Martinez.
"Special agent?"
"Financial Crimes Task Force."
Monroe shook my hand.
Her grip was ordinary.
I appreciated that.
She placed a folder on the table.
Not orange.
Gray.
"We're looking at several connected applications."
"Using my name?"
"At least two."
"At least?"
"We have not completed the review."
She sat.
"So far, we have one loan application recovered from the pool, one attempted line-of-credit application this morning, and one business filing from six months ago listing you as an authorized guarantor."
My mouth went dry.
"Guarantor for what?"
"Redwood Meridian LLC."
I stared at her.
"I have never heard of that company before yesterday."
"I believe that's what you told Officer Martinez."
"Because it's true."
Monroe opened the folder.
She slid a photocopy across the table.
My name appeared in black print.
Below it was my old address.
My date of birth.
The last four digits of my Social Security number.
Then a signature.
It looked enough like mine to make my stomach turn.
"That's not my signature."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
She studied me.
"Would you be willing to provide exemplars?"
"Absolutely."
Martinez leaned against the wall.
"There's more."
Monroe turned another page.
"Your driver's license image was attached to one application."
"I know how he could have gotten it."
"We heard."
"Sarah had a copy."
"Potentially."
"She did."
Monroe did not argue.
She slid another sheet toward me.
This one contained a photograph.
It showed a man entering a bank lobby.
Baseball cap.
Dark jacket.
Face partially turned.
For a second, I thought I was looking at Jason.
Then I leaned closer.
The man was taller.
Thinner.
"That's not him."
Monroe watched me carefully.
"You recognize the person?"
"No."
"Take another look."
I did.
Something about the shoulders bothered me.
Then the man turned slightly in the photograph and I saw the left side of his face.
A scar near the jaw.
My stomach dropped.
"I know him."
Martinez straightened.
"Who?"
I kept staring at the picture.
"His name is Eric Voss."
Monroe's pen stopped moving.
"How do you know Eric Voss?"
"He worked with me."
"When?"
"Four years ago."
"What happened?"
"I got him fired."
Silence settled over the room.
"For what?" Monroe asked.
"Stealing customer card numbers."
Martinez swore softly.
I looked at both of them.
"Why is he using my identity?"
Monroe closed the folder halfway.
"We don't know."
I thought of Jason.
Of the lake cabin.
Of the license photo.
Of Sarah gathering documents.
Of a company whose name meant nothing to me.
"Does Jason know him?"
"We're investigating that."
I rubbed my temples.
"Is Eric involved with Redwood?"
Monroe looked at Martinez.
That glance told me the answer before she spoke.
"Not officially."
"Unofficially?"
"We recovered communications between a number associated with Eric Voss and a prepaid phone we believe Jason used."
My chair scraped backward.
"You knew they were connected."
"We confirmed the connection this morning."
"What were they talking about?"
"Money."
"How much?"
"Enough to suggest Redwood Meridian was not created for legitimate business."
I stood.
Monroe did not tell me to sit down.
"Sarah found this."
"Part of it."
"And Jason knew she found it."
"Likely."
"And then she disappeared."
Martinez's voice was quiet.
"Yes."
I looked through the narrow window in the door.
Emily was visible across the hall, sitting beside Chris and drawing on a clipboard.
"She mentioned an orange folder last night."
Both investigators looked at me.
Monroe spoke first.
"What orange folder?"
"I don't know."
"Where is it?"
"I don't know."
"Did Emily say?"
"She fell asleep."
Martinez closed his eyes briefly.
"I told you not to question her."
"I didn't."
"How did it come up?"
"She volunteered it."
He waited.
I repeated her exact words.
Mom said if something happened, I should tell you about the orange folder.
May you like
Monroe looked toward the hallway.
"Did Sarah keep files at home?"
