Chương 8
Then email.
Then banking.
Then cloud storage.
Then the mortgage portal.
I worked methodically, using a fresh password manager and turning on authentication wherever it was available.
Halfway through, I realized my hands had started shaking.
Megan quietly moved my coffee mug away from the keyboard before I could knock it over.
“I’m fine.”
“Didn’t ask.”
I kept typing.
My personal banking login showed no unfamiliar transactions.
My credit report showed no new accounts.
The mortgage balance was exactly what I expected.
For the first time in hours, my body loosened slightly.
Then an email arrived from Elena.
Subject: Security Review.
There were no details, only a request that I call the internal fraud desk from a verified number.
I did.
A man named Curtis answered and asked me to confirm several identity questions.
His voice was calm and detached.
I was grateful for that.
He explained that the preliminary audit had found two failed attempts to access an internal employee self-service page using my employee number.
The attempts came from outside the bank network.
“Can you tell where?”
“Not yet.”
“When?”
“One was yesterday afternoon.”
“And the other?”
“Early this morning.”
I looked at the clock on my laptop.
“Before seven?”
“Yes.”
Brenda had been at David’s apartment by then.
So had I, eventually.
But that did not tell me who had tried.
“Was anything accessed?”
“Not according to what we can see.”
“What were they trying to reach?”
“Payroll information.”
My stomach tightened again.
“Direct deposit?”
“Possibly.”
Megan had stopped eating.
She was watching my face.
Curtis continued.
“We’ve frozen changes to your employee payment instructions until we verify them manually.”
“Good.”
“Your manager also asked us to review whether any internal staff accessed your customer profile without business need.”
I sat straighter.
“Did they?”
“We’re still reviewing.”
The words still reviewing felt endless.
“When will I know?”
“I can’t give you a specific time.”
“Okay.”
“What I can tell you is that your employee credentials were not used successfully.”
“That helps.”
“Do you have reason to believe anyone has copies of your identity documents?”
I looked at the empty ceramic bowl.
“Yes.”
I told him about the missing flash drive.
His tone changed slightly.
Not alarm.
Attention.
“Does the drive contain unencrypted files?”
“Yes.”
“Social Security number?”
“On the tax returns.”
“Date of birth?”
“Yes.”
“Signature samples?”
“Mortgage documents.”
Megan whispered a curse.
Curtis said, “I strongly recommend placing fraud alerts with the credit bureaus and considering a credit freeze.”
“I’ll do that.”
“If you believe the drive was stolen, you should document that separately.”
“I’m going to.”
“We can note it in our investigation, but the bank can’t investigate theft from your home.”
“I understand.”
After I ended the call, Megan pointed at my phone.
“Now police.”
I stared at the screen.
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“This isn’t easy for me.”
Her expression softened.
“I know.”
“No, I mean professionally.”
She waited.
“I spend all day telling people not to assume fraud until we have evidence.”
“You have evidence.”
“I have suspicious behavior.”
“You have a missing drive.”
“I don’t know when it disappeared.”
“You have unauthorized access attempts.”
“I don’t know who made them.”
“You have a secret entry code.”
“I don’t know who used it.”
“You have Brenda asking bank employees questions about your account.”
“That isn’t illegal by itself.”
Megan slapped both palms lightly against her thighs.
“Rachel, you are doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you make the burden of proof so impossible that no one ever has to admit they hurt you.”
I stared at her.
She looked away first.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“You’re already having the worst day of your life.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”
She sat on the edge of my desk.
I looked at the rows of folders.
Everything in the condo suddenly seemed vulnerable because it had once seemed ordinary.
“I don’t want to accuse David of stealing from me if he didn’t.”
“Then don’t.”
“What?”
“Report what actually happened.”
I looked at her.
“You don’t have to solve it for them.”
The sentence landed with embarrassing force.
My throat tightened.
“I hate that you’re making sense.”
“I hate it too.”
I picked up my phone.
Before I could dial, it rang.
Mom.
This time I answered.
“Hi.”
There was no greeting.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Physically?”
“Yes.”
Her voice wavered.
“What happened?”
I looked at Megan.
She gave me a small nod.
“David’s mother tried to get access to my personal bank account.”
Mom was silent.
I continued.
“She had documents prepared without my permission.”
“What kind of documents?”
“A bank authorization form.”
“And?”
“A power of attorney.”
Another silence.
“Rachel.”
“I didn’t sign anything.”
“Where is David?”
“Not here.”
“What did he do?”
I looked down at my bare left hand.
“He knew about some of it.”
“Some?”
“I don’t know exactly how much yet.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Then why did Megan say building security was involved?”
I inhaled.
“He blocked the apartment door when I tried to leave.”
Mom made a small sound.
Not a gasp.
More like air leaving her chest.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was Brenda there?”
“Yes.”
“What did she do?”
“She told him not to let me leave.”
The silence this time lasted so long I checked the phone.
“Mom?”
“I’m here.”
Her voice was different.
Flat.
Controlled.
I recognized it from childhood, usually right before she dealt with something serious.
“Your father and I are coming over.”
“No.”
“We are.”
“I don’t want everyone here.”
“Rachel, I am not asking.”
“Mom.”
“You can be thirty-six years old and financially independent and still let your mother sit in your living room.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
It came out cracked.
“Fine.”
“We’ll bring lunch.”
“Megan brought bagels.”
“Bagels are not lunch.”
The call ended before I could answer.
Megan smiled.
“She’s definitely bringing soup.”
“Probably three kinds.”
May you like
“Your mother processes crisis through sodium.”
I opened the police department’s non-emergency number on my phone.
