Chapter 2 - The Paperwork of a Predator
The heater in Caleb's apartment hummed,
but the air still felt like it was made of ice.
I sat on the sofa,
wrapped in a thick wool blanket,
staring at the laptop screen.
Caleb was in the kitchen,
making coffee,
his movements sharp and agitated.
"I checked the 911 logs,"
he said,
setting a steaming mug down on the coffee table.
"He gave them your plate number,
your exact route,
and claimed you had a loaded 9mm."
"He told them you were 'delusional' and 'suicidal'."
I took a sip of the coffee,
but I couldn't taste it.
"He wanted them to shoot me,
Caleb."
"Or he wanted me so broken that I’d sign anything he put in front of me."
I opened my laptop and navigated to the credit monitoring service I used.
Earlier that evening,
I had seen a strange alert,
but I had been too busy to check it.
As the page loaded,
my blood literally turned to sludge.
The list of accounts was endless.
"Caleb,
look at this,"
I whispered.
He leaned over my shoulder,
his breath hitching.
There were three massive business loans,
all taken out within the last eighteen months.
One for fifty thousand,
another for eighty,
and a final,
monstrous line of credit for nearly two hundred thousand dollars.
Every single one of them was in my name.
The social security number was mine,
the address was my old childhood home,
but the signature on the digital applications was a mystery.
"These are shadow syndicates,"
Caleb said,
his finger tracing the name of the lenders.
"High-interest,
unregulated firms that specialize in high-risk debt."
"The total is over three hundred thousand dollars,
Emma."
"He didn't just want the fifteen thousand for his debt,"
I realized.
"The fifteen thousand was just the interest payment he missed."
"He’s been living off my identity for years."
Just as the realization settled,
my phone vibrated on the table.
The caller ID showed 'Dad'.
Caleb reached out and hit the speakerphone button,
simultaneously starting a recording app on his own phone.
"Emma,"
my father’s voice came through,
sounding chillingly calm.
"I heard there was a little excitement on the highway tonight."
"I hope you're okay,
sweetheart."
"You tried to kill me,"
I said,
my voice flat.
"I tried to show you that choices have consequences,"
he replied,
and I could hear the smirk in his tone.
"You have thirty-six hours before the collectors lose their patience."
"Send the fifteen thousand tonight,"
"and I can tell the police that the 911 call was just a big,
unfortunate misunderstanding."
"I can make the 'armed and dangerous' report go away."
"And the loans,
Dad?"
I asked.
"The three hundred thousand dollars you stole?"
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"I don't know what you're talking about,"
he said,
his voice dropping into a low,
menacing growl.
"But if you don't play along,
you'll find that your life is a very difficult thing to maintain."
"I have proof you signed for those loans,
Emma."
"I have the paperwork,
properly notarized."
"Don't make this harder than it has to be."
He hung up,
and the dial tone sounded like a heart monitor flatlining.
Caleb looked at me,
his face pale with fury.
"A notary?"
he asked.
"If he has a notarized document,
that’s high-level fraud."
"It means he has someone on the inside."
I looked at the credit report again,
at the dates of the loans.
The oldest one was from four years ago,
a time when I was barely out of college.
I stood up,
the blanket falling to the floor.
"He thinks he’s so smart,"
I said,
walking toward my bag.
"He thinks he covered every track."
"But he forgot one thing about four years ago."
"He forgot where I was."
I reached into the hidden pocket of my purse and felt the edges of a small,
blue book.
I didn't pull it out yet.
I wanted to save it for the moment he felt the most powerful.
"What is it?"
Caleb asked.
May you like
"It’s justice,"
I said.
