Chapter 8 - Three More Accounts
The first was a store card opened eight months earlier.
Balance: $3,412.
The second was a travel rewards card.
Balance: $7,980.
The third was worse.
A line of credit opened in my name six weeks earlier.
Limit: $25,000.
Current balance: $24,700.
I stared at the screen until the numbers blurred.
My total exposure was now more than eighty thousand dollars.
I called each lender.
The travel card had been mailed to my parents' address.
The store card had been used mostly for furniture.
The line of credit had funded three transfers.
One went to a catering company from Jason's wedding.
One went to a jeweler.
One went directly to my father.
I called him.
This time, I recorded the call after checking my state's consent rule with the legal aid hotline Maya had given me.
"Why did twenty-five thousand dollars move through a credit line in my name?"
Dad sounded exhausted.
"Because we were fixing things."
"What things?"
"The wedding got expensive. Jason made commitments. Your mother made commitments. I covered them."
"With debt in my name."
"It was temporary."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
"Then why didn't you ask me?"
He snapped, "Because you always say no now."
I went still.
There it was.
Not an accident.
Not confusion.
They knew my answer, so they removed my right to give it.
"How many accounts?" I asked.
Silence.
"Dad, how many?"
"I don't know."
"That's a lie."
"Claire—"
"How many accounts did you or Mom open using my information?"
His breathing became louder.
"Your mother handled most of the applications."
"Most?"
"Don't twist my words."
"You just admitted there were enough applications for there to be a most."
He hung up.
Two minutes later, Mom called.
"You recorded your father, didn't you?"
That stopped me.
"How would you know that?"
"Because you're vindictive."
"No. How would you know what we just talked about?"
A beat.
Then I understood.
They were together.
Planning.
Coordinating.
Mom said, "You need to come home so we can settle this privately."
"I'm not leaving Layla."
"Then Jason will come to you."
I looked toward the ICU door.
"He already tried."
May you like
Mom's voice dropped.
"Next time, he won't ask security."
