Chapter 4: The Credit Line Nobody Knew About
For several seconds, Dad didn't speak.
The bank representative waited patiently on the other end of the call, while the dealership's showroom lights reflected across his face. I could hear the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant clatter of a printer behind Daniel's office door.
Then Dad said, "An application for a line of credit?""
"Yes, Mr. Collins. Our records indicate that a credit facility was opened using your personal information approximately five months ago. The application passed our initial verification process.""
"How much?""
"The approved limit was fifty thousand dollars.""
Dad gripped the edge of the desk.
"Fifty thousand?""
"That's correct.""
"Who applied for it?""
"The application was submitted electronically under your name.""
"Did I sign it?""
"There's an electronic signature on file.""
"I didn't apply for it. I didn't sign anything.""
The representative's tone changed immediately.
"Thank you for clarifying that. I'll mark the account as potentially fraudulent and refer it for urgent review. Before we proceed, have you ever authorized another person to apply for credit on your behalf?""
"No.""
"Has anyone had access to your personal identification documents, email accounts, or banking credentials?""
Dad looked at me.
I knew exactly what he was thinking.
Monica had access to the filing cabinet in their bedroom. She knew where he kept his tax returns. She had helped him organize his insurance policies and scanned documents for him whenever he complained about paperwork.
And she'd been doing all of it for months.
"Someone in my household may have had access to some of my documents," Dad finally answered.
"But I never gave that person permission to open credit in my name.""
"I understand. I'll make a note of that.""
Dad gave the representative the information she requested. By the time the call ended, the bank had placed restrictions on the disputed profile and started an investigation.
But we still had no answers about the earlier transactions.
I sat beside Dad in the dealership office while he studied the documents again.
"How could someone do all this?"" I whispered.
He rubbed his forehead.
"I don't know.""
"Do you think Monica opened the credit line?""
He looked at the audit record on my phone.
"I think the evidence needs to be investigated before I accuse anyone of a crime.""
"She sold my car without permission. She used your account. Her tablet was used to create the profile.""
"I know.""
"And now there's a fifty-thousand-dollar credit line?""
His jaw tightened.
"I know, Emma.""
He wasn't angry with me. I could hear that.
He was trying to hold on to the last fragments of a life he'd thought he understood.
Daniel returned with another envelope.
"Mr. Collins, our compliance team has reviewed the initial transaction records. We've also located an internal note attached to the vehicle purchase.""
Dad looked up.
"What note?""
Daniel placed a printed page on the desk.
"It was added by the salesperson who handled the SUV purchase.""
Dad read it silently.
Then he slid it toward me.
The note said that the buyer had requested the purchase be completed through a preexisting customer profile, with payment arranged in advance. It also stated that the buyer had assured the dealership the account holder was her husband and had already approved the transaction.
At the bottom was the salesperson's name and a time stamp.
I looked at Dad.
"She told them you approved it.""
"Apparently.""
"Did she show them anything proving that?""
Daniel answered before Dad could.
"She provided an electronic authorization, which is currently under review. The salesperson believed the documentation was legitimate.""
Dad tapped the paper.
"Then I want to speak to that salesperson.""
"She's with a customer right now. I can ask her to contact you.""
"Please do.""
As Daniel left the office, my phone buzzed again.
This time, it was Monica.
*Where are you and your father? You need to come home immediately.*
I didn't respond.
A second message appeared.
*You are making a private family matter public. Think about what this could do to Kayla's future.*
I stared at the screen.
Not one word about my car.
Not one apology.
Not even a question about why her husband was suddenly investigating unauthorized transactions.
Only Kayla's future.
I showed Dad the messages.
He read them twice.
"Don't answer her yet," he said.
"Why?""
"Because I want to understand why she's so concerned about what we're doing before she even knows what we've found.""
He took a photograph of the messages and added them to the folder on his phone.
Then Daniel returned with a woman in her thirties wearing a dealership badge.
"Mr. Collins, this is Rachel. She handled the paperwork for your wife's transaction.""
Rachel looked nervous.
"Hello, Mr. Collins. I'm sorry there's been a concern about the purchase.""
Dad gestured toward the chair.
"Please sit down. I have a few questions.""
She sat.
"Did my wife tell you that I personally authorized the payment for the SUV?""
Rachel nodded.
"She said you'd arranged the financing and that the payment was already approved.""
"Did you speak to me?""
"No.""
"Did you call my phone number?""
"No.""
"Did you send an authorization request to my email?""
Rachel glanced at Daniel.
"No, sir. The transaction was linked to an existing purchasing profile.""
Dad leaned forward.
"Who created that profile?""
Rachel folded her hands.
"I wasn't involved in its creation. I only received the transaction after the system showed the profile was verified.""
"Did my wife tell you she was selling my daughter's car to help pay for the SUV?""
Rachel hesitated.
"She mentioned that a family vehicle was being traded in.""
"It wasn't a family vehicle. It belonged to my daughter.""
"I'm sorry. I didn't know that.""
Dad studied her face.
"Did she ask you to keep the transaction confidential?""
Rachel's eyes flicked toward Daniel.
Then she nodded.
"She asked whether the paperwork could be completed without contacting the account holder because you were traveling and didn't want to be disturbed.""
Dad sat back.
I watched something break in his expression.
He had spent the previous spring traveling between Columbus and Cleveland to help his older brother recover from surgery. During that period, Monica had insisted she could manage everything at home.
She'd called him every night, telling him how much she missed him.
He'd believed her.
"Did she explain why the account holder's consent couldn't be verified directly?"" Dad asked.
"She said you had already approved the arrangement.""
"Did you believe her?""
Rachel looked down.
"At the time, yes.""
Dad nodded slowly.
"Thank you for answering my questions. Please preserve every record associated with that transaction.""
"I will.""
When she left, I noticed Dad's hands trembling.
"Are you okay?"" I asked.
He stared at the documents.
"Your mother died twelve years ago," he said suddenly.
I blinked.
"I know.""
"After she died, I promised myself I'd never let anyone make you feel like you didn't belong in your own home.""
My throat tightened.
" Dad—"
"I thought Monica understood that. I thought she cared about you.""
He stopped speaking.
I reached for his hand.
"Maybe she did once.""
He looked at me, and I wished I hadn't said it.
Because I knew what he was thinking.
If Monica had once cared about me, when had that stopped being enough to prevent her from taking something I'd worked for?
Dad's phone rang.
It was the bank's fraud department again.
He answered immediately.
"Mr. Collins," the representative said, "we've completed a preliminary review of the linked credit account. I need to advise you that the credit facility has already been used.""
Dad went rigid.
"How much?""
"Forty-seven thousand three hundred dollars has been drawn against the fifty-thousand-dollar limit.""
My mouth went dry.
"Where did the money go?"" Dad asked.
"The initial review shows transfers to multiple external accounts. We'll need additional time to establish the ultimate recipients.""
"Can you tell me the dates?""
The representative read them out.
The earliest transfer had occurred five months ago.
The most recent had occurred only nine days earlier.
Dad closed his eyes.
"Nine days ago," he repeated.
That was the day Monica had told him she was taking Kayla shopping for graduation clothes.
I remembered because Monica had complained that the stores were crowded and she'd been gone for almost six hours.
When she'd returned, she'd carried several shopping bags and a new handbag.
I'd thought nothing of it.
Now every ordinary memory seemed to have acquired a shadow.
Dad asked the representative to send the available records to his secure email. He ended the call and sat motionless.
Then my phone vibrated with another message from the unknown number.
*The credit line is only part of it. Ask Monica what happened to the inheritance account.*
I read it aloud.
Dad turned toward me so quickly that his chair scraped across the floor.
"What inheritance account?""
I looked at him.
"You tell me.""
He stared at the message for several seconds.
Then he whispered, "Your grandmother's money.""
And for the first time since we'd entered the dealership, my father looked truly frightened.
Because my grandmother had left money for me.
May you like
Money she'd specifically instructed him to protect until I was ready to buy my own home.
And Dad had believed that money was safe.
