Chapter 10 - THE WOMAN AT THE BANK
The lender’s fraud department contacted me in October.
A woman named Teresa Shaw asked me to come in with identification.
Rachel attended.
The meeting took place in a conference room at the bank’s regional office.
Teresa placed the closing documents on the table.
“Mrs. Mercer, I need you to look at each signature.”
I did.
“Not mine.”
Another page.
“Not mine.”
Another.
“Not mine.”
She showed me a photocopy of my driver’s license.
“That is mine.”
Then another document appeared.
A notarized acknowledgment.
The notary’s name was Patricia Klein.
“Do you know her?” Teresa asked.
“No.”
“Have you ever met her?”
“Not that I remember.”
Teresa exchanged a glance with Rachel.
“We interviewed Ms. Klein.”
My heart began pounding.
“And?”
“She remembers the transaction.”
I waited.
“She remembers Mr. Mercer.”
My hands tightened.
“And me?”
Teresa paused.
“She initially stated that both borrowers were present.”
“Initially?”
Rachel’s voice sharpened.
Teresa nodded.
“When we showed her your employment records, she changed her statement.”
The room became completely still.
“What did she say?”
“She said Mr. Mercer arrived with another woman.”
My mouth went dry.
“Who?”
“She believed the woman was his wife.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“Description?”
Teresa opened a folder.
“Approximately mid-fifties.”
I closed my eyes.
Linda was fifty-four in February.
Teresa continued.
“Blond-gray hair.”
“About five foot five.”
“White woman.”
“She presented identification?”
“A photocopy was already in the file.”
My license.
A woman could have sat there while someone looked at a copy of my identification.
“Did Patricia Klein check the actual ID?”
Teresa’s expression answered before she spoke.
“She admits she did not properly verify it.”
Rachel asked the next question.
“Has Ms. Klein identified Linda Mercer?”
“We showed her a photo array.”
My heart pounded in my ears.
“And?”
“She selected Mrs. Mercer.”
“Linda?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
I stared at the table.
All the explanations collapsed into one image.
Mark entering a bank.
Linda beside him.
My copied driver’s license in a folder.
My name waiting on documents.
The woman who had ordered twenty dishes for her birthday had apparently gone much further than taking money.
She had taken my identity into a bank.
Teresa spoke carefully.
“The bank has referred the matter for further investigation.”
I barely heard her.
Rachel touched my arm.
“Anna.”
I looked at her.
“Stay with me.”
I nodded.
Teresa continued.
“We are not asking you to make conclusions today.”
“We are documenting your statement.”
She asked where I had been on February 12.
I provided work records.
She asked whether I ever authorized Linda to act on my behalf.
“No.”
She asked whether I gave Mark permission to sign documents for me.
“No.”
She asked whether I knew the funds were being borrowed.
“No.”
She asked whether I benefited from the money.
“No.”
The answers became a rhythm.
No.
No.
No.
For years, that word had been dangerous inside my marriage.
Now it was evidence.
After the meeting, Rachel and I stood outside near the parking garage.
Cold wind moved between the buildings.
“What happens to them?” I asked.
“I cannot predict that.”
“Could there be criminal charges?”
“Possibly.”
“Against Mark?”
“Possibly.”
“Linda?”
“Possibly.”
I looked across the street.
“I don’t feel happy.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I thought if I ever proved everything, I would feel powerful.”
Rachel adjusted her coat.
“Proof does not erase betrayal.”
That was true.
Truth was not a celebration.
Sometimes truth was simply the moment confusion ended.
My phone buzzed.
Melissa.
I answered.
“Hey.”
Her voice was shaking.
“Anna.”
“What happened?”
“Mom called me.”
I stopped walking.
“What did she say?”
“She knows the bank talked to the notary.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does she want?”
“She wants me to tell everyone she was only helping Mark.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did she say she was at the bank?”
Melissa became quiet.
Then she whispered.
“Yes.”
I looked at Rachel.
She immediately understood from my face.
“What exactly did Linda say?” I asked.
Melissa took a breath.
“She said Mark couldn’t get the loan without you.”
My whole body went cold.
“And then?”
“She said you would have refused because you’re controlling about money.”
The irony was so enormous I almost laughed.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“She said, ‘I only sat there because Mark needed me to.’”
I closed my eyes.
Rachel held out a hand.
I put the phone on speaker.
“Melissa,” Rachel said.
“This is Rachel Bennett.”
“I know.”
“I need you to write down exactly what your mother said.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
“Do not improve it.”
“Do not summarize it.”
“Use her exact words as closely as you remember.”
Melissa began writing.
Then she said something none of us expected.
“There was someone else who knew.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Uncle David.”
May you like
“Why?”
“He drove Mom to the bank.”
