Free Things Go Flying by Shari Lapena

“It’s not good.” He gave a nervous little cough and said, “We are really very sorry about the mortgage.”
    Audrey looked at Harold, her mind blank.
    â€œWhat mortgage?” Audrey said.
    Harold turned to Audrey. “Did you have the phone off the hook all day or what?”
    Audrey blinked. “What mortgage?”
    â€œI haven’t had a chance to fill her in,” Harold explained to the banker.
    â€œOh. Right. Well, Mrs. Walker, to put it simply, your husband has—unfortunately—been a victim of identity theft.”
    Audrey still didn’t get it. She wondered if this was somehow connected to Harold’s recent change in personality. She struggled through a fog of misapprehension to understand.
    â€œThis could happen to anyone,” the banker assured her, meaning to soothe. Meaning to exculpate himself and the bank, too. “It happens all the time. You wouldn’t believe how common this is these days.” He chuckled, gamely trying to make light of the situation, but his effort fell flat.
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” Audrey said.
    â€œWell,”—he cleared his throat again, as if girding his loins—“in a nutshell, someone has managed to obtain sufficient personal information on your husband to undertake various financial transactions in his name. It happens all the time. Usually, it’s simple credit card fraud. Someone gets enough of your personal information and applies for a credit card in your name.” As Audrey stared, appalled, he warmed to his subject. “Or, even better, they go through your blue box and pull out letters with pre-approved credit card offers. They send them in with a change of address, and start spending. Because of the change of address, you don’t get the bills, and it can go on for some time.”
    Audrey looked at Harold.
    â€œI bet you don’t shred those pre-approved credit card offers, do you?” the banker said.
    â€œWe don’t have a shredder,” Harold admitted tersely.
    â€œAnyway, you mentioned your wallet went missing. At a funeral?”
    Harold nodded.
    â€œThat’s probably what started it all. As I told you over the phone, you should never keep your social insurance number in your wallet,” the banker said. “Or your birth certificate.”
    Audrey stared at the banker, not quite getting it. “But I cancelled all his credit cards.”
    â€œI’m afraid that’s really not enough.” He looked back at Harold. “We didn’t know anything about it until you called us about the sports car problem.”
    â€œSports car problem,” Audrey echoed.
    â€œIn your case, we seem to be dealing with something quite complex. What we have here, actually, is an account takeover—whoever targeted you managed to gain access to all of your financial accounts.”
    For Audrey, a connection was made.
    â€œThey drained your personal account and your joint account a few days ago, at about the same time they put a mortgage on this house.”
    Audrey was struck dumb or else she would have said, “How is that possible?”
    â€œAnd, I should warn you—he cleared his throat apologetically— this may be just the tip of the iceberg.”
    Audrey began to feel light-headed. She heard, as if from a great distance, “Don’t worry—” But then she fainted, so she missed the part where he said, “You won’t be liable.”
    â€¢ • •
    E VEN THOUGH HE WAS grounded and he didn’t have access to a car anymore, John finally decided to call Nicole anyway. It had been over a week since he’d seen her, but it had taken him this long to get up the nerve. He had to come right home every day after school, but maybe he could cut classes and meet her for a coffee somewhere.
    He couldn’t remember much of what they’d talked about at the funeral home, but he could picture her perfectly.