Free The Mistaken by Nancy S Thompson

to the spa up in Napa, but proving so was more
difficult than it should have been. I attempted to get help from
the resort, but they had no answers except to ask who assisted me
with my purchases. I told them I had been helped by only one
employee—a woman—but I didn’t know her name. Even though I
described her to the manager, he was reluctant to name anyone
specific, but I think he knew exactly who I was talking about and
was only out to protect his employer’s interests, and possibly his
own job.
    I resisted going back up to the spa and confronting
that woman. God knows I wanted to, but Tyler had made me promise
otherwise. It was one pledge I was determined not to break.
I had already broken my vow to keep taking the Wellbutrin. I just
couldn’t tolerate the nausea and sleepless nights one minute
longer, so I stopped cold turkey. So far, I was feeling all right,
but there were times I had to work at keeping my cool, especially
when it concerned this case. It was easy enough to blame the
pregnancy.
    For several weeks, it seemed as if nothing was being
done. But then I received news of a break when Mike Tucker, who’d
been working closely with my bank, informed me that they had
videotape of someone attempting to make a purchase using my
account. He asked me to come in and see if I could identify the
suspect in a photo lineup. I drove up right away and sorted through
a stack of still shots taken from surveillance videos. They were
pasted neatly along white cardstock, three to a page, five pages in
all. There was no mistaking the woman from the spa, the one who had
assisted me with my purchases. My heart raced the moment I
recognized her.
    “That’s her...number fourteen,” I said as I tossed
the sheet at Tucker.
    I tapped my finger on the center image. He picked it
up and removed my selection, nodding once as he held it up to the
reflective glass along one wall in the small room.
    “Positive ID,” he said aloud to someone I couldn’t
see.
    A voice thick with years of nicotine abuse broke
over a speaker mounted high up in the corner of the room. “Thank
you, Mrs. Karras. That’ll be all for now. We’ll let you know if we
need anything else.”
    Tucker stood and collected the pages of photographs
scattered across the table.
    “Wait a second,” I said to the mirror. “Don’t just
dismiss me like that. I want to know who that woman is. Do you even
know? Am I allowed to know?”
    Tucker looked over at the reflective glass.
    “Yeah, sure. Go ahead, Tuck,” the gravelly voice
said.
    Tucker nodded and turned back to me. “Okay then. Her
name is Erin Anderson. She’s been busted three times for check
fraud but has never been convicted, at least not yet. She’s still
employed at that resort you visited last September.”
    I clapped my hands and rubbed them together, freshly
energized with hope. “That’s great! Now what? Do you arrest her?
Will she go to jail? Stand trial? What?”
    “No, not yet. We’ll continue to gather evidence for
the District Attorney’s office. He’ll determine whether Ms.
Anderson should be brought into custody or not, but you shouldn’t
get your hopes up, Mrs. Karras. As I told you before, these cases
are difficult to prosecute and are not high on his list of
priorities. We’ll send somebody up there to question her, but it
could be a while, so...” He finished with a shrug, scooping up the
stack of pictures and brushing by on his way out.
    But I reached for his arm to stop him. “You’ve got
to be kidding me! That woman has made it impossible for me to buy a
home before my child is born, and now you’re telling me I have to
sit and wait for the DA? My case has nothing to motivate him. That
is so unfair, Officer Tucker. Who the hell is looking out for me ? This isn’t just about a few credit card charges. That
woman has affected my entire life. She needs to be held
accountable.”
    “I agree, but it’s out of our hands, Mrs. Karras.
I’m sorry, really, I am. The minute