Chapter 8: The Account Nobody Told Us About
Renee sat down slowly.
She placed the handwritten note on the table, smoothing its creases with her fingertips.
“An account in our daughter's name,” she whispered.
I pulled out the chair opposite her.
“Do you remember opening anything for her besides the savings account?””
“No.””
“Any education fund? Trust account? Anything Camille might have helped arrange?””
Renee shook her head.
“We opened her savings account when she was little. You and I signed those papers together. Camille wasn't involved.””
She stared at the note.
“Unless somebody used our information to open something else.””
The possibility made my stomach tighten.
We had spent years protecting our daughter's personal information. We kept her Social Security card in a locked drawer, and we rarely shared copies of her documents unless a school or medical provider required them.
But Camille had visited our home countless times.
She'd helped Renee sort paperwork.
She'd watched our daughter while we ran errands.
She had been trusted because she was family.
I picked up the binder again and checked the remaining pages.
There were copies of old bills, a tax document, and several printed emails. Nothing immediately identified another account.
Then Renee noticed a folded page tucked into the back pocket.
She pulled it free.
It was a letter from a financial institution we'd never used.
The letter was addressed to Renee as the parent or guardian of our daughter.
At the top was an account reference number.
The date was six months old.
Renee read the first paragraph, then covered her mouth.
“What is it?”” I asked.
She passed it to me.
The letter confirmed that an account had been opened for our daughter and that certain identity details had been recorded as part of the application.
It did not establish who had opened it.
It did not show a balance.
And it did not prove that money had been stolen from it.
But it was enough to make us realize we had another problem to investigate.
Renee stood and began pacing between the kitchen table and the living room.
“I never approved this.””
“We'll find out what it is.””
“How? We don't even know who has access.””
“We contact the institution listed on the letter. We verify our daughter's information, report that we don't recognize the account, and ask them to secure it while they investigate.””
Renee stopped pacing.
“And if somebody has been using her identity?””
“Then we document everything and follow the proper process.””
She looked at me.
“I can't believe we're having this conversation.””
“Neither can I.””
For a moment, she looked as though she might cry.
Then she sat down and opened her laptop again.
We contacted the institution using the phone number on its official website, not the number printed on the letter. After explaining the situation, we were transferred to a specialist who handled account security.
The specialist confirmed that an account matching the reference number existed, but she couldn't discuss its full details until our identities and legal authority were verified.
We provided the required information and explained that neither parent recognized the account or remembered authorizing it.
The specialist placed a security restriction on further activity while the institution reviewed the application and its authorization records.
She could not confirm whether the account had been opened fraudulently.
She also couldn't disclose who had submitted the application until the review was complete.
When the call ended, Renee leaned back in her chair.
“So now we have two financial problems.””
“Two potential problems,” I corrected gently.
“We know about the transfer. We don't yet know what happened with the other account.””
She gave me a tired look.
“That's not making me feel better.””
“I'm not trying to.””
She lowered her head.
“I just want to know what my sister did.””
I understood.
We wanted answers, but we also wanted the answers to be different from what the evidence seemed to suggest.
A mistake would be easier to forgive.
A misunderstanding would be easier to explain.
But forged signatures, an unexplained transfer, and an account opened in our daughter's name were not things we could dismiss because the person involved shared our last name.
The next morning, Renee called Camille.
I sat at the kitchen table while she made the call, keeping my distance so she could speak privately if she wanted to.
Camille answered cheerfully.
“Hey, girl! I was just about to call you.””
Renee didn't return the greeting.
“Did you transfer $48,000 out of our savings account?””
Silence.
Then Camille gave a short laugh.
“What?””
“You heard me.””
“Renee, what are you talking about?””
“The transfer to your account. Twelve days ago. Did you move our money?””
Camille's voice hardened.
“Why would you accuse me of something like that?””
“Because the transaction went to an account in your name, and there's an authorization form with Marcus's signature on it that he says he never signed.””
A pause.
Then Camille spoke more slowly.
“Renee, you need to calm down.””
Renee closed her eyes.
“Don't tell me to calm down. Did you move the money?””
“I didn't steal anything.””
“That wasn't my question.””
Camille sighed loudly.
“You don't understand what you're looking at.””
“Then explain it.””
“I was helping with a financial arrangement.””
“What arrangement?””
“I can't explain it over the phone.””
Renee stared at the kitchen wall.
“Why not?””
“Because there are things you don't know.””
“Then tell me.””
Camille lowered her voice.
“Marcus isn't supposed to be involved in this yet.””
I sat upright.
Renee looked at me.
“Why would my husband not be involved in our own savings?””
Camille didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, “Because he would ruin everything before it was finished.””
Renee's face went cold.
“Finished doing what?””
“I'm not having this conversation while you're upset.””
“Camille, if you moved our money without authorization, the bank is investigating. If you used our daughter's information to open an account, that is being investigated, too.””
Camille went silent.
When she spoke again, her voice had lost its cheerful warmth.
“You shouldn't have involved the bank.””
Renee gripped the edge of the table.
“What?””
“You should have called me first.””
“You had twelve days to call us.””
“I was trying to fix it.””
“Fix what?””
Camille exhaled sharply.
“You don't know what you're dealing with.””
Renee's voice trembled, but she kept it steady.
“Then tell me.””
For several seconds, the only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator.
Finally, Camille said, “Ask Tasha what she was promised.””
Renee froze.
I stood so quickly my chair scraped across the floor.
“What does Tasha have to do with this?”” Renee demanded.
Camille didn't answer.
“Camille!””
The call ended.
Renee stared at her phone.
I looked at her.
“Call her back.””
“No.””
“Renee—”
“She hung up because she doesn't want to answer.””
She placed the phone on the table.
“I'm not chasing her around while she decides which lie to tell next.””
I sat down again.
“Then we need to contact Tasha.””
Renee nodded slowly.
But before she could pick up her phone, a message appeared on her screen.
It was from an unknown number.
*Stop asking Camille questions. You don't know what she agreed to.*
Renee read it aloud.
I took a screenshot of the message and wrote down the time it arrived.
Then another message appeared.
*Ask your husband why Tasha was at his apartment yesterday.*
Renee's face changed.
I could feel the air leave my lungs.
The message had arrived at exactly the wrong moment, when our trust was already damaged and our family was being pulled in several directions.
It was designed to make Renee doubt me.
And after what had happened with Tasha, I couldn't blame her for feeling unsettled.
She slowly lowered the phone.
“Marcus.””
I looked at her.
“I know what you're thinking,” I said.
“No, you don't.””
She stood and walked to the window.
“I've spent years believing that the people closest to us would never deliberately hurt our family.””
I said nothing.
She turned around.
“Yesterday, you told me you put your hands on Tasha. Today, I find out Camille may have moved our money. Now somebody is sending me messages trying to make me think there's something between you and Tasha.””
“There isn't.””
“I know what you've told me.””
“Renee, there has never been anything between us.””
She looked at me for a long moment.
“Then I need the truth about everything. Not just the part that's convenient.””
I nodded.
“You'll have it.””
She looked down at the message again.
Then she did something I hadn't expected.
She called Tasha.
The phone rang four times before Tasha answered.
“Hello?””
Renee put the call on speaker.
“Tasha, we need to talk about Camille.””
There was a pause.
“What happened?””
“We found a message saying you were promised something. We also found a document suggesting an account may have been opened in our daughter's name.””
Tasha stopped breathing for a moment.
Then she whispered, “You found the letter?””
Renee looked at me.
“What letter?””
“The one in Camille's folder.””
“How do you know about it?””
Tasha didn't answer.
Renee's voice became sharper.
“Tasha, how do you know about that letter?””
“I can explain.””
“Then explain.””
Tasha took a shaky breath.
“Camille told me the money wasn't really yours to begin with.””
I leaned toward the phone.
“What does that mean?””
Tasha's voice dropped.
“She said the $48,000 was supposed to be moved into a family investment. She said Renee had already agreed to it, but you would object because you wanted to keep the money in savings.””
Renee's face turned pale.
“I never agreed to anything.””
“I know that now,” Tasha whispered.
“Why did you believe her?””
“Because she showed me paperwork.””
“What paperwork?””
Tasha hesitated.
Then she said, “A document with Renee's signature.””
Renee looked at me.
I could see the fear in her eyes.
Another signature.
Another document.
Another explanation that didn't match what we knew.
I reached for the phone.
“Tasha, listen to me. We need to know everything you know about this arrangement.””
“I know.””
“Did you receive any money?””
Silence.
“Tasha?””
She began crying.
“Yes.””
Renee closed her eyes.
“How much?”” I asked.
Tasha's answer was almost inaudible.
“Five thousand dollars.””
I stared at the phone.
Renee gripped the edge of the table.
“Why did Camille pay you five thousand dollars?”” she asked.
Tasha sobbed once, then tried to steady her voice.
“Because she said if I helped her get the paperwork through, she would make sure I got the rest of what she promised me.””
“What rest?”” Renee demanded.
Tasha didn't answer.
Then, after several seconds, she said something that made my blood run cold.
“She promised me the apartment.””
I stared at Renee.
“What apartment?”” I asked.
Tasha's crying stopped abruptly.
“Your apartment, Marcus.””
May you like
The room went silent.
Then Tasha whispered, “Camille told me that once the money was moved and the paperwork was completed, the apartment would belong to me.””