Chapter 10 - The Plan
The reverse mortgage inquiry had been made using my Social Security number, my birth date, and the estimated value of my home.
Someone had everything they needed to pretend to be me.
"Was money issued?" I asked.
"No," Rachel said. "The process never reached closing."
"Why not?"
"They requested a counseling certificate and direct verification from you. Whoever started it stopped there."
I sat at Daniel's desk.
On the wall was a photograph of us at forty-eight, sunburned and laughing at Lake Michigan.
We had spent three decades building a life that two people had tried to turn into collateral.
Rachel told me to freeze my credit immediately.
Then she said, "Check your important documents. Social Security card, passport, tax records."
My passport was where it belonged.
My birth certificate was there.
The folder with old tax returns had been moved.
Inside, two years of returns were missing.
I called Harrison downstairs.
"Did you take my tax returns?"
"No."
"Did Sloan?"
He closed his eyes.
"I don't know."
"That answer is getting expensive."
We searched their room while Sloan was at work. Rachel had advised me not to go through closed personal containers without cause, so I limited myself to documents left in open view.
I found nothing.
Then Harrison noticed a manila envelope under the dresser.
He pulled it out.
On the front, in Sloan's handwriting, was my full legal name.
Inside were photocopies of my driver's license, two tax returns, the property tax statement, and Daniel's death certificate.
Harrison sat on the floor.
"Oh my God."
I could barely speak.
"She copied my life."
The front door opened downstairs.
Sloan was home early.
Footsteps crossed the foyer.
Then stopped.
"Harrison?"
We both looked toward the bedroom door.
Sloan appeared.
She saw the envelope in his hands.
May you like
And instead of looking surprised, she looked furious.
"You had no right to touch that."
