Final Deposit

“Yeah, it has. I guess this is goodbye, then. It was great to see you again, Lindsey.”

“You, too, Kyle.”

“If ever you’re in the D.C. area, look me up.”

“I will.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment. He considered asking her out for dinner, but something stopped him. She had her own life to live in Dallas, while he had his in D.C. Another evening spent together wouldn’t change that. It was time to put the past behind him.

The elevator dinged and a group of nurses stepped out. Clearing his throat, he dug into his wallet, pulled out a business card and handed it to her before the elevator door closed. “I’ll be in the area a few more days on business. If you need something…anything…just call me.”

Lindsey took in a deep, calming breath and tried not to lose her temper. What she needed was a way to knock some sense into her father. From the moment she’d arrived in his hospital room, all he’d done was insist she go check on his cat. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help—not at all. But it was late and the last thing she was worried about was Sammy, his Siamese feline. She glanced down at her father’s groggy visage and swallowed her frustration. She might as well indulge him. It was the least she could do.

She leaned over and pushed back a strand of curly gray hair from his forehead. He’d aged the past few months, and it had her worried. Something had to be done.

He squeezed her hand. “So you’ll go?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, Daddy, I’ll go. Can’t have you worrying about Sammy, now, can we?”

He knew she’d do anything for him. He was all the family she had, and despite the fact that he drove her crazy, she loved him fiercely.

Fifteen minutes later, Lindsey parked alongside the curb of her father’s ranch-style, brick home and shut off the engine. The neighborhood was relatively safe, but she still didn’t like being here alone at night. She stepped out of the car, locked the doors and set the alarm.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

I know you’re here, Lord. I just need an extra measure of your peace tonight.

She crossed to the mailbox and slipped in the key she carried in her purse. These days, her father didn’t even bother bringing in the mail and the box was always full. Pulling out a stack of envelopes, she tried to get a grip on her emotions. Her tattered nerves were ridiculous. It had simply been an emotional, draining day, between Sarah’s wedding and her father’s emergency trip to the hospital.

And Kyle.

She managed a smile. No. Seeing Kyle again after all these years had been the highlight of her day. Maybe even of her week.

A shadow lengthened against the walkway as she turned toward the house. She froze at the curb. Something rustled in the bushes that lined the front of her dad’s house.

Suddenly, a cat darted out of the bushes. She jumped back, smacking her arm against the side of the mailbox. The cat ran across the yard and out of sight.

Her heart pounded. She clutched the mail to her chest and hurried to the house. Cat or no cat, she’d had enough surprises for one day.

Lindsey opened the front door, turned off the alarm, then locked the door behind her as she called for Sammy. It bothered her that her father seemed more worried about Sammy than the fact that he had just been admitted into the hospital. Or the fact that his only daughter was tromping around late at night to check on an animal that was more than likely sound asleep at the foot of his bed.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she walked past the ten-gallon fish tank and dropped the pile of mail onto her father’s orderly rolltop desk that sat in the corner of the living room. The top envelope caught her eye. She picked up the letter.

Regional Recovery Agency. A collection agency?

Her eyes narrowed. Why in the world was her father receiving mail from a collection agency? She opened the top-right drawer of his desk where she knew he kept his mail. There was a stack of opened notices all from the same company. She shook her head. There had to be a mistake. Her father had a perfect credit record. Or so she’d always assumed. He hated debt and had always worked to ensure she felt the same way.

She went to the open-planned kitchen, separated from the living room by a bar, and poured herself a glass of water. In the morning, all this would make sense. Her father would be released and he’d explain.

Except how could he explain a pile of letters from bill collectors? She set her glass down on the counter with a thud.

Identity theft?

The thought knocked the wind out of her. Was it possible? She went back to his desk and sat down. All the time he spent online didn’t ensure that he was knowledgeable about keeping passwords and credit-card numbers safe. There were so many predators out there these days that even regular mail wasn’t safe anymore.

Lindsey began flipping through the letters one by one. Bill collectors meant that the problem was substantial and couldn’t be solved overnight. She could call Kyle tomorrow. He would definitely know a thing or two about identity theft.

She rubbed the back of her neck and glanced around the room. Everything looked exactly the way it had when she’d dropped by three days ago with a dish of homemade lasagna and a loaf of garlic bread. The TV Guide and crossword puzzle lay on the armrest of her father’s recliner; the stack of CDs were neatly piled beside his stereo. Coffee-table books, her mother’s afghan and his worn slippers all lay in their rightful places. Even the fish tank, with its colorful African cichlids, still looked crystal clear.

Everything would be fine tomorrow, she told herself. They’d work through this just as they had worked through his diagnosis with prostate cancer. The doctors had given him an eighty-five-percent chance of a complete recovery. Surely the odds of solving this were even higher. She started toward the hallway to search for Sammy and then stopped short on the beige shag carpet. She stared at the glass curio cabinet against the wall, which had been a gift from her father to her mother on their thirtieth wedding anniversary.

The curio cabinet was empty. Every single one of her mother’s expensive porcelain figurines was gone. All of them. Lindsey opened the cabinet door and ran her finger across the dusty shelf. It couldn’t be. Her father would never sell the collection her mother had worked on for over four decades.

Would he?

THREE

Sammy strutted up to Lindsey and rubbed against her legs. She picked up the cat and held him against her chest, staring at the empty cabinet. Nothing made sense. Not the missing curios. Not the pile of collection notices. Nothing.

She put Sammy down despite his protests and shut the cabinet door. She crossed the room to her father’s desk. Two wooden file cabinets stood beside it, a glossy-leafed spider plant perched on the closest one. The other was covered with a half-dozen photos, mostly of her—one of the hazards of being an only child. Her first birthday…Disneyland when she was eleven…high-school graduation…standing in front of the Eiffel Tower while on vacation in France…the last family picture taken before her mother died…

She bit her lip and stared at her mother’s familiar smile. Her father had always claimed she and her mother could have been sisters with their curly blond hair and matching wide smiles. She stared at the photo. What would her mother do if she were here right now? Rush to the hospital to demand an explanation from her father? Or sort though his desk for answers?

Lindsey pressed her hands against the back of the rolling desk chair, wishing her mother were here. She sat down and pulled open the middle desk drawer. Half a dozen black pens lay side by side next to a neat pile of paper clips, rubber bands, Post-it Notes and a stapler. The left-hand drawer had hanging files. Hesitating slightly, she flicked the tab of the first file. More than likely, her father would have a few choice words for her if he knew she was perusing his desk, but she felt she had no choice. The answer had to be here.

She scanned each file folder. Appliance manuals. Car-service records. Investment figures. Receipts, warranties and phone bills. She tugged the drawer open farther to get to the back. Tax papers. Travel brochures. And…bingo. A fat folder all the way in the back revealed a three-inch-thick, rubber-banded batch of letters from collection agencies.

Nausea washed over her as she dumped the file onto the floor, slid off the sandals she had borrowed from Sarah and slumped down onto the carpet cross-legged beside them. She pulled out one of the folded pieces of correspondence to scan the contents of the letter. “You currently have an outstanding balance”…“Our policy requires all balances be paid in full”…“Please remit payment within ten days of receiving this letter…”

The next dozen envelopes revealed more of the same. Follow-up letters, threats and carefully chosen words of intimidation. Halfway through the pile the news got even worse, if that were possible. “We have initiated legal action and are preparing a lawsuit…”

A lawsuit?

The air rushed out of Lindsey’s lungs, and she fought to catch her breath. It was one thing to deal with the ramifications of possible identity theft, but a lawsuit? How could her father have let it come to this? For thirty-five years, he’d worked as a project engineer with a large oil company and brought home a good living. His investments had grown steadily throughout the years, giving him enough for a comfortable retirement. Now his retirement was in danger. Why hadn’t he told her about this?

Lindsey worked to fight the growing queasiness. Whatever was happening to her father had gone beyond a few late payments to a credit-card company. Had he gone to the police or hired a lawyer? The process might be slow, but surely he had enough evidence to verify his innocence while the issue was being resolved.

Unless this was his fault.

No. That was impossible. Lindsey stuffed the last notice back onto the pile and slipped the rubber band around the envelopes. There was no dismissing the fact that her father was in serious financial trouble, but it couldn’t have been his fault. She reached into her pocket and fingered the business card Kyle had given her. He’d said to call if she needed something.

The wooden clock sitting above the fireplace mantel chimed midnight, serving as a reminder that it was too late to ask for a favor. Besides, he’d already done enough for her by leaving the wedding reception early to drive her to the hospital. Maybe tomorrow, when things didn’t look so bad, she’d call him and ask for his advice.

Sammy was standing in front of his bowl at the far side of the kitchen, demanding his supper, when her cell phone rang. She jumped up and grabbed it out of her bag, terrified that it was the hospital calling to tell her that her father…

“Hello?”

“Lindsey? This is Kyle.”