Final Deposit

“Kyle?” Her heart skipped a beat. “Hey. You should be sound asleep by now.”

“I know I shouldn’t have called so late, but I was worried. I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked.

“No. It’s fine. I’m glad you called.” Sammy brushed up against her legs impatiently. “I’m at my father’s house.”

She pressed the phone against her shoulder as she crossed the kitchen and bent down to pick up Sammy’s bowl.

“Is your father all right?”

“I think he’ll be fine.” She put the bowl on the counter, opened a can of cat food and spooned the pâté-like substance into the silver bowl. “They’re still running some tests, but we should know more tomorrow. At least he’s stabilized.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Me, too. The only thing is…” She hesitated as she put Sammy’s bowl on the floor. “You deal with identity theft in your company, don’t you?”

“Sure. I’d say a good ten to fifteen percent of our clients are dealing with compromised finances.” There was a pause on the line. “Why do you ask?”

“I think someone stole my father’s identity. It’s the only explanation I can come up with for what I’ve found,” she said, feeling a wave of guilt for sharing her father’s secrets.

In any other circumstances, she’d be thrilled to talk to Kyle, but at the moment, she had the strong urge to hang up. Saying it out loud made it all too real.

“Tell me exactly what you found,” he said calmly.

Lindsey drew in a steadying breath. “My father was worried about his cat, so I promised I’d drop by the house. On my way in, I checked the mail and found letters from a collection agency.”

“Anything else?”

“I found more notices in his desk. At least two dozen letters from several agencies.” She picked up the dishrag and began wiping the already spotless countertop. “And there’s more.”

“Tell me,” he said.

“My mother has a collection of limited-edition porcelain figurines worth quite a bit of money. She’s been collecting them for years.” She glanced at the empty cabinet across the room. “They’re all missing.”

“Could your father have sold them to pay down his debt?”

“It’s possible, but it doesn’t fit.” She dropped the rag into the sink, then slid onto one of the bar stools at the end of the counter. “My father’s a miser when it comes to money. He’s never late on credit-card payments. In fact, he refuses to use credit in most cases. I can’t even see him having debt, never mind selling the curios to pay it off.”

“You mentioned how he’d been depressed lately. Could it be he’s overspending online, or maybe gambling?”

“Gambling? I don’t know.” She squeezed her eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening.

“Lindsey, I know it’s a sensitive topic, but it does happen. Spending money online becomes addictive. And it’s a way to bury the pain of loss.”

Lindsey couldn’t even respond. Was her father spending his retirement money online to cope with his grief? How could she have missed this?

“I’m sorry,” Kyle said. “I know it’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay.” She rubbed her thumb against her temples and took another breath. “I’m scared, Kyle. There was even mention of a lawsuit in one of the letters.”

“I know it’s frightening. Especially if it is identity fraud. I can’t do much tonight, but with a few more details and your father’s permission—”

“I’m not sure he’ll give you that,” she said, looking at the stack of letters on the floor.

“You have to know that admitting what’s happening is often the most difficult step,” Kyle continued. “It makes a person feel out of control. Vulnerable. And the solution isn’t always easy. Trying to clear his name will be time-consuming and tedious. He’ll need you more than ever to deal with the cleanup.”

“What if it is his fault? What if you’re right and he’s taken up online gambling and bought a yacht off eBay or…or a time-share in Tahiti?”

His laugh made her smile. “Let’s find out what the damage is first. Then we’ll worry about the solution.”

She knew she shouldn’t be dragging him into this situation, but she didn’t know who else to turn to. She picked up her car keys off the counter and fiddled with the key chain. “I’m sorry to dump all this on you, Kyle. I’m sure you didn’t have this conversation in mind when you called.”

“I was thinking of something more along the lines of asking you to dinner, actually.”

Her smile widened. “Dinner would be nice, Kyle. I—”

Lindsey was interrupted by the violent sound of shattering glass.

She jumped from the bar stool and spun around. The metal handle on the back door shook. Someone was breaking in.

FOUR

Kyle drove as fast as he could without risking getting pulled over. Lindsey’s directions had been surprisingly simple, a blessing considering he knew his way around Dallas about as well as he knew his way around the kitchen. With any luck, he should be there in the next five minutes.

Except five minutes might be too late.

He pushed the redial button on his cell phone but she still wasn’t picking up. He’d told her to get out of the house through the front door and wake up one of the neighbors while he called 911. He glanced again at the clock on the dashboard. The police should be there by now.

God, please don’t let anything happen to her.

He couldn’t help but wonder if the break-in had something to do with the pile of collection notices she’d told him about. What exactly had George Taylor gotten himself involved in? The bottom line was that the circumstances were no longer a threat only to him. There was a good chance his actions had put his daughter’s life on the line. Kyle knew Lindsey wasn’t someone who would back down from a situation just because things got rough. But he had a feeling things were going to get even rougher.

His tires squealed as he took the next exit too sharply, and skidded to a stop at the light. He pounded the steering wheel out of frustration, wondering if he should ignore the red light. Another car idled beside him, but other than that the road was quiet. The digital clock announced another minute had passed. The light turned green. He slammed his foot against the accelerator and shot through the intersection. Now all he needed to do was to find the third street on the left.

The area quickly transformed from strip malls and late-night diners to residences. Stately oak trees, merely shadows in the pale moonlight, lined either side of the winding road. He passed the first left. It couldn’t be far now.

The piercing shrill of a siren tore into the quiet of the late night. Kyle glanced in his rearview mirror, jerked his foot off the accelerator and pulled to the side of the road. Strobing red lights pressed in behind him.

No, God. No…

His chest constricted. The ambulance shot by, casting eerie flickers of light across his dash. He moved back into the lane and picked up speed, waiting to see if it was headed for Lindsey’s father’s house. He tried to block the flood of images that flipped through his mind. What were the chances of her fending off an attacker before the police arrived?

The emergency vehicle whizzed down the road, passing Mr. Taylor’s street. Kyle felt the rush of adrenaline shoot through his heart. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t her.

Slowing down at the third turn, he swung a sharp left and began searching for the house. Thirty-three…thirty-five…He stopped two houses short of her father’s one-story brick house and pulled his rented Mazda against the curb.

Please, God. Let her be okay.

He steadied his breathing. Half a dozen people stood talking on the front lawn, but the street lamp didn’t cast enough light to clearly make out who they were. One or two officers and a couple of neighbors? Squinting in the darkness through the windshield, he caught a glimpse of Lindsey’s pink dress and let out a sigh of relief.