Chapter 6 - JUNE FOURTEENTH
Detective Reese asked me to come to the station before he explained anything else.
Marlene drove.
Neither of us spoke during the first ten minutes.
I kept seeing the date on my calendar.
June fourteenth.
Gavin had brought home Thai food that night.
He had rubbed my swollen feet while we watched a comedy I barely remembered.
He had handed me a single page on a clipboard during the commercial break.
"Credit union membership," he had said.
"Sign here."
I had signed.
Then I had gone back to eating noodles.
That ordinary memory had become evidence.
Detective Reese met us in an interview room.
The prepaid phone sat in an evidence bag on the table.
He placed printed photographs beside it.
The first image showed a loan agreement.
Borrower: Audrey Marie Ellison.
Principal amount: $15,000.
The lender was Westline Community Credit Union.
The signature at the bottom looked like mine.
Not exactly.
Close enough to fool someone who had never watched me sign my name.
"That's not my signature."
Reese nodded.
"We expected you to say that."
"Why?"
He pointed to the next photograph.
It showed the same document on our dining room table.
Beside it was my driver's license.
A black pen.
And Gavin's left hand holding the corner of the page.
His wedding ring was visible.
I stared at it.
"He photographed himself doing it?"
"Not intentionally, probably."
Reese pointed to the edge of the image.
"Looks like he was trying to capture the document. His hand happened to be in frame."
Marlene whispered something under her breath.
I did not ask her to repeat it.
"Why was this on the second phone?"
"We're still working on that."
Reese slid another page toward me.
"There are text messages."
The messages were between Gavin and a contact saved as D.
GAVIN: I HAVE HER SIGNATURE.
D: NEED ID TOO.
GAVIN: GOT IT.
D: YOU SURE SHE WON'T SEE MAIL?
GAVIN: I HANDLE THE MAIL.
My stomach twisted.
The final message was dated June fifteenth.
GAVIN: FUNDS HIT.
D: GOOD. PAY WHAT YOU OWE BEFORE FRIDAY.
I looked up.
"Who is D?"
"We don't know yet."
"Casino?"
"Possibly."
"Loan shark?"
"Possibly."
"Friend?"
"Possibly."
I hated that word.
Possibly meant danger without shape.
"Where did the fifteen thousand go?"
Reese folded his hands.
"The credit union confirmed the loan proceeds were deposited into an account in your name."
I blinked.
"My name?"
"Yes."
"Then why don't I know about it?"
"Because the account was opened online the same week using your identity information."
My mouth went dry.
"Another account?"
"At the same credit union."
"How much is in it?"
"Nothing now."
Of course.
"Where did it go?"
"Three transfers."
He pointed to a sheet.
Five thousand dollars to an account with an online bank.
Five thousand dollars withdrawn as a cashier's check.
Five thousand dollars moved through a payment service.
"Can you trace them?"
"We're working on it."
Marlene leaned forward.
"Is Gavin being arrested?"
Reese's expression stayed neutral.
"We are building a case."
"He forged her signature."
"The evidence appears significant."
"Then arrest him."
"Mrs. Ellison—"
"Which Mrs. Ellison?"
He blinked.
For the first time all day, I almost laughed.
Marlene pointed at herself.
"Sorry. Marlene."
Reese nodded.
"Marlene, financial crimes usually require verification from institutions, records, and sometimes warrants."
"Meanwhile he is walking around threatening her."
"Those messages are being documented separately."
I touched Marlene's sleeve.
"Let him finish."
She sat back.
Reese turned to me.
"I also want you to consider speaking with a family-law attorney."
The word divorce entered the room without anyone saying it.
My chest tightened.
I had been married seven years.
At breakfast the day before, I still believed we were preparing for a baby together.
Now a detective was recommending a lawyer.
"I don't know what I want yet."
"You don't have to decide the entire future today."
Everyone kept telling me that.
Maybe because they could see I was trying to.
"But you should understand your rights, especially regarding finances, housing, and the baby."
The baby moved as if she had heard him.
I rested my hand on my stomach.
"Can Gavin take money from my paycheck?"
"Ask the attorney."
"Can he open more credit in my name?"
"Your credit freeze should make that harder."
"Can he take the baby furniture and refuse to give it back?"
"Document ownership."
"Can he show up at the hospital?"
"Your medical providers can explain access rules."
Every answer required another person.
Another office.
Another form.
Another place where I had to explain that my husband was not who I thought he was.
When we left the station, I had three new folders.
One for identity theft.
One for bank records.
One for medical and insurance records.
Marlene bought me a fourth at an office supply store.
She labeled it GAVIN - COMMUNICATIONS.
"Subtle," I said.
"I considered LIAR."
I laughed.
It hurt.
But it was still a laugh.
Then my phone rang.
My landlord.
His name was Mr. Carver.
"Audrey, I need to ask you something strange."
I looked at Marlene.
"Go ahead."
"Gavin called me this morning."
My pulse jumped.
"What did he say?"
"He asked whether I would remove you from the lease."
For a second, I could not speak.
"Can he do that?"
"No."
Relief made my knees weak.
"Not without your agreement."
"Did he say why?"
Mr. Carver sounded uncomfortable.
"He said you had moved out and that the marriage was ending."
Marlene's eyes widened.
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him both tenants remain responsible until I receive proper written notice."
"Thank you."
"Audrey, there's more."
Of course there was.
"He asked whether I would return the security deposit to him if he terminated the lease."
Our security deposit was $2,400.
"Did you?"
"No."
"Good."
"But he also asked if I had received your notice."
"What notice?"
"A thirty-day notice to vacate."
I stopped walking.
"I never sent one."
Silence.
"I was afraid of that."
"Do you have it?"
"An email attachment."
"Forward it to me."
He did.
I opened the PDF in Marlene's car.
It was a letter addressed to Mr. Carver.
It said Gavin and I intended to vacate the property at the end of the month.
At the bottom were two signatures.
Gavin Ellison.
Audrey Ellison.
Mine was fake again.
But this forgery was different.
It was not from June.
The notice had been sent that morning.
At 10:42 a.m.
While I was at the bank trying to stop Gavin from taking the last sixty-three dollars.
Mr. Carver sent the original email headers from the forged notice.
The message had come from a newly created address using my name.
AUDREY.ELLISON.HOME.
I had never seen it before.
The account had been created that morning.
The signature block included my phone number and an old work title I had stopped using two years earlier.
Gavin knew that title because it still appeared on a framed certificate in our home office.
That tiny mistake mattered.
Current me would never have used it.
The version of me Gavin was imitating was assembled from old information.
A copy, not a person.
I sent the headers to Detective Reese.
Then I called Mr. Carver again.
"Did Gavin ask anything else?"
"He asked whether you could be considered to have abandoned the unit."
My stomach dropped.
"What did you say?"
"That two days away does not equal abandonment, especially when one tenant changed the locks."
"Thank you."
"Audrey, I've managed rentals for thirty years. People say strange things during divorces."
"We're not even divorced yet."
"I know."
He sounded genuinely sad.
"For what it's worth, I never thought you sent that notice."
"Why?"
"You always email me from your college address. And you use complete sentences."
I laughed despite myself.
Gavin's fake email had said:
Need deposit returned ASAP. Thx.
A tiny stylistic difference had become evidence of identity.
After the call, I added another column to my spreadsheet.
INCONSISTENCIES.
Wrong job title.
Wrong email.
Wrong writing style.
I realized then that knowing myself had evidentiary value.
For years, Gavin's confidence had made me question my own memory.
Now the details of my actual habits were helping prove what I had not done.
My life left a pattern too.
May you like
And unlike his, mine did not require invention.
He had been planning to erase me from my home at the same time.
