Chapter 4: The Money in My Mother's Account
I spent that night staring at the anonymous message until the words seemed to burn themselves into my screen.
Check your mother's bank records. She didn't just know about the loans.
Ava was asleep in the back seat by the time we reached our apartment. I carried her inside, tucked her beneath her unicorn blanket, and stood beside her bed long after her breathing settled into a steady rhythm.
I wanted to believe the message was another cruel attempt to frighten me.
My mother had always favored Kiara. She had always made excuses for her. But helping someone commit fraud was different from pretending they hadn't done anything wrong.
I couldn't accept that my own mother might have been involved.
At 1:17 a.m., my phone rang.
Mom.
I watched it vibrate across the kitchen counter before answering.
"Natalie," she whispered, "please tell me you're not going to press charges against your sister.""
I closed my eyes.
"That's the first thing you want to talk about?""
"She's terrified. She hasn't stopped crying since the officers left.""
"What about the eleven names on that list?""
"She says she can explain.""
"Then she can explain it to the investigators.""
Mom inhaled sharply.
"You sound just like a stranger.""
I looked at the pile of credit reports beside my laptop.
"You know what sounds strange to me? A mother finding out that her daughter stole fifty thousand dollars using her sister's identity and still worrying more about the thief than the person she robbed.""
"That's not fair.""
"Neither was watching my mortgage application get denied.""
"You don't understand the pressure Kiara was under.""
"Then tell me what pressure justified using my Social Security number.""
She went quiet.
I waited.
Finally, she said, "I made mistakes, too.""
My stomach tightened.
"What mistakes?""
"I should have handled things differently.""
"Mom, what did you do?""
"I can't talk about this over the phone.""
"Why not?""
"Because I need you to listen to me without getting angry.""
I laughed bitterly.
"You want me to promise not to get angry before you tell me what you did?""
"I knew you'd react like this.""
She hung up.
I stared at the screen, feeling the familiar ache of being blamed for asking a reasonable question.
Then I opened the anonymous message again.
The sender had used a disposable number. There was no name, no photograph, and no way to identify the person behind it.
But the timing bothered me.
Whoever had sent it knew what happened at the party. They knew about the loans. They knew my mother might be connected.
I opened my banking app and checked my own accounts. Nothing looked unusual.
Then I opened the folder containing the documents I'd gathered for the identity-theft investigation.
One page listed the addresses associated with the fraudulent loans.
The first two were Kiara's former apartment.
The third was my mother's house.
I had noticed the address before, but I'd assumed it was a mailing address Kiara had used without permission.
Now I wondered whether that assumption had been another mistake.
The following morning, I called my mother.
She answered immediately.
"Have you calmed down?"" she asked.
"Did you receive any money from the loans opened in my name?""
Silence.
"Mom?""
"Why would you ask me that?""
"Because one of the accounts used your address.""
"Kiara received mail here sometimes.""
"Did you receive money?""
She exhaled.
"I told you I made mistakes.""
My fingers went numb.
"What does that mean?""
"I helped her with some bills.""
"With money from the loans?""
"I didn't know where all the money came from.""
"Did you know any of it came from loans in my name?""
Another silence.
Then she whispered, "I suspected.""
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor.
"You suspected?""
"Kiara told me she'd borrowed money from family.""
"I'm family!""
"She said you'd agreed to help her.""
"You heard that yesterday. You also admitted you never asked me!""
"I thought she was telling the truth.""
"Did you transfer money into your account?""
Mom started crying.
"I paid the electricity bill. I bought groceries. I helped keep the house.""
"With my stolen money?""
"I didn't know it was stolen!""
"Then why did you say you suspected?""
She couldn't answer.
I ended the call before she could turn the conversation into another argument about my attitude.
At ten o'clock, I contacted the investigator assigned to my identity-theft report and explained the new information. I provided the anonymous message, the loan documents, and my mother's admission that she had received financial help from Kiara.
The investigator, Detective Lauren Hayes, asked me not to confront anyone about potential evidence.
"Let us establish what happened through records," she said.
"If there were transfers, we can seek the appropriate documentation. Don't attempt to access accounts that aren't yours.""
"I won't.""
"And keep that message exactly as you received it.""
After the call, I drove to my mother's house.
I wasn't going to search her belongings or demand her passwords. I simply needed her to tell me the truth.
She opened the door wearing a faded blue robe.
When she saw me, she looked past my shoulder as if expecting someone else.
"Is Ava with you?""
"She's at school.""
"Come inside.""
The house smelled of lemon cleaner and the cinnamon candles Mom burned whenever she wanted the place to feel welcoming.
On the dining table sat a stack of unopened mail.
Beside it was a brown envelope from a regional bank.
I recognized the name because it appeared on one of the suspicious loan records.
Mom noticed me looking.
"Those are personal documents.""
"Did money from my accounts go through that bank?""
She snatched the envelope off the table.
"Don't start.""
"I'm asking a question.""
"And I'm telling you to stop accusing me!""
"Then give me a reason to believe you.""
Her expression crumpled.
For a moment, I saw the mother who used to sit beside my bed when I was sick, brushing my hair away from my forehead and promising that everything would be all right.
Then she looked toward the hallway and lowered her voice.
"Kiara said she was going to pay everything back.""
"That isn't an answer.""
"She told me she had found a way to make money.""
"How?""
"I didn't ask.""
"Of course you didn't.""
Mom flinched.
I regretted the words for half a second, then remembered the collection notices, the rejected mortgage, and Ava's drawing of the house we might never afford.
"What did you do with the money?"" I asked.
"I paid bills.""
"Whose bills?""
"Mine. Some of Kiara's.""
"Did you ever give her cash?""
"Sometimes.""
"How much?""
"I don't know.""
I stared at her.
"How can you not know?""
"She would come over and say she needed help. Sometimes she would transfer money to me and ask me to pay something for her. I thought it was her money.""
"Did you keep records?""
Mom hesitated.
Then she walked to a cabinet and pulled out a small spiral notebook.
She placed it on the table.
The pages contained dates, amounts, and short notes written in her handwriting.
Electricity — $214.
Kiara's rent — $900.
Car insurance — $386.
Cash for groceries — $300.
Several entries had been marked with a small star.
I flipped through the pages.
There were dozens of payments.
Some were ordinary household expenses. Others were transfers to Kiara.
Then I reached an entry dated eleven months earlier.
*N.B. — $4,800 — emergency.*
My initials.
My mother's handwriting.
I looked up.
"What is this?""
Mom's face went pale.
"I can't remember.""
"You wrote it down.""
"It was a long time ago.""
"Did you receive forty-eight hundred dollars because of me?""
She sat down.
"Kiara said you were helping with a family emergency.""
"What emergency?""
"She didn't tell me.""
I pressed my palms against the table.
"Mom, this isn't about whether you love Kiara more than me. This is about whether you knowingly accepted money connected to fraud.""
"I didn't knowingly accept stolen money!""
"Then help me understand why my initials are beside it.""
She stared at the notebook.
Then she whispered, "Because Kiara said it was your money.""
My chest tightened.
"She told you I sent it?""
"Yes.""
"I didn't.""
"I know that now.""
I leaned back, struggling to breathe.
For two years, Kiara had used my identity. And somewhere along the way, she'd taught my mother to accept money in my name without checking whether I had sent it.
I closed the notebook.
"Detective Hayes may contact you.""
Mom grabbed my hand.
"Please don't tell her about the notebook.""
I pulled away.
"Why?""
"Because I don't want to lose my house.""
I stared at her.
There it was.
Not fear that her daughter had been victimized. Not horror at what Kiara had done.
Fear of consequences.
"Did you use the money to pay your mortgage?""
Mom started sobbing.
I stood.
"I have to go.""
"Natalie, please!""
I reached the front door before she said something that stopped me cold.
"Kiara told me the first loan was only supposed to be temporary.""
I turned around slowly.
"What do you mean?""
Mom wiped her face.
"She said you'd agreed to let her use your credit for a few months. She said it was a family arrangement.""
I stared at her.
"That's a lie.""
"I believe you.""
"Then why did you keep accepting the money?""
She had no answer.
I walked outside, my mind racing.
The anonymous message had been right about one thing: my mother's financial records might explain how the money moved.
But as I reached my car, my phone rang.
Detective Hayes.
"Ms. Bennett," she said, "we've identified a transfer connected to one of the accounts in your report.""
My pulse quickened.
"Where did it go?""
"To an account belonging to your mother.""
I gripped the phone.
"How much?""
"Forty-eight hundred dollars.""
The exact amount in the notebook.
I closed my eyes.
Then Detective Hayes continued.
"There's something else. The transfer wasn't made by your sister.""
I felt the world tilt.
"Who made it?""
"The account was accessed using credentials associated with another person.""
"Who?""
The detective paused.
"We're still verifying the identity, but the name appearing in the transaction records is yours.""
I couldn't speak.
May you like
Someone had used my identity to move the money.
And if the records were accurate, someone had also made it look as though I had willingly paid my own mother.
