Chapter 3
I thought I'd misheard her.
"Both of ours?"
Nia nodded.
I stared at my wife.
Then at the bank statement.
Then back at her.
"You put my name on a loan?"
She covered her face.
"Derek, I was going to tell you."
"When?"
She didn't answer.
"When the bank started calling me?"
Her shoulders shook.
"When the payments came due?"
"Derek—"
"When our house was at risk?"
She began crying harder.
I forced myself to breathe.
Anger wasn't going to help me understand what had happened.
I needed facts.
"Did I sign anything?"
Nia hesitated.
My stomach dropped.
"Nia."
She looked down.
"The paperwork was electronic."
I stared.
"What does that mean?"
She rubbed her hands together.
"I used the information we already had."
I felt sick.
"What information?"
"Your Social Security number. Your income documents."
I stepped backward.
She continued quickly.
"I wasn't trying to steal anything."
I stared at her.
"You used my identity."
She shook her head.
"We're married!"
"That doesn't give you permission to sign for me."
Her expression hardened.
"Everything we have is shared!"
I looked directly at her.
"Not my identity."
For the first time, she seemed to understand how serious the situation had become.
She reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
"Where are the loan documents?"
She looked toward the hallway.
"In my office."
"Get them."
She hesitated.
"Now."
Nia stood.
She walked toward the small office beside our living room.
I followed.
Her desk was covered with neatly arranged folders.
She opened a locked drawer.
Inside was a thick blue binder.
She handed it to me.
My name appeared on the first page.
DEREK WASHINGTON.
Co-borrower.
My stomach twisted.
I turned another page.
There was an electronic signature.
It looked like mine.
But I'd never authorized it.
I stared at the date.
Nine months earlier.
That day, I had been in Dallas supervising a construction project.
I remembered because I'd called Nia from the airport.
She told me she'd spent the afternoon shopping with Jasmine.
I looked at her.
"Where were you when this was signed?"
She whispered, "At home."
I closed the binder.
Then opened it again.
I needed to be certain.
The loan documents listed a business address.
Harbor Ridge Investments LLC.
A post office box.
No physical office.
No property description that I could identify.
I looked at Nia.
"Where did seventy-five thousand dollars go?"
She shook her head.
"Into the investment."
"What investment?"
"The property."
"What property?"
She stared at me.
Then whispered, "Jasmine handled that part."
I felt a terrible realization forming.
"You don't know?"
Nia began crying.
I stepped closer.
"Do you actually know where the money went?"
She shook her head.
Not dramatically.
Not angrily.
Just a small movement.
And suddenly I saw something I hadn't considered.
Nia might have been lying to me.
But Jasmine might have been lying to her.
I took a breath.
"Call your sister."
Nia looked frightened.
"Derek, please."
"Call her."
She reached for her phone.
Her hands trembled.
She dialed.
The call rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then Jasmine answered.
"Hey, girl!"
Her voice was cheerful.
Too cheerful.
Nia swallowed.
"Jasmine, Derek knows."
Silence.
Then Jasmine spoke quietly.
"Knows what?"
I leaned closer.
"The company," I said.
Another pause.
Then Jasmine laughed nervously.
"Oh, hey, Derek."
"Where's the property?"
She didn't answer.
I repeated the question.
"Where's the property you supposedly bought with our money?"
Jasmine sighed.
"Derek, investments take time."
"What's the address?"
Silence.
"What's the parcel number?"
Nothing.
"Who's the seller?"
Jasmine's voice changed.
"You don't understand how this works."
I stared at the phone.
"I run a construction company. I deal with property records, contractors, and financing every week."
She said nothing.
"Give me the address."
Jasmine finally spoke.
"It's complicated."
I looked at Nia.
Her face was draining of color.
I turned back toward the phone.
"Did you buy any property?"
Jasmine hesitated.
Then the call ended.
Nia stared at her screen.
"She hung up."
I nodded.
"I noticed."
She called again.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
A third time.
The phone went straight to voicemail.
Nia began trembling.
"She wouldn't do this."
I looked at her.
"Wouldn't do what?"
She shook her head.
"She wouldn't take the money."
I wanted to believe her.
But the evidence was beginning to tell a different story.
I opened my laptop.
Then searched the state's business registration records.
Harbor Ridge Investments appeared.
Registered nine months earlier.
Nia was listed as manager.
Jasmine was listed as an authorized organizer.
I opened another public record database.
I searched for properties associated with the company.
Nothing appeared.
No commercial buildings.
No residential properties.
No undeveloped lots.
I looked at Nia.
"There's no property."
She shook her head.
"That can't be right."
I turned the screen toward her.
"Then show me what Jasmine bought."
Her eyes filled.
"I don't know."
We sat in silence.
Then Nia's phone buzzed.
A message from Jasmine appeared.
Nia read it.
Her expression changed.
I leaned forward.
"What does it say?"
She didn't answer.
I gently took the phone after she handed it to me.
May you like
The message contained one sentence.
"If Derek finds out about the other account, we're both finished."
