Part 7: Ethan Wasn’t Ethan
The second turn came from the bank.
The fraud officer, Teresa Nguyen, called me on Friday morning while I was in the school parking lot waiting for Lily.
“Ms. Parker,” she said, “we were able to flag two of the outgoing transfers before they cleared.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“How much?”
“Twenty-eight thousand.”
My eyes burned.
Not saved.
But not gone.
“There’s more,” she said.
The rest of the money had been moved through an account under Ethan Ward.
Except Ethan Ward did not exist.
Not really.
The man Jessica had brought into my house had used a dead man’s Social Security number, a fake driver’s license, and at least four different last names in three states.
Teresa couldn’t tell me much. Bank people have this way of sounding like they know everything and are legally allowed to say almost nothing.
Detective Cobb filled in more later.
“Ethan” was actually Daniel Pruitt.
Thirty-eight.
Fraud warrants in Ohio and Georgia.
Two prior arrests for stealing from women he dated.
He had met Jessica at a bar in Dayton, told her he owned a roofing company, and moved into her apartment after nine days.
Nine.
I had known about Ethan for four months and still never liked him. I thought he was too smooth. Too tan for March. He wore those loafers without socks and called waitresses “sweetheart.”
That was my whole read.
Loafers.
Meanwhile, my daughter had built a case with a purple tablet and glitter tape.
Daniel had run when the motel manager told them police were asking about the SUV.
He took Jessica’s phone, the cash they had pulled from an ATM, and her shoes because apparently evil has room to be petty.
He left her in room eight with a vending machine honey bun and no way to pay for the room.
They caught him two counties over after he tried to buy a bus ticket with one of my business cards.
The card was canceled.
He argued with the clerk.
The clerk called the police because Daniel called her a name people don’t forget at 6:40 in the morning.
That was how it ended for him.
May you like
Not with some grand chase.
With a Greyhound clerk named Marsha who had zero interest in his bullshit.
