Chapter 5 - THE OTHER LAST NAME

"Say that name again."

The finance manager did.

Erin Marie Caldwell-Hayes.

I wrote it down even though I did not need to.

"I have never used the last name Hayes."

Silence on his end.

Then a keyboard.

"Okay. I need to be careful about what I say. Are you telling me you did not apply for financing here?"

"I'm telling you I have never been inside your dealership."

More typing.

"And you did not authorize Britney Caldwell to apply with you as co-borrower?"

"No."

He exhaled through his nose.

"Ms. Caldwell, I'm going to flag this application and send it to our fraud department. You should file an identity theft report."

I hated how calm he sounded.

I wanted him to sound alarmed enough for both of us.

"What information did she use?"

"I can't disclose everything until we verify identity."

"Did she have my Social Security number?"

A pause.

"Yes."

"Employer?"

"Yes."

"Income?"

Another pause.

"Yes."

My stomach turned.

"What income?"

"One hundred eighteen thousand annually."

I almost laughed.

"That's not my salary."

"The application included supporting documents."

"What documents?"

"Pay statements."

I stopped breathing for a second.

"My pay statements?"

"Documents bearing your name."

The room around me went quiet even though I knew people were talking outside the conference room.

"Were they real?"

"That is what our fraud team will determine."

After the call, I sat with Morales and filled out a security incident report.

I felt ridiculous writing MY SISTER in the relationship field.

At 4:12 p.m., Britney called.

I let it ring.

She called again.

Then Mom.

Then Dad.

Then Britney sent a voice message.

I played it once.

"Erin, what the hell did you tell the dealership? They just canceled everything. You need to call them back. I already put money down. Do you understand me? Call them back."

No denial.

No confusion.

Just anger that the fraud had failed.

I saved the message.

Then, against every sensible instinct, I called her.

She answered with, "Finally."

"Did you forge pay stubs?"

"I didn't forge anything."

"Did you submit documents with my name on them?"

"The finance guy said we needed proof of income."

"We?"

"Oh my God, stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Talking like a cop."

"I'm talking like someone whose Social Security number you used."

She went quiet.

Then she said, softer, "I was going to make the payments."

It landed harder than a confession.

Because she still did not understand.

"That is not the point."

"It is the point. If I paid it, you weren't losing anything."

I rubbed my forehead.

"You used my identity after I told you no."

"You told me no about the card."

Same line as Mom.

Same little doorway they had built between what I meant and what they wanted.

Then Britney said, "Mom gave me the paperwork, so don't act like I'm the only one involved."

I went still.

"What paperwork?"

She laughed, but it came out thin.

"Ask her."

Then she hung up.

Ten minutes later, my father texted me one sentence.

Do not call the police until we talk.

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