“Ms. Albright.” Morrison waited until her glazed eyes shifted to his face. “We’ve very sorry for what’s happened to you. Very sorry for what happened to your friend. My partner and I have been after Rozwell for years. What happened here didn’t immediately get our attention, as Ms. Ramos isn’t his usual type, his target type. She was petite, dark hair, her name, no homeownership, and the clumsy burglary. Then an article came up in a search and mentioned you. Your house, your car.”
“And you are his type,” Beck continued. “When he was finished wiping you out financially, he would have killed you. He knows your schedule, your habits, had gained your trust. He’d have gotten you alone and done to you what he did to Ms. Ramos.”
“But you’re alive. You’re the first one of his victims we’ve been able to speak with.”
“I have to—” She shoved up, dashed to the half bath. When she was finished being sick, she splashed water on her face, scooped more out of the faucet to clear her mouth and throat.
In the mirror she saw a ghost of herself, sheet white, glassy eyes. Now that the sickness passed, all she had was numb.
She went back, lowered into the chair. “What am I supposed to do?”
“I know this is a shock,” Morrison began. “I know this is a very, very difficult time. Can we call someone for you?”
“No. What am I supposed to do?”
“You’re the first we’ve been able to interview,” Beck repeated. “The only survivor we know of. We need you to tell us everything you can remember. What he did, what he said. You said he texted you, so we’d like to copy those. Regarding the identity theft, your situation? I’d advise you to hire a lawyer as soon as possible to try to deal with that.”
“With what?” she demanded. “I’m broke. He came into the bar on a Tuesday night,” she remembered, and told them everything she could think of.
* * *
It got worse, and kept getting worse.
Over the next six weeks, the full extent of the damage Gavin Rozwell wrought dropped hard. He’d managed to reroute her last mortgage payment, sucked up her last two direct deposit paychecks—one from each job. He’d run up her credit card to the tune of $8,321.85 as well as taking out two more major cards for a total there that hit over fifteen thousand.
He’d taken out a home equity loan on her house, in her name, using all her financial data. Her careful, hard-won home improvements had increased the value of her house since she’d purchased it, and her credit score was excellent. He’d taken out the maximum allowed, and had walked away with twenty-five thousand. And that in addition to a business start-up loan he’d wrangled, with her home as collateral, for another twenty-five thousand.
He shouldn’t have been able to get two loans, two different lenders, but he’d done it—as she learned he’d done it before.
The insurance payment on her stolen car barely covered the amount she owed on it.
She had nothing left but debt, legal tangles, and grief.
Worse, somehow worse, he’d used the MacBook to wipe out Nina’s meager savings in the hours between her death and when Morgan found her.
She had no pride left to swallow when she called her grandmother and asked for money to hire a lawyer.
Though both her employers offered her financial help, that she couldn’t swallow.
And though it shamed her, she accepted the offer of Nina’s car.
She had to work, and needed transportation to get there.
She planted no garden that summer.
On a Sunday morning in mid-July, she learned of yet another loan taken in her name when two men came to the house.
One look told her: bill collectors, so she turned off the lawn mower and waited.
“Looking for Morgan Albright.”
“I’m Morgan Albright.”
The two men exchanged a look. “Don’t look like him.”
“Because I’m not a him,” she said wearily. “If this is about the equity loan, the business loan, the credit card charges, my lawyer’s handling it.”
“You’re overdue, Morgan. Mr. Castle lent you the twenty in good faith. Full payment and interest due July first. Interest’s doubling every day since the first.”
“I don’t know a Mr. Castle, and he didn’t lend me anything. I’m dealing with identity theft, and can give you the contact for my lawyer and the FBI agents investigating.”
“Mr. Castle’s not interested in your problems, lady. Morgan Albright took the money, Morgan Albright pays.”