Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WEARING MY NAME
I slept beside Chloe that night.
Not because she asked.
Because I couldn't stop imagining airport terminals.
Passports.
Boarding passes.
My children walking beside Brandon while Brenda carried documents declaring that I had voluntarily surrendered financial and parental authority.
It was absurd.
It was terrifying.
And most frightening of all, it had almost worked.
By Wednesday morning, Evelyn had contacted the appropriate authorities regarding the passport applications and disputed every authorization connected to them.
The children were staying in Tahoe.
No unsupervised contact.
No surprise pickup from school.
No friendly aunt appearing with a story about Dad needing them.
I hated thinking that way about people who had attended birthdays, Christmas mornings, and school recitals.
But evidence had replaced trust.
That was the reality now.
Marcus arrived at my parents' house shortly after eight carrying a laptop and two coffees.
“I found the notary.”
I let him inside.
“Alive?”
He looked at me strangely.
“Very much.”
“That came out darker than I intended.”
“You've had a rough week.”
“Who is she?”
“Elaine Foster. Mobile notary in Sacramento.”
“Does she remember me?”
“Claims she does.”
I stared.
“I've never met her.”
“That's why we're going to see her.”
Elaine Foster operated from a tiny office between an insurance agency and a bakery.
She was sixty, nervous, and clearly unhappy when Marcus introduced us.
Her eyes moved to me.
Then widened.
“You're Rachel Hayes?”
“Yes.”
She went pale.
“Oh.”
That one syllable told me everything.
“You notarized documents for someone pretending to be me.”
Elaine sat down slowly.
“She had identification.”
“Mine?”
“A California driver's license.”
“My license is in my wallet.”
Elaine looked toward Marcus.
He nodded.
“Tell her.”
She swallowed.
“The woman wore large sunglasses at first. I asked her to remove them. She did. She had brown hair. About your height. Similar face shape.”
“Similar?”
“She looked enough like the photograph that I didn't immediately question it.”
“Was she alone?”
Elaine shook her head.
“A man came with her.”
My voice became quiet.
“Brandon?”
“I don't know your husband.”
Marcus showed her a photograph.
Elaine recognized him instantly.
“Yes.”
That hurt more than it should have.
Maybe I had still been holding onto some microscopic possibility that Brandon had created paperwork but never actually tried to use it.
That tiny defense vanished.
“Was anyone else there?”
Elaine hesitated.
“A woman waited in the car.”
“Older?”
“Yes.”
“Brenda?”
Another photograph.
Elaine nodded.
My mother-in-law.
Of course.
“What exactly did you notarize?” Evelyn asked.
Elaine pulled records.
Power of attorney.
Property transfer.
Statement concerning financial incapacity.
Trust-related documents.
The same pieces Marcus had already shown me.
“How could you notarize a declaration saying Rachel was mentally confused while watching somebody sign it in front of you?” Evelyn asked.
Elaine looked ashamed.
“I assumed it concerned future planning.”
“And the identification?”
“It passed.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“Do you maintain camera footage?”
“The building does.”
My pulse increased.
Thirty minutes later, the property manager gave investigators access to archived security footage.
There she was.
A woman approaching the office beside Brandon.
Brown hair.
Long beige coat.
Dark sunglasses.
My height.
My build.
When she turned toward the hallway camera, I recognized her.
Paige.
My sister-in-law had dressed like me.
My hands curled around the arms of the chair.
Paige had always resembled Brandon more than she resembled Brenda. Same dark hair. Similar cheekbones.
Apparently similar enough to me, with the right angle, hairstyle, and stolen identification.
I watched Brandon place a hand against Paige's lower back as they entered the notary's office.
He looked completely relaxed.
Not nervous.
Not ashamed.
Relaxed.
As if stealing his wife's identity were another errand between lunch and a dealership meeting.
Then the footage jumped forward forty-six minutes.
They emerged.
Paige looked pale.
Brandon looked pleased.
He kissed her forehead.
She pulled away.
Marcus paused the video.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“She doesn't look comfortable.”
“She still did it.”
“Yes.”
I didn't want excuses made for Paige.
She had impersonated me.
She had helped transfer my property.
She had participated in fraud.
Whether she enjoyed it did not change what she had done.
My phone vibrated.
A message from her.
I'M SORRY.
I stared at it.
Then another.
I THOUGHT IT WAS TEMPORARY.
And another.
BRANDON SAID THE DEALERSHIP WOULD COLLAPSE AND YOU'D DIVORCE HIM IF YOU KNEW HOW MUCH HE LOST.
I typed for the first time.
YOU STOLE MY IDENTITY.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Finally:
YES.
My fingers trembled.
WHY?
Her response came slowly.
MOM SAID WE WERE SAVING THE FAMILY.
I nearly threw the phone.
Instead, I handed it to Evelyn.
She read silently.
“Keep her talking.”
I hated the idea.
But I typed.
WHAT DOES MIAMI HAVE TO DO WITH IT?
Nothing.
Then:
PAIGE?
Finally:
WE WERE SUPPOSED TO MEET SOMEONE.
WHO?
I waited.
A minute.
Two.
Five.
Then Paige sent:
A MAN WHO WAS GOING TO BUY THE HOUSE INTEREST.
I stopped breathing.
“What house interest?” I asked aloud.
Evelyn read over my shoulder.
She looked at Marcus.
“Blue Heron's forty percent.”
Marcus's expression hardened.
“They were monetizing it.”
I typed again.
WHY MIAMI?
Paige answered.
HE WANTED TO CLOSE WHERE YOU WOULDN'T SEE.
WHO IS HE?
No response.
WHO IS BUYING IT?
Nothing.
Then my phone rang.
Brandon.
I answered.
Evelyn immediately motioned for me to put the call on speaker.
“What?” I said.
Brandon didn't shout this time.
His voice was controlled.
That was worse.
“Rachel, I don't know what Paige told you.”
“She told me enough.”
“You're scaring her.”
“She impersonated me in front of a notary.”
Silence.
“You don't understand what happened.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“No, you don't.”
“I understand you stole my identity.”
“You're calling your husband a thief?”
“Yes.”
His breathing changed.
“Careful.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It's advice.”
Marcus began writing.
I continued.
“Why were you trying to take Lucas and Chloe to Costa Rica?”
That broke his composure.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Who told you that?”
“So it's true.”
“No.”
“Then why are there passport applications?”
“Rachel—”
“Why is your mother the emergency contact?”
“Because you lose everything.”
The words slipped out so quickly I almost missed them.
“What did you just say?”
He stopped.
“What do I lose, Brandon?”
“I said you lose perspective.”
“No, you didn't.”
“Stop twisting my words.”
“What do I lose?”
He hung up.
Nobody in the room spoke.
Marcus eventually said, “He knows the documents are exposed.”
“Good.”
“That could make him reckless.”
“He's already reckless.”
Evelyn looked at me.
“Rachel, I want you to remain away from the marital residence until we have more protections in place.”
“Fine.”
“Also, do not meet Paige alone.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
My phone chimed.
Paige again.
This message contained a photograph.
A conference room.
Glass walls.
Ocean visible through windows.
A silver briefcase sitting on a table.
Under the image, Paige wrote:
THIS IS WHY WE CAME TO MIAMI.
Then:
BRANDON THINKS THE DEAL IS STILL HAPPENING TOMORROW.
Marcus enlarged the photograph.
On the far edge of the table sat a folder.
A logo appeared on the front.
GOLDEN PALMS VENTURES.
Then Paige sent one final message.
I HAVE COPIES OF EVERYTHING.
“Tell her to leave,” Marcus said.
I typed.
GET OUT OF THERE.
The response came instantly.
I CAN'T.
WHY?
Three dots appeared.
Then:
HE TOOK MY PASSPORT.
My stomach dropped.
Before I could answer, another message arrived.
Not from Paige.
From Chloe's school.
It was an automated notification generated when a parent or approved contact attempted to change a student's pickup authorization.
I opened it.
Someone had added a new authorized pickup person for Chloe.
BRENDA HAYES.
May you like
The request had been submitted twelve minutes earlier.
From Miami.
