Chapter 2

Mom's eyes shifted away for a second, like she was choosing her words.

"Maybe it's just some kind of bank issue," she said. "Your dad's going in tomorrow to ask about it."

She paused, then added quickly, "I already had Harper send you three hundred dollars through Venmo. Use that for now. And please don't skip meals."

As soon as she said it, my phone chimed. A Venmo notification popped up from Harper Blake. Harper was Mom's coworker. She lived a few buildings down from us.

"Mom, why is Harper sending it? Why not you or Dad?" I asked.

"Your dad's banking app may be glitching, and I'm terrible with that kind of stuff," she said too fast. "That's all. Get some sleep, Emma. Don't worry about the money."

The call ended almost as abruptly as it had started. I looked at the extra three hundred dollars in my balance, but instead of feeling relieved, I felt even more uneasy.

At eleven that night, the dorm was dark. I lay under my blanket and opened my banking app again, scrolling through my transaction history without really knowing why.

Then suddenly, something stood out. This month, other than a few dining hall charges and convenience store purchases, there was barely anything there.

That wasn't right.

At the end of last month, I had withdrawn 150 bucks in cash to pay for materials for an elective. There should have been a record. There wasn't.

I sat up, switched on my phone flashlight, and dug through the deepest pocket of my wallet until I found the ATM receipt. The date was clear: March 31. Cash withdrawal. 150 dollars.

But in my banking app, March 31 showed only a dining hall charge.

Cold prickled up from my feet. I grabbed my laptop, logged into online banking, and pulled up the full account statement.

Same result. No withdrawal.

Either the bank had made a serious mistake, or something much worse was going on.

I took every bank card out of my wallet and spread them across the bed. Three cards.

One was the account the school used for tuition and campus expenses. One was the supplemental debit card tied to Dad's checking account.

The third was a card I had opened on my own to save money from tutoring and part-time work.

I checked them one by one.

School account: 100 dollars.

Supplemental card: zero. I only used that one in emergencies.

Then I opened the account for the card I had set up myself. By the time I entered the password, my hands were shaking.

The page loaded. Balance: 4,200.00.

I stared at the number, my mind going blank.

That account should have had a little over 700 dollars from tutoring last semester, plus another 300 from a part-time job I'd just started. Around a thousand at most.

Not over four thousand.

With trembling fingers, I opened the transaction history. The latest deposit had come in that afternoon at three.

Amount: 1,500.00. Sender: Richard Caldwell. My father.

The day before, another 1,500 from Richard Caldwell.

Above those were three more transfers earlier that month, ranging from 250 dollars to 700 dollars, all from names I didn't recognize. A few had notes like contract work or project payment.

My heart pounded so hard it hurt. I called the bank's customer service line. After a long round of identity verification, I asked what phone number was linked to the account.

The representative read out the number.

It was mine, but it was the one I used two years ago. I'd switched to a new number when I started college, and the old one had been shut off for over a year.

"Can that number still receive verification codes?" I asked.

"Our system shows the number is active and able to receive security messages," the representative said.

I hung up feeling cold all over.

Someone had kept a bank account in my name active using a phone number I no longer had. Dad's transfers, the money he said was for my living expenses, had all been going there.

But who would do that? And who even could?

A terrible thought rose in my mind. I reopened the details for the supplemental card.

That card had been opened under Dad's main account. In theory, the primary account holder could view every transaction, set spending limits, freeze the card...

He could also change the phone number linked to it.

I picked up my phone, ready to call Dad and demand an explanation, but stopped before I hit dial.

If Dad had really been monitoring my spending and redirecting my allowance, why? And what about the money sitting in this other account? What about those transfers from strangers?

My phone vibrated. It was an unknown number. After a second of hesitation, I answered.

"Hello, is this Emma Caldwell?" a calm male voice asked.

"Yes. Who is this?" I replied.

"This is Detective Liam Parker with the city police department's financial crimes unit.

"We've identified several unusual transactions tied to an account in your name, and we need to verify some information with you."

My breath caught. "What kind of unusual transactions?"

"Suspicious movement of funds," he said. "We need you to come in and assist with the investigation. Would tomorrow morning at nine work?"