He answered on the second ring. “Hello, this is Micah.”
She felt just a little of the heaviness lift at the sound of his voice. Though she didn’t know him well, she knew he understood and he’d offered his help. She’d be a fool not to accept it, even if it meant swallowing an uncomfortable slice of humble pie to admit she couldn’t do it alone.
“You still got that fax machine?”
“You still got that cantankerous credit report?”
Chrissy managed a chuckle. “I do, in fact it’s gotten worse. They got to my bank accounts this morning.”
Micah was quiet for a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Chrissy hadn’t expected tears, but his sincerity undid her—and that was saying something based on how unraveled she already felt. She cleared her throat. “I could really use a wingman.”
“Well, that just happens to be my specialty. Come on over, I’m here all day.”
Chapter 36
San Ysidro, California
Tuesday, May 20
Chressaidia pulled off I-5, glancing back at the delivery truck that had followed her from the San Diego warehouse and would continue over the border. Eduardo was driving the contents—mostly baby formula, but with fifty pounds of assault weapon parts hidden inside each of the five pallets inside the truck. She’d told Eduardo only last night about the guns. He didn’t seem surprised and had helped her pack enough parts to assemble sixty AK-47s. If all went well, the first shipment would reach her father within two weeks, and she’d be right behind it with the rest.
She pulled her car into the parking lot, the same one Frederico had parked in when she’d arrived almost three months ago. As she walked across the border, she watched the truck as best she could. If anything went wrong, she was untouchable. Even Eduardo knew her only as Chressaidia. But she planned on succeeding. If it failed, she would have to find another way across the border with the rest of the weapons—and without Eduardo’s help.
She lost sight of the truck as it went under the overpass and bit back her frustration as she pushed through the revolving gate. Within ten feet, she was back on Mexican soil, or concrete as was the case. Customs required a detailed check to get into America, but anyone could come to Mexico. She walked to the taxi area slowly, stopping every few steps to check on the progress of the truck just thirty feet away. It was a legitimate crossing. Baby formula was not produced in Mexico and was often imported through the Tijuana crossing. The truck was registered to a real transportation company, so the documents verifying its crossing were also legitimate. Only she and Eduardo knew the truth.
The truck wasn’t through by the time she reached the taxi area, so she took out her cell phone and pretended to have a conversation, giving herself a reason to loiter while still watching the truck. It was almost five minutes before the truck finally nosed out of its lane. Eduardo picked up a Coca-Cola can and put it on the dashboard, his signal that there were no problems.
Chressaidia smiled to herself and closed the phone. She continued her walk toward the taxi stand and slid into the grimy backseat of a blue-and-white cab. “The old racetrack in Agua Caliente,” she said in English. She’d walk to the checkpoint from there and make sure everything was in order before returning to America later that afternoon. Tomorrow, Eduardo would drive the empty truck back and they’d start working on the next shipment.
“Sí, Señora,” the taxi driver said.
Only then did she allow herself to relax and take pride in what she’d accomplished.
Sixty rifles down, three hundred and forty to go.
Chapter 37
Is it really three o’clock already?” Chrissy said as she heard the front door shut. It had been Chrissy’s goal to have left before Blake, Micah’s son, came home. For whatever reason, it just felt strange having his kids come home to find a strange woman in their father’s office.
“I guess it is,” Micah said, looking up from the computer. “Sorry I haven’t been much help today.”
Chrissy stared at him. “Are you kidding? I’m gonna be making you tamales every month for the rest of my life to pay you back for all this.”
Micah smiled. “I like tamales.”
“Well, then, you’ve set your price.”
The banter had come easy and it took the edge off. Thank goodness. Today she’d sent another half-dozen faxes, yelled at a few people who didn’t necessarily deserve it, and hung up on two people who did deserve it. Having Micah there gave her confidence, even if he told her she ought to be a little more even-tempered. Whatever.
“Hey, Dad.”
They both looked up at the doorway and Chrissy finally stood, despite wanting to stay. Being there and having Micah to bounce ideas off of was so much more comfortable than going it alone. But she didn’t want to intrude on his family time.
“Hey,” Micah said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms over his head. “How was school?”
“Lame,” Blake said, but he was looking at Chrissy. “Hey, Chrissy.”
She smiled. She’d met him twice now, and he acted as if she belonged here. She liked it—perhaps a little too much. “Hey,” she said easily.
“You staying?” Blake asked.
Chrissy caught the briefest of looks exchanged by father and son, and it was all she could do to stifle her curiosity and not try to figure out what it meant.
“No, I’ve got to get home.”
Micah stood. “So, have you decided about the job thing?”
Chrissy made a face. “Yeah, it’s really my only option.” She hadn’t told him how much she hated going back to work for Brandon—only that she was pretty sure she could find some work there.
“It makes sense,” Micah said.
“Or, hey, Pizza Hut is hiring,” Blake said with a teasing grin. “You could try that out.”
Chrissy laughed. “It’s not that bad,” she said. “Pizza Hut is about number eighteen on a list of twenty other options.” Not to mention she wasn’t sure she’d pass their background check either. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that her difficulty in finding a job had to be linked to the ijacking.
“I’m working out of the office tomorrow,” Micah said after following her to the door. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Chrissy said. “I’m a big girl and by now I ought to be able to handle a day on my own, don’t ya think?”
Micah shrugged. “Keep me in the loop though, okay?”
He held her eyes and she didn’t look away for several seconds. Not until a second school bus pulled up and reminded her she needed to go. “I will.”
“Promise?”
“Well, Micah Heet,” she said, putting a hand on her chest. “I do believe you’re flirting with me.”
His cheeks went red and then his glance moved over her shoulder. Chrissy turned and saw his daughter descending the bus steps.
“I’ll call,” she said, hurrying to her car and hoping she wasn’t getting to forward. Either way, she found it remarkable that amid all the garbage in her life she could drive home with a smile on her face.
Chapter 38
Idaho Falls, Idaho
Wednesday, May 21
It had been three days and there was still no word from an investigator. Micah was working at his office, which meant Chrissy was home alone and giving into despair when Lupe called. She’d received a wedding order for a mother-of-the-bride dress and two flower-girl dresses—was Chrissy interested? Chrissy tripped over her words as she said, “Yes, absolutely, can I start them today?”
Once back home with the fabric, measurements, and pattern in hand, she went to work with a vengeance, gearing up for tomorrow when she’d have to go back to Almo and beg for work. She needed today to get her strength up, and the dress orders were exactly what she needed.
At 4:30, with the flower girl dresses cut out and one of them half finished, the phone rang again.
“Hello?” Chrissy said, her expectations high once she saw the name of her ban
k on the caller ID. She flipped up the sewing foot and cut off the thread before removing the dress bodice from the machine.
“Hi, this is Teresa Olsen. I’ve been assigned as the investigator on your National Prime account.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Chrissy said, straightening in her chair and shutting off the sewing machine so she could give her full attention to the phone call. “I’ve been wondering—”
“This recorded message is to inform you that I am committed to giving you the best service possible.”
Recorded message? Chrissy frowned. “You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.
Teresa’s recorded voice continued. “I will be sending updates via e-mail every few days. After the tone, please say, and spell, your
e-mail address so that I might be able to communicate with you at each stage of the investigation. I also encourage you to become familiar with your own credit report. You can purchase one through National Prime for $29.95. Please go to our web site for more information. Thank you for being a customer of National Prime, where your money is our business. Please leave your e-mail address after the beep.”
The beep sounded, and Chrissy paused for a moment, her anger roiling. “I don’t have an e-mail account. That’s “I-space-D-O-N-apostrophe-T-space-H-A-V-E-space . . .”
Chapter 39
Chula Vista, California
Where have you been!”
Chressaidia jumped, the doorknob still in her hand. She wasn’t expecting Frederico to be here. He was supposed to be in LA for the week. His high-society friends were demanding more and more of his time, and he was slowly allowing her to do more and more of his responsibility for the trade, something she found very ironic since she’d been operating over his head for weeks now.
“I’ve been working,” she said, closing the door and brushing her hair from her eyes. She was still feeling elated over the successful crossing yesterday, and a small part of her wished she could share it with him. Wouldn’t he be shocked? But she couldn’t; she wouldn’t. This was her project, her mission. He had already lost his birthright, so to speak, and she couldn’t wait to see him completely crumble to the ground.
“Working on what?” Frederico asked.
She eyed him as she walked to the kitchen and got herself a glass of water. Was he generally suspicious or could he have somehow caught wind of what she was really doing? “It’s none of your business. How was LA?”
He glared at her with dead, black eyes set against skin that had taken on a grayish tone. The drugs were taking their toll. Good. That only made him weaker.
“You’re trying to pull something over on me,” he said when he reached her. He lifted his hand, but she caught it at the wrist, staring him down and feeling her muscles strain against his attempts to pull away. His other hand lashed out at her, and she grabbed it as well, twisting both arms and throwing them down. His drugged-out, Americanized efforts were no match for her lifetime of living in the jungles of Guatemala and being educated at the toughest Brazilian boarding schools. She could have fought him off the other times he’d come at her, but it hadn’t seemed prudent.
“You will not hit me again,” she said caustically. “I am no longer only good for what I can bear from my womb.”
Frederico’s eyes turned wild, standing out even more against his dull and tired skin. “You are still my wife. You will not disobey me and make me a fool.”
“You are already a fool,” she said, glaring at him. “I have proven that.”
Chapter 40
Idaho Falls, Idaho
Thursday, May 22
It was barely ten o’clock Thursday morning when Chrissy walked up to the front doors of Almo insurance company. Everything looked so familiar, but she felt very different as she surveyed the room. That morning she’d finished up the dress order and taken it to Lupe, shocking the older woman with how quickly she’d finished them. Unfortunately, Lupe didn’t have any new orders. Chrissy collected her cash payment, filled up her car with gas, and mailed off a portion of her power bill, promising the rest as soon as possible. Then she’d sat in her car and been forced to make a decision. No matter how badly she hated it, she knew Brandon would give her a job.
A bell sounded when she opened the door and she thought of a few positive affirmations to get her attitude heading in the right direction. You’re a capable woman. You look great. No one can make you feel less than you are if you don’t let them. You’re good enough, you’re smart enough, and doggone-it, people like you!
Within a few seconds Brandon came out of his office. She’d worn a sports bra and a high-necked blouse in hopes Brandon would look her in the eye. And he did. For almost five full seconds. Pathetic.
“Chrissy,” he said brightly. “What brings you slumming down here?”
His voice was like sand between her teeth, but she forced a smile and got right to the point. “Well, I’m wondering if you guys could use additional help for a little while.”
“Te reemplazamos,” he said—We replaced you.
She’d forgotten how he loved to speak Spanish to her. Maybe being a hotel housekeeper wouldn’t be so bad. If she were willing to try, she knew she could get hooked up with some people who helped illegals find jobs. But she wasn’t an illegal and shouldn’t have to work outside the boundaries of the law to get work. “I know, and if you’re fully staffed, no big deal, I just thought I’d check.”
He tilted his head and gave her a cocky grin, his gray-blue eyes shimmering. “¿Nos extrañaste verdad?”—You missed us, didn’t you?
“Something like that,” she answered with a smile most people would recognize as fake, but didn’t even register with Brandon. “Where’s Carla?”
Thankfully Brandon switched back to English. “She’s had some problems with her daycare so she doesn’t come in until one o’clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and actually, we’ve fallen behind on our filing system because of it. I don’t know how long it would take to catch it up. Maybe by the time you finished, we’d have more work for you to do. I’m sure Carla would appreciate the help.”
Filing, perfect. “That would be great,” Chrissy said, relieved that this had worked. “I can start today, but I have some personal things I have to work on next week, so if you could be flexible with me, at least for now, I’d appreciate it.”
Brandon smiled slowly, and Chrissy shifted her weight as his gaze traveled down. “I can be flexible,” he said. The office phone rang, breaking whatever spell he was under. “You can use the extra desk and computer in the file room.”
“Sure,” Chrissy said, heading down the hall and beating down her reservations. She had found a job. She was going to be paid!
She opened the door to the file room and was startled at the disarray. When she had been here just over a month ago, everything had been in meticulous order. Now there were files stacked precariously on top of the large, metal cabinets and about a hundred Post-it notes stuck to the walls. She took one down. “Add the Ford truck back to the Pederson policy.” It was dated over a week ago.
Brandon hadn’t said that Carla was doing a good job managing the office, and if this note was any indication, perhaps Chrissy could get her old job back. Only, she didn’t want her old job back. It was ironic that instead of having her normal life and a different job, she had her normal job and a different life. But there was no point thinking such dismal thoughts. She scanned the room again, not the least bit discouraged by the task before her.
“Soy bendecida por tener trabajo,” she said to herself—I am blessed with work. It was something Abuelita had often said as she left for her second or third job. Chrissy put her purse on the only empty surface of the room—the top of the watercooler—kicked off the pink, kitty-heeled sandals she’d worn, and got to work.
Chapter 41
Idaho Falls, Idaho
Monday, May 26
I can’t give you any information on that account.”
“It’s my account,” Chrissy said into the pho
ne. It was Memorial Day, so Almo was closed, but since credit never sleeps, she’d hit the phones. However, this was the second creditor today who was completely stonewalling her. Last week people had at least talked with her, but now she was getting nowhere. “How can you not give me information on my own account?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s policy that once an investigation has been opened we are no longer able to give information over the phone. You’ll have to speak with your consultant.”
Consultant? “So an investigation has been opened?” Chrissy asked. “When I called last week, I was told I needed a police report.” Had they flagged it anyway? “I didn’t know I had a consultant, can you give me the name?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t give you that information. It should have been given to you at the time you filed the official investigation.”
“But it wasn’t given to me!” Chrissy nearly screamed. “They told me they wouldn’t start an investigation without a police report number.”
“Which you must have given them.”
“But I didn’t! I can’t get one until I get proof from you. I was hoping you would send it to me.”
“We already did,” the woman said, her own tone growing in annoyance. “I’m going to transfer you to my manager.” The line clicked and Chrissy tapped her foot, trying to make sense of this new information. They told her they wouldn’t start investigating, but now they were investigating and wouldn’t talk to her? This made no sense at all. The phone clicked again before the line went dead as the transfer dropped her call.
“I’m going to lose my mind,” Chrissy said to herself as she slammed the phone down, again. Covering her eyes with both hands, she tried to calm her frazzled thoughts. She’d thought that since she’d faxed and mailed all of the credit companies an explanation last week, she could make some progress today. But if anything, they were even harder to deal with now. Every creditor insisted on getting a fraud report from the police first. The police insisted on getting a fraud report from a creditor first. And this creditor had shut her down for a completely different reason.
Her Good Name Page 12