Her Good Name

by Josi S. Kilpack

  “Stop,” the woman said when Chrissy was ten feet from freedom. With her hand, she pushed the door shut and Chrissy tried not to panic. “Sit,” she said in a tense voice, but also a fearful one. She had a look of desperation about her, a tight, barely contained, angry fear.

  Chrissy wondered who Micah had talked to. What was she expected to do? What could anyone else do to save her?

  With no other options, Chrissy sat on the edge of the bed and increased the pressure on her arm which throbbed and burned. The pressure caused even more pain and nearly made Chrissy forget to breathe. She didn’t know what to do and felt as if she were simply waiting for the next bullet, the final shot.

  Don’t go without a fight, she told herself.

  “I guess your father doesn’t know about the baby,” she finally said, putting all she could into sounding casual, as if the bullet in her arm were of no consequence. Chressaidia turned to face her, as Chrissy had hoped she would. Chrissy didn’t want her attention on the door and window that separated them from whatever and whoever was outside.

  “You speak Spanish?” Chressaidia asked, narrowing her eyes again as she realized Chrissy had heard everything. “No talking.”

  Chrissy shrugged, and tried to moisten her dry mouth. “Sure,” she said. “But I wonder what he’d think if he knew the truth.” Though never in a million years would Chrissy be the one to tell him. The idea that Baby Salazar was related to these people was a horrible thought. But bringing him up was the only weapon she had against this woman. It was the only thing that had garnered a reaction, and she wanted this woman’s full attention. Chressaidia narrowed her eyes. Chrissy kept waiting for someone to rush through the door—a full SWAT team or something—but she had to remind herself she wasn’t on a TV show.

  Trust me.

  She held on to those two words with every ounce of faith and determination she had and felt a small measure of peace wedge itself in between all the other emotions swirling in her chest. “I saw him, you know,” Chrissy said. “He’s beautiful.”

  Chressaidia hadn’t expected that, and for only an instant Chrissy saw the other women’s composure fall. Her face softened, her eyes changed; she was a mother after all. Though Chrissy couldn’t imagine what kind of evil drove this woman to do the things she did, she’d always believed that birth was a moment when this life and the one before it touched for the briefest of moments. This woman had brought a blanket, expecting to take her child home. She must have felt something before her coldness and superstition took over. Her reaction now proved she had.

  Now.

  Before Chressaidia could recover from her momentary distraction, Chrissy launched herself at the other woman’s stomach. Her head caught the woman hard on the left side and sent both of them careening into the dresser against the wall. She moved fast enough, and with enough force, that the woman didn’t have time to aim the gun she still held in her hand.

  The pain that flared through Chrissy’s body at the impact left her breathless and unable to move for a moment—not a good combination for a woman fighting for her life. But Chressaidia was pinned between Chrissy and the dresser so Chrissy dug the heels of her shoes into the carpet, bracing herself against the other woman. She knew she couldn’t hold her for long and prayed for strength.

  “You will not win this one,” Chrissy said through clenched teeth as Chressaidia screamed against her confinement and tried to get the upper hand.

  The door burst open and Chrissy panicked, thinking the father had returned and would finish her off. However, in the next instant she heard the voices of numerous men shouting and yelling orders to one another. She was pulled off the other Chressaidia and thrown onto one of the beds. She screamed, her arm feeling as if it had been ripped from her body.

  Someone reached down and helped her to her feet, then rushed her from the room. With a man on either side of her, holding her up, she had no choice but to run with them. She was trying to take it all in, figure out what had happened, when she looked up to see a pair of bright blue eyes coming toward her. He wasn’t wearing his Boise State hat, and she thought he’d never looked more handsome.

  “Micah?” she asked, finally feeling herself crumble. Tears filled her eyes. He was here, he was part of . . . whatever this was.

  He reached out for her and opened his mouth to speak as someone yelled from the motel room behind her and several shots rang out. She gasped and turned her head, but without a moment’s hesitation, the two men guiding her threw her to the ground, where her head connected hard against the asphalt. As the parking lot and the people funneled into blackness, she held on to the thought that Micah hadn’t left her, and that, in more ways than one, she had her life back.

  Chapter 97

  San Diego, California

  Wednesday, June 4

  Chrissy tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were apparently weighed down with heavy stones. When she finally managed to keep them open long enough to see anything, she saw those blue eyes again. He had his hat back and she smiled to know that he was there, until everything flooded back to her. Micah must have seen her smile falter because she felt his hand in hers as she closed her eyes again. The words “What happened?” played behind her lips, but she didn’t want to ask. She was sure she already knew.

  Her mouth was so dry she wondered if she’d ever had a drink of water in her whole life. She tried to lick her lips, but Micah guided a straw to her mouth and helped her take a drink. “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Well, you missed General Hospital—Sorry.”

  Chrissy tried to laugh, but it came out as a very unflattering snort. She attempted to move her left arm, but found it also felt weighed down with stones, yet the rest of her whole body felt strangely weightless at the same time. She was pretty sure she was at the hospital, seeing as how she remembered being shot and thrown to the ground. But that was as far as her clarity went.

  “How did you know about General Hospital?” she asked.

  “Amanda told me to turn it on earlier. She thought it might help you regain consciousness. She got real worried when even Jax and Lulu couldn’t wake you up.”

  “Is Kate really going to leave Sonny to work on the magazine?”

  Micah laughed. “I think you’ll find out tomorrow.”

  “Oh, good,” Chrissy said, attempting to smile again. “I’d be ticked if I missed anything important.”

  She’d forgotten that Micah was holding her right hand until he began rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. “So, do you want the good news or the bad news?” Micah asked.

  “There’s good news?” Chrissy asked. “I hope it’s got something to do with limited-edition Beanie Babies after all. Or maybe those parts really were for sprinklers—there could be a reward, right?”

  Micah laughed and moved his thumb over the back of her hand again. Maybe because of their circumstances, it seemed very intimate, warming her hand, her arm, and then the rest of her. Pain meds and Micah—could the good news get better than that?

  “Okay, so you want the good news,” he said. “The pistol was only a .22, and between the surgery and the two titanium pins, it’s going to be okay . . . eventually.”

  Titanium? “I’d better still be able to mop my floors. That takes a lot of upper body strength, ya know.”

  “You won’t be mopping for awhile,” Micah said. “But one day, that mop will be all yours, so long as you complete your physical therapy. Had it been a bigger caliber weapon, you might not have been so lucky.”

  “So the good news is that I’m down to one arm for awhile. What’s the bad news?”

  “I wrecked your car.”

  Chrissy turned her head too fast and an explosion seemed to erupt in her skull. The Fourth of July in her brain. It took a few seconds to recover and by then her exclamation of shock had lost some punch. “What?”

  “After I called the police, I was so anxious to get to you I forgot to put the car into reverse and I hit a cement beam. I’m sorry.”
>
  “I loved that car,” Chrissy said, wondering if she could find another one like it online.

  “Far more than it deserved.”

  “It was paid off.”

  “Its only redeeming quality. However, Amanda will be here later to pack up your underwear and you’ve got all kinds of police reports to prove who you are now.”

  Chrissy attempted a smile and they both went quiet. The IV hooked into Chrissy’s arm clicked as it sent more medication into her body. It helped take her mind off the car. “Micah,” she said quietly. He’d been looking at their hands entwined on the blanket but now he met her eyes. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  Micah nodded. Chrissy turned her head to the front again, focused on a tile in the ceiling, and tried to decide how she should feel about that. The face she saw in her mind was that final one, the one where her demeanor slipped at the mention of her son being beautiful. “And the other two? The men?”

  “I don’t know,” Micah said. “It all happened so fast, and I came with you in the ambulance so I didn’t get to ask a lot of questions. Detective Long will be here later. He wanted to talk to you and get a statement.” He leaned forward, and she turned so that they were facing one another. He reached up and brushed her hair from her face. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Chrissy. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  Her insides began turning to Jell-O at the look on his face, the tenderness and compassion. She couldn’t speak, so mesmerized by his words and expression.

  He leaned forward and kissed her softly, gently, and yet it was a kiss she felt as completely as she’d ever felt anything. When he pulled back she held his eyes, trying to figure out the most appropriate way to tell him to do it again.

  “I don’t know what happens with us now,” he whispered, the first trace of regret seeping into his words. “I meant it when I said my kids need me.”

  “I know,” Chrissy said, but a little tornado of expectation was growing in her belly. There was a “but” coming, and she braced herself for it.

  “But as I sat in that squad car, watching those officers move in on the motel, knowing you were in there, knowing you were hurt, I knew without a doubt that a life without you in it would be more than I could stand. I need the color, the life you breathe into me every time I’m with you.”

  It wasn’t just the meds that made her head spin. She felt herself relax against the pillows as an amazing sense of rightness settled over her for the first time. She stared at him, the soft lines around his eyes, the concern that created slight creases in his forehead. He hadn’t shaved in awhile and a red beard covered the lower half of his face, giving him an outdoorsman look.

  “How?” she asked softly, well remembering his explanation of why he couldn’t pursue a relationship. Well remembering her agreement with those reasons.

  “Can you be patient with me?” Micah asked, placing one hand on the side of her face. “If we both understand the considerations, can we—”

  “Knock, knock?”

  Chrissy would have thrown a bedpan at the door if she’d had control of either of her arms. Instead, she turned her head to see Jon Nasagi standing in the doorway. Micah stood and welcomed him in, shaking his hand in greeting. Chrissy wondered if Micah was relieved at the interruption, or if, like her, he was wishing he could throw a bedpan too.

  “Am I at your hospital?” Chrissy asked as Jon stepped to the end of the bed.

  “It’s the best one in the city,” he said. “I hear you put up quite a fight.”

  “More like stood there shaking in my heels until someone rescued me.”

  He laughed, and Micah sat back down, placing his hand on her arm as if it belonged there. “You’re going home in a couple days?” Jon asked.

  Chrissy looked at Micah; she had no idea. He nodded. “We fly home at five o’clock on Thursday. The doctor will give you good drugs so you can make the flight.”

  “I demand my makeup kit before I leave this place. I really have no business talking to either of you in the state of undress my face is in right now.”

  Both men laughed. “Anything you want,” Micah said.

  Chrissy shared a look with him and raised an eyebrow that made him blush. She hadn’t meant anything by it—not really—but his reaction made her wonder how he’d interpreted it.

  There was quiet for a few moments, then Jon spoke. “I just wanted to offer—if you’re interested—there’s a certain someone in the NICU that would like to say good-bye before you go. Things are going to be better for him now.”

  Chrissy felt her spirits lift. “I can go see him again?” she asked. “That would be okay?”

  “Better than okay.” Jon looked at Micah, a question in his eyes.

  Micah cleared his throat. “I mentioned that you might have some questions to ask, about . . . finding a home for Baby Salazar. I was telling Jon how nice Idaho Falls is this time of year, and that once your name is fully cleared, you might give in to some wacky thoughts you’d been having.”

  Chrissy’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t want to get her hopes up—knowing it was a fantasy. Yet she was unable to forget

  all the times she’d wondered why this had happened to her. “It was just . . . a crazy idea.”

  “I wish more people had crazy ideas like that,” Jon said. “No pressure, but know that I would go to bat for you in every way I could.”

  “But,” she hesitated, then hurried forward. “It’s . . . possible?”

  Jon smiled a little wider and nodded.

  “Anything’s possible,” Micah said, taking her hand again and smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so. She imagined he was talking about more than Baby Salazar this time. “All it takes is a little work, a little faith, and perhaps a sturdy pair of heels.”

  Author Notes

  Based on a joint survey conducted by the Better Business Bureau and Javelin Strategy and Research, identity theft continues to be the fastest-growing crime in America for the eighth year in a row. Consumer awareness is finally making a dent; however, for 8.4 million victims in 2007 (down from 10.1 million in 2003), that is small comfort. I have always believed that education is the most powerful tool we have in fighting any form of evil—hence, author notes. J

  Identity theft can be categorized in four different groups:

  Financial Identity Theft—When someone uses another person’s name and Social Security number to obtain goods and services. This is the most common—and most successful—type of identity theft. Examples include setting up credit card accounts, renting apartments or office buildings, taking out loans, using another person’s health insurance, or gaining fraudulent access to existing accounts in the victim’s name.

  Criminal Identity Theft—When a person pretends to be someone else when arrested for a crime, creating a false criminal record for the victim. This is perhaps the oldest form of identity theft, and police agencies are well aware of the temptation for criminals to pin their crime on someone else, but there are still many instances where a person falsely verifies an identity to the extent where charges are filed, warrants are issues, and affidavits are filed against them.

  Once this becomes a part of someone’s criminal record, it can be very difficult to reverse and often takes several months to resolve, requiring substantial proof of the victim’s identity, as well as proof of the identity of the perpetrator of the fraud, which can be difficult if the perpetrator was released and is not around to admit to his fraud.

  Identity Cloning—When someone uses another person’s information to assume his or her identity in daily life. They often obtain fake birth certificates and driver’s licenses so as to fully assume the new identity. The people they interact with know them by the victim’s name. Often this is used when someone is hiding their real identity for reasons of past criminal behavior or to protect themselves. This type of theft often leads to financial and/or criminal theft as well.

  Business/Commercial Identity Theft—When a business use
s another business’s name to obtain credit. This is similar to financial identity theft, but is made on a business rather than a personal level and is just as debilitating to the business that ends up with a credit history that reflects another business’s debt. It undermines the victim’s credibility and reputation, often resulting in extreme losses or eventual loss of the business entirely.

  Of those people affected by any one of these types of identity theft, only 15% will find out about the fraud through proactive steps taken by an involved business or institution such as a creditor, police officer, or bank. Eighty-five percent will discover the theft on their own. Seventy percent of thieves are friends or family members of the victims; people who would have easy access to otherwise private information.

  In 2003, it was reported that 25% of all credit card theft was due to financial identity theft at a cost of 51.3 billion dollars. Ironically, however, despite such huge numbers, most thieves are not prosecuted because creditors find it is not cost effective. The lack of prosecution, and the increasing ways in which people can gain access to credit, makes identity theft a perfect crime—high reward and low risk. Often it only takes minimal consideration for a thief to cover his or her tracks and avoid any repercussions.

  So what can we do?

  The first thing we can do is protect ourselves:

  • Keep personal information as private as possible. Lock up birth certificates, passports, unused credit cards, and children’s Social Security cards. Only carry those items on your person that you must have, such as a driver’s license and the credit cards you use on a regular basis.

  • As often as possible, request electronic bills and statements rather than paper ones which can be intercepted through the mail or picked up from your desk by a visitor to your home.

  • Set up passwords required to log on your computer so that other people cannot gain easy access to information stored there.