Caleb.
“It’s a joint account.” My voice trembles. “Who emptied it?”
Samson taps a few buttons and pulls up the final transaction. “The account was emptied last week by your husband, Caleb. Perhaps you should speak to him.”
The words float across the screen as I stare hard at them until they warp through the tears building in my eyes. “But… no, that can’t be right. He needs my… he needs my signature to empty it and he’s not my husband.”
“He had it.”
“What?” I lock eyes with Samson. “He didn’t. I never would have agreed to that!”
“It’s right here.” Samson presses another few buttons and a scan of the agreement flashes up on the screen, complete with Caleb’s signature and my own.
“That’s not my signature!”
Samson frowns slightly. “Are you sure? He had the appropriate ID with him when he arrived and everything went smoothly.”
“No, no, hold on. When I was here a few months ago, I was told that I couldn’t remove all my funds from this account without Caleb being here in person and he refused to come. Now you’re telling me that he was able to clear out the entire account with a fake signature and no one thought that was suspicious?”
“Miss Montoya?—”
“No! Look, that’s not even the same picture!” I slam my hand down on the ID I gave Samson and thrust it next to the photocopy of the clearly fake ID Caleb brought with him. “It’s not the same!”
Samson’s brow dips and then his lips press into a thin line. “Why don’t I call him, and we can sort this out?”
“You can’t call him!” I yell, stumbling out of my seat. “He’s dead! And you let him steal all of my money! I’m going to call the cops, do you understand? I’m going to have you all arrested, I’m going tosueyou, do you hear me? How could you let this happen?”
“Miss Montoya, please calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down? You let my ex rob me andI’mthe one who has to calm down? All of my money, all of my work, gone because your stupid employees can’t tell the difference between a?—”
Tears choke me and I cough. “A fake ID and a real one. Oh, my God…”
Sinking back into my chair, I dissolve into floods of tears as the hopelessness becomes all too much.
All that money, gone.
My trip to see my parents is dust in the wind.
Caleb went to all the trouble of getting a fake ID to clear out our account the day before he died.
There’s no way to tell where that money ended up.
After a brief moment of silence, Samson offers me a box of tissues and I sob into handfuls of them.
“I will personally look into this, Miss Montoya. If what you claim is true, then those responsible will be reprimanded and I will do everything I can to return your funds to you.”
“What I claim?” I croak weakly, peering at him over the top of my tissues. “You act like you don’t believe me.”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” he replies quietly. “What matters is what we can prove and what we can trace.”
“Whatever.” Dejected, I stand slowly and grab my ID from his desk. “He took that money in cash. We both know I’m not getting it back.”
Turning my back, I trudge out of his office and out of the bank, not stopping until I’m at the end of the street with cars flying past as if the ice on the roads is just a rumor.
How could he do this?
How could he take all of my money just like that?
