At the event.
With Suzanne.
Using my name.
My husband had walked into a defense contractor reception impersonating me.
And someone had noticed.
Someone had replied to the follow-up email.
Tell Derek his wife is asking too many questions.
But I hadn’t asked any questions yet.
I was only just learning about it now.
So why would anyone think I was asking questions?
Unless Derek had told them I was.
Unless he was involved in something bigger than a stolen identity.
I called Marisol again.
“Derek was at the event.”
“What?”
“He attended as my guest. With Suzanne.”
“That’s impossible. He doesn’t have clearance.”
“He didn’t need clearance for a public reception. He just needed my name.”
Marisol was quiet.
Then she said, “Someone is feeding him information.”
“Yes.”
“And someone wanted to warn him that you were getting close.”
“But I wasn’t close. I didn’t know.”
“Exactly. So why warn him?”
I had no answer.
But I knew one thing.
I was going to find out.
The next morning, I drove to Derek’s mother’s house.
She lived in Coral Gables, in a small house with a white fence and a garden Derek had never helped maintain.
I parked across the street.
Suzanne’s car was in the driveway.
Derek’s truck was behind it.
I took a breath.
Then I walked up the path and knocked.
Suzanne opened the door.
Her face went pale.
“What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to Derek.”
“He’s not here.”
“His truck is in the driveway.”
Her jaw tightened.
Behind her, Derek’s voice called out, “Who is it?”
Suzanne tried to shut the door.
I put my hand on it.
“Derek,” I said loudly, “we need to talk about the contractor reception.”
Silence.
Then footsteps.
Derek appeared behind Suzanne.
His eyes were red. He looked like he hadn’t slept.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You attended a defense contractor event using my name.”
He didn’t deny it.
“That was a misunderstanding.”
“You impersonated me.”
“It was a mistake.”
“Who emailed you?”
His face flickered.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“The reply. ‘Tell Derek his wife is asking too many questions.’ Who sent that?”
He looked at Suzanne.
She looked away.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why did someone use my father’s name to register the account?”
His face went white.
Suzanne stepped back.
“That’s impossible,” Derek whispered.
“It happened. And you’re going to tell me who.”
He shook his head.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“Both.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then I said, “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You assaulted me. You stole my identity. You attended a secure event under false pretenses. You think that’s nothing?”
He said nothing.
Suzanne’s face crumpled.
I turned and walked away.
“Claire,” Derek called.
I didn’t stop.
“Claire, please.”
I kept walking.
I heard his footsteps behind me.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I stopped.
Turned.
“You’re sorry you got caught.”
“No. I’m sorry for everything.”
“Then tell me who sent that email.”
“I can’t.”
“Then we’re done.”
I got in my car and drove away.
The rearview mirror showed Derek standing in the middle of the street, watching me go.
I didn’t look back again.
That night, I received another email.
This time, it was not from an unknown account.
It was from my father’s old email.
The one my mother had cancelled.
The subject line was empty.
The body contained only three words:
Stay out.
I forwarded it to Major Han, Priya, Marisol, and Elise.
Then I called my mother.
“Mom, I need you to lock down everything. Change passwords. Freeze credit. Anything.”
“What’s happening?”
“Someone is using Dad’s identity to threaten me.”
Silence.
Then my mother said, “I’ll do it right now.”
“Thank you.”
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
I hung up.
The encrypted file from Elise was still open on my laptop.
I looked at the photograph again.
Derek and Suzanne at the reception.
Smiling.
Fake badges pinned to their collars.
And behind them, in the background, a man I didn’t recognize.
He was standing near a table of brochures.
Watching the camera.
Something about his face made my skin crawl.
I zoomed in.
He was wearing a lanyard.
The ID badge was partially visible.
I squinted.
The name read:
James Whitaker.
My grandfather’s name.
My father’s father.
Who had been dead for fifteen years.
The room spun.
I stared at the screen.
Someone had attended that event using my grandfather’s identity too.
Another piece of my family, stolen.
I picked up my phone.
Called Priya’s direct line.
She answered on the second ring.
“Colonel?”
“Someone in that photo is using my grandfather’s name.”
“Which photo?”
“The event. The background. A man in a gray suit.”
“Send it to me.”
I did.
Three minutes later, she called back.
“We’re running facial recognition.”
“How long?”
“A few hours.”
“I don’t have hours.”
“Then get some sleep.”
I laughed without humor.
Sleep was the last thing on my mind.
At 2:13 a.m., my phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
Just three words:
You should have listened.
