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Then he asked her for the password associated with the account. She gave it to him.
“I’m sorry. That password is incorrect.”
“What?” The word came out so high-pitched it was almost a screech.
“Yes, it looks like you called in to change it three days ago.”
“I never called! That wasn’t me.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t discuss your account details unless I have the password.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Someone obviously hacked my account. They stole thirty thousand dollars from me and you’re going to sit there and tell me you can’t do anything about it?”
“Ma’am, there’s no need for profanity. I can transfer you to the fraud and consumer protections department.”
“Yes.” She nodded her head vehemently. “Do that. Transfer me there.”
Forty-five minutes later, she’d been transferred three more times and told that the best way for her to clear up her identity was to just “come in person to a local branch location,” she wanted to scream.
When she’d tried to explain she couldn’t do that and they started asking questions that had her chest tightening, she could tell that they’d all suspected she was the fraud. Fucking infuriating.
At least the last lady had good advice—she said Sloane should run a credit check on herself and freeze her credit while she was at it.
Which was when Sloane found out that her credit score was at an insane low of 323. Tens of thousands of dollars in credit cards had been taken out in her name. All within the past month.
She finally just had to hang up the phone when she started feeling the beginnings of a panic attack.
It was the first she’d had in months. She glanced toward the stairs and shuddered, then leaned over and put her hands on her knees, head between her legs.
“Breathe,” she whispered hoarsely to herself. Shit. Why hadn’t she paid better attention back when her grandma was still dragging her to therapy back in California. She’d learned methods for calming herself down when the panic attacks hit, but right now, her mind went blank except for the terrifying thought—no money, no safety net. It was all gone. Gone.
Sloane’s breath just hiccupped and the next second she clawed at her throat, feeling like she was going to die if she didn’t get another breath.
Awesome. If she died right here, then it wouldn’t matter that she didn’t have a penny to her name.
A hysterical laugh burst out of her and with it, a much needed gasp of air.
Okay. Okay. She shook her head, standing up and pacing again. Everything would be okay. People had their identity stolen all the time. There was probably a process to follow. Orderly steps she could take.
She just needed to calm down and find out what they were.
She bunched her clammy hands into fists and tried to breathe. Oh shit, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe—
All right, screw calming down. Plan B. She’d distract herself until she could think more rationally.
The groceries! She could bring the groceries and put them away. Organizing things always made her feel better.
She managed a deep gulp of breath and headed for the front door. She did not look toward the stairs. She was trying to calm herself down, after all.
Flinging the door open, she was immediately hit by a blast of freezing air. Damn, it was cold out there. The large box of groceries was waiting on her stoop as expected. Sloane pulled her flimsy silk kimono tighter around her as another gust of freezing wind smacked her in the face. Brrrrrrrrr. Frickin’ freezing.
On the bright side, it was bracing enough to distract her and she was breathing a little more regularly.
See? She’d get past this. Just like always.
Life threw shit at her, she maneuvered her way around it. Shit-ducker. That was her M.O.
She glanced around the dark yard as she bent over to grab the box. In the little bit of light from the house, she could make out icy patches all over the ground where the early snow from a couple days ago had melted and then refrozen. And it was snowing again.
She’d have to start calling Tom to shovel soon. Otherwise the UPS man wouldn’t be able to get to her front door. It was only mid-November but come January and February, the snow could get up to a couple feet high. Plus, it looked like winter was coming early this year.
Sloane shivered. She hated winter.
She grabbed the furthest edge of the box of groceries and started pulling it in across the threshold of the doorway. Or trying to, anyway. Damn, it was heavy today. What had she ordered? Barbells? She thought for a second. Potatoes, actually. It was probably the potatoes.
With a huff of frustration, she leaned over and yanked on the box with one big pull. It slid suddenly over the threshold, knocking her off her feet. She landed hard on her ass. She slumped back on the floor and banged the back of her head against the ground. The perfect end to a perfect day.
