Chapter 2
“When are you due?”
Allison Jenkins smiled at her customer as she continued to scan groceries.
“Three months.”
“Your first?”
“Second. My oldest is eighteen months.”
The other woman, a fiftysomething with a kind expression, winced. “That’s close together. You won’t get much sleep for the next few years.”
Allison laughed. “I haven’t been sleeping for the past two, so I probably won’t notice.”
Yes, she was having her kids close together, but she was already thirty-four. Through a series of circumstances no one could have foreseen, she hadn’t been able to even think about having a baby until the last few years. Now that she was married to a great guy, she wasn’t putting off anything.
“It’s a girl,” she added happily. “We’re naming her Bethany.”
“Beautiful. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
Allison finished ringing up the order, then waited while the credit card payment processed before handing over the receipt. Thankfully she had a brief lull in her line. She took a second to try to stretch out her back. Only twenty more minutes until her shift ended, then she would collect Jackson and head home. Peter, her husband, had said he would be in client meetings until after seven. Summer, her stepdaughter, had mentioned dropping by with takeout. Most sixteen-year-olds preferred to hang out with their friends, but Summer was a sweet young woman who adored her half brother and looked for reasons to spend time with him. As Allison adored her, she was happy for the company. Not to mention the takeout. With a toddler and another on the way, money was tight. Plus, their rental house was being sold by the landlord, meaning they were saving to move right before the baby was due. Takeout was a treat.
Allison clocked out right on time and started the thirty-minute drive to pick up Jackson from his day care. Halfway there, she pulled into a gas station. She inserted her ATM card at the pump and waited for the machine to okay her purchase. Seconds later the keypad buzzed at her while displaying a single word. “Declined.”
Allison frowned, then tried the card again. The keypad buzzed a second time. That didn’t make any sense, she thought, knowing there was plenty of money in their checking account. She put in the credit card she tried never to use and it went through just fine.
After making a mental note to call the bank, she filled her tank. She pulled into the day care parking lot at her usual time and went to collect Jackson.
Her son spotted her instantly and beamed. He was a happy, friendly kid who liked everyone and was rarely moody. He’d been a cheerful baby and so far only had very mild toddler tantrums. She could only hope she was just as lucky with Bethany.
“Hey, you,” Liz, her friend and manager of the co-op day care, called. “Ready to take your little man home?”
“I am. How’d he do?”
Liz pressed a hand to her chest. “He was perfect. I wish they were all as good as him.”
The report wasn’t a surprise—Jackson did well with the other toddlers. He wasn’t yet fully playing with them, but he enjoyed the company and often watched the older kids doing things together.
Allison signed out her son, then crouched so she was at his level, her arms open wide.
“How’s my favorite boy?” she asked as he flung himself at her.
“Mama!”
He was warm and sturdy. His little hands held on tight. Love filled her, warming her from the inside. This, she thought fiercely. This child, this moment. She’d been so blessed.
He stepped back and patted her belly. “Bethany here.”
“She is. Just three more months.”
Three long months, she thought, knowing the worst of the pregnancy was still ahead of her. At least for now, she was able to sleep well and her back only hurt on days she worked at the grocery store. But before she knew it she would ache all the time and be counting the minutes until her baby was born.
The quick drive home was uneventful. She parked in the driveway of their small rental house before releasing Jackson from his car seat. Once they were inside, she changed his diaper then got out his favorite blocks and a toy bucket. She sat on the floor, across from him, and put the blocks in the bucket. Once Jackson was busy with the game of taking them out and throwing them on the carpet, she went to the banking app on her phone to find several alerts.
She opened the first one and stared in disbelief. She’d heard the phrase “She felt her heart stop beating” but had never experienced the sensation herself until this very second.
Your bank accounts have been frozen.
There was more writing and a phone number to call, but all she could see were those six horrible words.
Frozen? What did that mean? How could an account be frozen? Was that why her ATM card hadn’t worked?
Her stomach lurched as chills rushed through her. She felt herself starting to shake as she struggled to call the number on the notice. A recording walked her through the process of verifying her identity, then she had to wait seven minutes to get a representative.
While music played and a voice kept saying, “Due to unexpected call volumes, wait times are longer than usual,” she helped Jackson stack blocks and told herself there had to be a mistake. Everything would be fine. If the representative couldn’t help her, then Peter would handle everything when he got home.
Her husband was a numbers guy. He had his own accounting business. He knew about finance and investing and doing taxes. He was the smartest man she’d ever known—and he was college educated. No one in her family had ever gone. In the small town where she’d grown up, money had been tight for nearly every family she’d known, and going to college wasn’t something she and her friends ever considered. In her circles, only those lucky enough to earn sports scholarships or smart enough to be a superbrainiac went. Everyone else got by learning on the job or maybe by going to trade school or into a family business.
But Peter was different. His meeting tonight was with a potential new client. He was always doing things like that—finding new clients and growing the business. His now thriving company had been decimated by his divorce. Not only had his horrible first wife, Erica, taken her business away, but she’d bad-mouthed him all over town. He’d had to start from practically nothing. But he’d done it because Peter always did what was right. He worked hard and he loved her. Of that she was sure.
“This is Mia at Northwest Bank of the Pacific. How can I help you?”
Allison clutched her phone tightly. “I’m having a problem with my account. I have a notice that it’s frozen. I don’t even know what that means. What’s going on?”
Despite her fear and sense of panic, she was careful to keep her voice calm. Jackson played happily next to her and she didn’t want to upset him.
“All right, Mrs. Jenkins, give me a second and I’ll—”
She paused. “Oh. Well, yes, you’re right. Your accounts are frozen. There’s not a lot of information here. It seems the Treasury Department notified our bank about an investigation. That’s all I know. If you want more details, you should talk to your branch manager.”
“I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
“Every account you have with us is frozen and until we’re told to release the money, you won’t have access to it.”
What? No! “You can’t do that. It’s our money. Our paychecks. We need that money for rent and food. You can’t just take it from us.”
The customer service representative’s voice tightened. “We haven’t taken it, ma’am. The accounts are going to be locked until they’re released by the government. That’s all I know. I’m sorry. You might want to talk to a lawyer.”
A lawyer? Like she had one on retainer? “I need to get groceries and diapers. How do I pay for that?”
The representative sounded uncomfortable. “I can’t answer that. There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”
Sorry? She was sorry? Allison fought tears. This wasn’t happening—it couldn’t be. “But it’s our money,” she repeated. “You have no right to keep it from us.”
“I’m afraid we do. When there’s illegal activity, we have to—”
“Illegal activity?” Allison’s voice came out in a shriek.
Jackson stared at her wide-eyed. “Mama?”
She forced a smile. “I’m okay, sweetie. Sorry. It’s fine.”
“Talk to your branch manager,” the representative said. “I really can’t help you with this. I’m sorry.”
The line went dead.
Allison dropped the phone on the carpet. She was beyond scared. Her stomach roiled, and her breathing was shallow. Terror gripped her. Their money was gone? Maybe not permanently, but it was unavailable now? That couldn’t be legal. Everything the representative had told her had to be wrong.
She grabbed her phone and pushed the button to call Peter. He wouldn’t want to be disturbed while with a new client but this couldn’t wait. Her call went directly to voicemail.
“Peter, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this. Something’s really wrong. Our bank accounts are frozen.” She brushed away tears. “Peter, call me.”
She followed the call with a text urging him to call her right away. Once it was sent, she waited for the small “Delivered” to appear, but it didn’t. Had Peter turned off his phone? He never did. He would silence it for a meeting, but that was all.
“Mama?”
She smiled at Jackson. “Let’s go play in the backyard for a few minutes.”
Anything to occupy herself until Peter called.
She rose to her feet and helped Jackson to his. Her stomach continued to churn. Her heart thundered in her chest and fear clutched her so tight, she could barely breathe. She couldn’t begin to imagine what was going on with the bank. Nothing made sense. Obviously there had been a mistake, but until she talked to Peter, she wasn’t sure what to do.
She and Jackson took turns chasing each other. She helped him roll the big ball they kept for him. After a few minutes he stopped and looked at her.
“Hungry now.”
“I know, sweetie. I’ll start dinner.”
She spoke automatically only to realize she wasn’t making dinner. Her stepdaughter was bringing takeout.
She pulled out her phone, trying to remember when Summer had said she would stop by. Maybe there was time to tell her not to bother. No way could Allison make pleasant conversation while freaking out about what was or wasn’t happening with the bank.
But before she could text her stepdaughter, she had an incoming call from an unfamiliar number.
“Let it be the bank!” she murmured. “Hello?”
“Will you accept a collect call from SeaTac Federal Detention Center?”
The voice was mechanical, followed by a pause, then “Peter Jenkins,” in Peter’s voice.
“What?”
At first her mind went blank as she tried to process the information. Federal Detention Center? Was that like jail?
The mechanical voice began again. “Will you accept—”
She gripped her phone, tears burning in her eyes. “Yes. Yes! Peter? Peter? Are you there?”
There were several clicks, then a message stating “This call is being recorded” followed by a hoarse, “Allison?”
She dropped to her knees, unmindful of the damp grass. “Peter? Where are you? What’s going on? I tried to call. Our bank accounts are frozen. They have it all and when I called, they wouldn’t tell me anything. Peter?”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was ragged as if he’d been crying. Which wasn’t possible. Her husband never cried.
“I’m so sorry,” he continued. “God, I never wanted this to happen. I wanted to take care of you.”
Jackson tugged on her sleeve. “Hungry, Mama.”
“I know,” she said. “Just a minute.” She shifted away from him. “Why did you call me collect? Where are you?”
She heard the sound of a sob. “I’ve been arrested. I’m sorry. I thought I had more time. This isn’t—” His voice crackled. “Allison, listen to me. I’m going to figure this out. I love you so much and I would never hurt you.”
She heard a loud buzzing followed by the sensation of the world falling away. She had a feeling that if she’d been standing, she would have fainted.
“Arrested?” She could barely speak the word, let alone comprehend it. “You’re in jail?”
“Yes. I’m working on getting a lawyer. It’s going to take a bit.”
“But why? You didn’t—” She tried to make sense of what he was saying. “Did you commit a crime?”
“No. It’s a misunderstanding. Things got complicated and there was some confusion with a few accounts. I’ll get it straightened out. You have to believe me.”
She did. He was her husband and she loved him. He’d never been anything but honest with her, with their money, his business. “But you’re in jail and the banks have frozen our accounts.”
“I know. I’m sorry about that.”
Sorry? That was it? “Peter, I have to pay rent and buy food. We’re nearly out of diapers. How am I supposed to do that?” She touched her belly where Bethany had decided to practice her soccer kicks. “I’m pregnant. Are you telling me you’re in jail and I’m pregnant?”
Her voice rose with every word until she was nearly shrieking.
In the background all she heard was Peter saying he was sorry.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll have answers by then, I swear. I didn’t think this would happen so fast. I wasn’t ready. But I’ll make it up to you. I love you, Allison. You and Jackson and Bethany. You’re my world. I’ll make this right.”
And then he was gone. She stared at her phone, unable to process what was happening. None of this could be real. She had to—
The sound of Jackson’s sobs broke through to her. Her son stood in front of her crying and pointing at her. She touched her face and realized she was crying, too. She hadn’t known. Obviously her shrieking and tears had frightened him, which made two of them.
She lumbered to her feet, then picked up Jackson and held him tight.
“I’m sorry,” she said, walking back into the house. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay. We’re okay.”
A lie, but what else was there to say to her eighteen-month-old?
In the small kitchen, she set him on the counter, then lightly touched his nose.
“What’s that?”
Jackson stared at her, wide-eyed. “Dada.”
Her body tensed. “Your dad’s busy. He won’t be home for a while.”
Jackson shook his head, then pointed toward the front door. “Dada.” He drew in a breath for a full-throated howl. “Dada!”
She reached for him, but he shrank back.
“Dada!”
“He’s not here. He’s not coming home.” Not tonight and who knew how many nights after that.
The truth of that statement slammed into her. Peter wasn’t coming home because he was in jail. He’d been charged with some crime that was serious enough to cause their bank accounts to be frozen. He’d been arrested and she had no idea why. He’d talked about getting a lawyer. Could he do that from jail? What happened after that? The only thing she knew about people going to jail and to trial was from TV and movies. That sort of thing simply didn’t happen to anyone she knew.
The panic returned, along with fear and trouble breathing. No! she thought frantically. She couldn’t have a panic attack. She had to take care of Jackson. She was fine. She could breathe.
She made herself consciously inhale and exhale, but the sensation of the air going anywhere but her lungs only got stronger. She was alone with a toddler, she was pregnant, and she had no money or way to talk to her husband. She didn’t even know where he was. Okay, yes, SeaTac Federal Detention Center, but where was that? And while she wanted to believe this was as bad as it was going to get, she was afraid it would get worse.
What was she supposed to do? How could she protect herself and Jackson while helping Peter? Should she call a lawyer? Should—
Jackson began to cry again. As she gasped to suck in air, she wrapped her arms around him. He hung on to her, sobbing so hard his little body shook. She gave in to her own tears, crying just as loudly.
Ten more seconds, she promised herself, then she would pull it together. At least the act of crying had eased her panicky feeling.
She and Jackson clung to each other. Allison told herself she’d gotten through worse, but nothing in her past had prepared her for this.
“It’s me!”
Allison looked up in time to see her stepdaughter walking into the house. It was a straight shot from the front door, through the open living room to the kitchen—something she’d always liked about the small rental, although less so now. There was nowhere to hide, no way to keep Summer from seeing her and Jackson.
The sixteen-year-old’s smile faded instantly. She hurried forward, set the takeout on the table, then reached for Jackson.
“Summy!”
He held out his arms as she pulled him close. Summer rubbed his back, but her attention stayed on Allison.
“What’s wrong?”
Allison wiped her face and did her best to fake a smile. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just, you know, ah, pregnancy hormones. I started crying, then he started crying.” She waved her hand. “You know how it goes.”
Summer, tall and slim in that way of teenage girls, stared at her intently. “You’re lying.” Her tone was flat. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Allison had always admired Summer’s honesty and fearlessness when it came to confronting emotions. Today, however, she found that characteristic incredibly inconvenient.
“We’re fine.”
Summer’s eye roll told Allison she hadn’t been convincing, but honest to God, she was too exhausted to try again.
“Look, this isn’t a good time for us,” she said bluntly. “Why don’t you take the food and go home? I’ll make something for Jackson and we’ll have an early night.”
“That’s not happening.”
Summer carried Jackson to the bathroom. Seconds later Allison heard running water.
“Let the water get a little warm,” Summer said, her voice cheerful. “Uh-huh. We are washing our hands together. This is fun. Are you hungry? I think you’re going to love dinner.”
Obviously the teen wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Allison gave in to the inevitable. She blew her nose, then washed her own hands. Once that was done, she unpacked the meal. Summer had gone to their favorite Mexican place and ordered for what seemed like twenty. There were a dozen chicken street tacos, along with a huge salad with chopped vegetables and avocado, and sliced oranges on the side. One container was full of rice, another, pinto beans. There were two trays of enchiladas, and the quesadilla Jackson liked.
Summer returned with Jackson on her hip. “Someone’s hungry.”
Allison tried to smile. “You or your brother?”
“Probably both of us.”
Summer set Jackson in his high chair, then collected plates from the cupboard. She put chicken from a taco on a plate, then tore a quesadilla wedge into small pieces. She added a few of the diced raw vegetables and two orange slices.
When she’d placed the food in front of Jackson, she glanced at Allison. “Did you want to get his milk?”
“What? Oh, right. Sure.”
Allison poured whole milk into a sippy cup and gave it to her son. She grabbed a bottle of some weird fruit-coconut drink that Summer kept in their fridge and handed it to her stepdaughter. She poured herself water as Summer stuck the enchiladas in the refrigerator.
“Those will heat up great for lunch or dinner tomorrow.”
Allison couldn’t imagine ever feeling well enough to eat, but nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
At least that part was true, she thought. Summer was always like that—bringing extra food or little gifts. She was thoughtful and kind.
When Allison had first started dating Peter, he’d told her horror stories about his cold, cruel ex-wife. The details had been so vivid, she’d been terrified to meet his daughter. But Summer was apparently nothing like her mother. From the first second, she’d been so sweet and caring. She’d been thrilled when Allison had gotten pregnant and even more delighted when baby Jackson had been born. She was the perfect stepdaughter. Peter was rightfully proud of her. He—
Without warning, the tears returned. She tried to blink them away but they flowed down her cheeks. She mumbled something and raced the few feet to the bedroom she and Peter shared. But before she could close the door, Summer was right there next to her.
“There is something,” the teen said, her voice low. “I knew it.” Worry darkened her brown eyes. “What is it? Are you feeling all right?” She went pale. “Is it Bethany?”
“It’s not the baby.”
Jackson called out. “Summy! Eat!”
“He shouldn’t be alone,” Summer said. “But after dinner, you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”
Allison nodded, not sure how she was going to come up with a convincing lie. And if she didn’t, she was going to have to tell Summer that her father was in jail and she didn’t have a clue as to why.