Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN ON THE CAMERA
The credit union meeting lasted twenty-three minutes.
The realization lasted much longer.
Marissa sat beside a compliance officer named Paul.
A laptop faced us.
Callum had asked to come.
I told him no.
Claire came instead.
Paul opened security footage from March 11.
The image was grainy.
A woman entered the Maple Street branch at 10:06 a.m.
She wore sunglasses, a cream coat, and a scarf wrapped high around her neck.
She was approximately my height.
Same general build.
Blonde hair beneath a knit cap.
She approached a desk.
She handed over documents.
The camera angle shifted.
My heart stopped.
I knew that coat.
I had given it to Deline two Christmases earlier after ordering the wrong size.
Claire leaned closer.
“Do you recognize her?”
“Yes.”
My voice sounded distant.
“My sister-in-law.”
Marissa did not react.
Paul paused the video.
On the screen, Deline removed her sunglasses.
There was no uncertainty left.
“What identification did she use?”
Claire asked.
Paul slid a photocopy across the table.
It showed my driver’s license.
Not a fake license.
Mine.
The photograph.
The number.
My old signature.
Then I remembered.
The previous February, Callum’s mother had organized a family ski weekend.
I had left my wallet in the guest room overnight.
The next morning, it was in a different pocket of my bag.
I had blamed myself.
“Did the teller compare the photograph?”
Claire asked.
Paul looked uncomfortable.
“The employee involved no longer works here.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
I stared at Deline’s frozen image.
She had not merely pressured Callum.
She had pretended to be me.
She had walked into a bank wearing my old coat with my license in her hand and signed my name.
Something inside me became very quiet.
Marissa closed the laptop.
“We are referring this internally for further investigation.”
“Will the credit line remain frozen?”
“Yes.”
“For now.”
I nodded.
Claire asked for copies according to the preservation process.
Outside, snow had started again.
I stood beneath the credit union awning and called Callum.
He answered immediately.
“What happened?”
I looked at the traffic moving along Maple Street.
“Your sister impersonated me at the bank.”
Silence.
Then one whispered word.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“I watched the video.”
Another silence.
This one lasted twelve seconds.
Then Callum said the sentence that finally destroyed whatever protection he still offered her.
May you like
“My mother knew.”
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