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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?”
