“Rachel? Are you still there?” Claire’s voice crackled through the phone speaker.

“I’m here,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Claire, I went to Margaret’s funeral. I held my mother’s hand while they lowered the casket into the ground.”

“Then someone is using a ghost identity,” Claire said. “And they have your administrative password to the benefits portal.”

My mind raced through the possibilities.

Only a few people knew the security questions I used for my recovery accounts.

“What address is listed on the direct deposit change?” I asked.

I pulled a plastic pitcher of water closer to me, my hand shaking so hard the ice rattled against the sides.

“A post office box in Richmond,” Claire said. “But the IP address used to log into the system is local to you.”

“It’s my father,” I said. “Or my mother. They’re at my house right now.”

“We need to flag this as active identity theft,” Claire said. “But because it’s a military portal, the freeze will take forty-eight hours to clear the system.”