She grabbed my forearms, her fingers digging deep into my skin through my wet jacket.

“Ava, thank God,” she gasped, her breath smelling of mint and gin. “You have to tell them. You have to fix this.”

“He stole my identity, Mom,” I said, pulling my arms back from her grip. “He took my inheritance and used my name to open those lines of credit.”

“It was just a mistake,” she pleaded, her voice rising to a frantic pitch. “He was in trouble. He owed people money, terrible people from the city. They were threatening him.”

My father walked down the steps, his phone finally tucked into his coat pocket.

“Inside,” he said, his voice a low, commanding growl that brooked no argument. “Both of you. Now.”

Arthur stepped forward, holding the umbrella over my head. “Mr. Parker, I am here as Ava’s attorney. I advise you to speak very carefully.”

My father glared at Arthur, his jaw tightening so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. “This is a family matter, Pendelton. Get off my property.”

“Actually, Richard, it is a federal criminal matter,” Arthur replied. “And Ava is the victim.”