The Last Lesson Was Losing Me novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Fraud Unit

Jo reports Wylie's transfer in front of his whole fraud team, gets her money back, and gets a text that her old job offer is still open.

Wylie's bank had a poster in the lobby that said, in letters a foot tall: IF IT FEELS TOO EASY, IT'S A SCAM.

On Monday at 9:10 I walked under it and asked the first teller I saw for the fraud unit.

"Do you have an appointment?" she said.

"No. I'd like to report a fraud."

She looked at my face, then picked up her phone.

The fraud unit was an open room upstairs with eight desks and glass walls.

A whiteboard still read SCAM AWARENESS WEEK: DEBRIEF in Wylie's handwriting.

He was at the corner desk with his sleeves rolled, laughing at something on his screen.

Bailey sat on the edge of the desk beside him with a green smoothie, swinging one foot.

Neither of them saw me until the teller said, "Mr. Calverley? There's someone here to report a fraud."

Wylie looked up.

For one second he looked glad to see me.

"Jo," he said. "You came. I knew you'd come."

"I'm here to report a transfer," I said, loud enough for the whole room.

"Eleven thousand four hundred dollars left my savings Saturday night."

"I didn't authorize it."

The room got quiet.

Two investigators at the next desks turned their chairs.

"Jo, don't," Wylie said, standing. "We can talk about this in the car."

"I'm not getting in your car."

Bailey slid off the desk. "Jo, honey. It's a safety hold."

"Wylie moved it so no one could take it from you while you were upset. It's the kindest thing."

"It's in his account," I said. "Not a safe. His savings."

"It's only until you calm down," Bailey said, and she put a hand on my arm.

I looked at her hand until she took it away.

A woman in a gray blazer came out of the glass office at the back.

She stood at the edge of the floor with her arms folded.

She was the unit manager, and she had heard every word.

"Mr. Calverley," she said. "My office, please. Ms. Marlow, come with me."

Wylie didn't move.

"It's a joint account," he said. "I'm the primary. I've managed her money for two years, with her consent."

"Did you consent?" the manager asked me.

"I signed what he put in front of me. He said it was a form the bank required."

Wylie's ears went red.

"Pull up the deposit history," I said. "Every deposit in that account came from me."

"My tutoring checks from before I quit to study. My birthday money. Two years of it."

"He never put in a dollar."

The manager sat at the nearest desk and typed for about a minute.

Nobody in the room breathed loudly.

Then she turned the screen a few degrees away from the glass, read it, and looked at Wylie.

"Every deposit is Ms. Marlow's," she said.

"And the transfer out was made from your login, Mr. Calverley. To your own savings, on a Saturday night."

"It was a protective measure," he said.

"It was a transfer by an employee to himself from a customer's funds," she said. "Do you teach that one in the training?"

Somebody at the back of the room made a small noise that might have been a laugh.

Then, from a desk by the window, a young investigator started to clap.

One slow clap.

He stopped when he realized whose desk it was.

I knew that sound.

I had heard it in Room 214 on Saturday, five people clapping for my face.

This time I wasn't the one it was for.

"Reversing it now," the manager said.

"Ms. Marlow, it will land in your account within the hour."

"I'll also have a cashier's check ready in my office, if you'd like it in hand."

She turned to Wylie.

"Mr. Calverley, you will not touch her file again. Not from home, and not from your phone."

"Come on," Wylie said to the manager. "She's my girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend," I said.

I had never said it out loud before.

Wylie stared at me.

"You're doing this in front of my whole team," he said, quieter.

His voice cracked in the middle.

"After everything I did to keep you safe."

"You did a lot of things to me," I said. "I'm counting the one where you moved my money."

Bailey had gone pink, and she stepped between us with her hands up.

"Everyone, please. This is a family matter. Jo, you're so upset, let me drive you home, I have the car."

"I don't need a ride, Bailey."

"Of course you do. You're upset."

"I'm not upset," I said. "I'm leaving."

Bailey tugged her cardigan sleeve down over her left wrist and kept her hand there.

I didn't think anything of it.

I was looking at the door.

I got my cashier's check.

It was in a plain white envelope, and my hands steadied once I was holding it.

On the way out I passed the poster again and my phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text from Lindy.

Your old job offer is still open.

I told HR you were thinking it over.

Orientation is a week from today. Train is 6:10.

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