Page 26 of Innocent Intent

“Detective Davis.”

“Good afternoon, Detective. This is Angel Diaz.”

“Ms. Diaz, yes. You have something for me?”

“I do. It took a little digging, but it seems that the names and Socials you provided are valid but shouldn’t be in circulation.”

Davis noticed Cassidy’s expression turn to frustration as she leaned closer to the woman at the customer service desk, who was nodding quickly before she rounded it and hurried away.

“I don’t follow,” he muttered, focusing on his call once more.

“Both Socials match the respective names. However, the numbers are from deceased infants. Williams was born on August 2, 1989, and passed away from SIDS on November 13, 1989. Same with Niles Anderson, born June 8, 1987. He died of SIDS on October 4, 1987.”

“Shit. The sick bastard took the identity of dead kids,” he murmured more to himself than to Diaz.

“Seems that way.”

“You sure?”

“Completely. Both deaths were recorded with the hospital, and obituaries are in the papers, but neither the funeral home nor the parents reported the deaths to the SSI offices.”

“No one checked.”

“Apparently not. It happens. The death of a child is hard enough, so I can see how reporting the loss of your child to the SSI office isn’t really a priority. The parents were likely grieving, trying to make sense of things, and not all funeral homes are efficient. They also forget all about the families they service after the checks clear. If no parents or loved ones apply for survivors benefits, then it makes sense that the deaths were never reported, leaving the numbers and identities active and available for—”

“For any heartless asshole that wants to take it over.”

“Exactly.”

“Can I get you to email that over to the office for me?”

“Sure thing. I have the address you provided. It will be on the way as soon as I hang up.”

“Thanks.”

A few minutes after Davis ended the call, he noticed Cassidy leaving the bank. She wore a look of frustration and came out empty-handed. He quickly navigated to the camera app on his phone and captured a few shots of the highly irritated suspect walking to her vehicle and then sliding behind the steering wheel. A few moments of Cassidy slamming her fist down on that same steering wheel passed before she started the car and backed out of the space, driving aggressively out of the bank’s parking lot.

“What the hell were you in there looking for, and why didn’t they hand it over to you?” Davis mumbled to himself before he lifted the warrant, opened his glove box, and removed a pair of latex gloves and a clear evidence bag from the box he kept on hand. He climbed out of his vehicle, folded the gloves and bag into the breast pocket of his jacket, and navigated to the door. Once inside, he walked to the same customer service desk where Cassidy had been, plastered on a smile, and greeted the young woman sitting below him.

“Welcome to Capital Bank. How can I help you today, sir?”

This was a rare occasion where Davis actually had on a sports coat, so he pushed it out of the way and pointed to his shield affixed to his pants. “The woman who just left, Cassidy Evans. What was she here for?”

The bank associate’s eyes darted around as if she wasn’t sure how to respond. Davis moved closer, leaning over her desk.

“I’m a detective. You can tell me.” He tapped his badge with two fingers, and she slumped her shoulders, conspicuously looking around again before responding.

“She asked about a safe deposit box.”

So she knows. Interesting.

“Under the name Jerrod Williams?”

The woman’s brows pinched as she nodded. “Yes. She said she was married to the guy, and when I asked for identification, the one she gave me didn’t match his name. When I looked up the account, she wasn’t listed as the wife. I couldn’t give her access without something official or his permission.”

“Official, like a warrant?” Davis flashed a charming smile, and she returned a flirtatious one, nodding.

“Yes, a warrant would work.

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