“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said. I glanced down at his desk and Trent glanced down, too.

“Right,” he said. “Okay, how about Tarbell’s on Camelback on March ninth?”

“Nope.”

“Pizzeria Bianco downtown on the thirteenth?”

“Never been there.”

“That’s a pity. You should check it out. Do you still have your card?” Trent asked.

“As far as I know, it’s in my wallet,” I said. “Do you want me to go get it?”

“Yes, please.”

I hurried from Trent’s office back to my own. I opened the door and rushed to my desk. Even knowing I hadn’t made those charges, I felt sick to my stomach. How could this have happened? Had I lost it? Had it been stolen? I opened my wallet. Sitting right in its place was the business credit card. I thought I might throw up.

I took the card back to Trent. Sheepishly, I handed it over and he examined it against the balance sheet as if he thought it was an imposter.

“It’s your card all right,” he said. He scratched his head as if boggled. It was clear. Somehow I’d been hacked.

“Annabelle, it’s not that I don’t believe you—” he began but I interrupted.

“But it seems weird since I’ve never used it,” I said. “How did someone get the number?”

“Good question. Do you remember where you were on those evenings?” he asked.

I tried to remember. “Home alone, out in the desert watching a meteor shower, and—” I paused. I’d been having mind-blowing sex with Nick on that third date. This was not something I planned to share for a variety of reasons. “Again, home.”

“Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts during those evenings?” he asked. He sounded hopeful then quickly clarified. “For the credit card company.”

“No,” I said. I was not dragging Nick into this. Full stop.

“It’s clear someone made fast and loose with your card, repeatedly,” Trent said, and sighed. “I’ll cancel this card and have them issue you a new one.”

“No,” I said. I studied his face, wondering if he’d hear me out. “Listen, I don’t know what happened but I promise you, I haven’t used my card, not once, so there’s no way a stranger hacked my number.”

“What are you saying, Annabelle?”

“I think it was someone in-house,” I said. His eyes narrowed. He didn’t like that any more than I did. “Is there any way we can put an alert on it, so that when it’s used, it will tell us when and where?”

“I can track it online,” he said. “The credit card company will flag suspicious charges, but you’d have to be in Paris or something to trigger that.”

I rather wished I was in Paris at the moment. Paris is always a good idea, after all.