2. The Slip That Started It All

The next morning, cold and exhausted, I drove to a small inn near downtown Boulder. The place smelled of coffee and cedar wood and seemed modest enough that they wouldn’t run a thorough background check. “How many nights?” the receptionist asked. “Just one,” I said. He swiped the card reader toward me. My fingers hovered over the zipper of my purse. I swallowed hard, pulled out the metal card, and inserted it.

For two seconds, nothing happened. Then the receptionist’s eyes widened. “Um… ma’am? Just a second.”

He picked up a phone from under the counter. A chill ran down my spine. Had I been turned away? Had I been robbed? What if I was about to be arrested? I gripped the counter. “Is… there a problem?” He lowered his voice. “I’m not sure. The system just ticked something.” “Ticked?” He nodded nervously and went into the back room.

My breathing quickened. This was a mistake; I should have sold my wedding ring, found a cheap Airbnb, anything but use mysterious metal cards given to me by dying parents. The employee returned, blushing. “Someone will be coming out to speak with you.” “Someone?”

Before I could answer, the lobby door opened. A tall man in a gray suit entered. He looked like he belonged in a federal building, not a rustic inn. He scanned the room, found me, and approached with quick, precise steps. “Mrs. Carter?” My heart stopped. “Yes?” He flashed me a badge. U.S. Treasury Liaison – High Asset Financial Security Division. What? “My name is Agent Donovan Pierce. Can we speak privately?”