Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Thought I Was ConfusedJared arrived the next morning.
He didn't come alone.
His expression told me he hadn't slept.
“Dad.”
He hugged me tightly.
Then looked around my apartment.
The broken radiator.
The peeling paint.
The tiny space heater.
The empty refrigerator.
He looked ashamed.
“How long has it been like this?”
“Almost a year.”
“A year?”
I nodded.
He stared at the kitchen.
“You told me you were okay.”
“I didn't want you worrying.”
His jaw tightened.
“I thought Lauren was taking care of everything.”
“I know.”
He sat down.
I placed the folder between us.
“Your wife told you I lived in a senior residence.”
“Yes.”
“She showed you photographs?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever visit?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“She said you were embarrassed about your condition.”
I looked at him.
“My condition?”
“She said your memory problems made visits difficult.”
I laughed once.
Jared looked hurt.
“I believed her.”
“I know.”
He covered his face.
“I should have checked.”
“You were busy.”
“I was busy because I thought you were safe.”
I nodded.
“That was the point.”
He looked up.
“What?”
“Your wife made sure you believed I was safe.”
I opened the folder.
“Look.”
He studied the statements.
His face changed.
“That's my account.”
“Yes.”
“Those are the payments.”
“Yes.”
“Where did they go?”
“That's the question.”
He pointed at the company name.
“Whittaker Senior Living Services?”
“I've never lived there.”
“Maybe she paid for a private arrangement.”
“Then why have I never seen the facility?”
He had no answer.
I handed him another document.
“Look at this.”
His eyes widened.
“That's the medical payment.”
“Yes.”
“Dad, Lauren told me you had surgery.”
“I didn't.”
He stared at me.
“What?”
“I didn't have surgery.”
Jared stood up.
“She told me you had a cardiac procedure.”
“I had a routine checkup.”
He started pacing.
“What the hell?”
“That's what I said.”
Then he stopped.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“There's something else.”
He pulled out his phone.
He opened a folder.
“Lauren sent me monthly reports.”
I looked at them.
Each report showed expenses supposedly spent on my care.
Rent.
Food.
Medical treatment.
Transportation.
Private nursing.
The total was almost $8,000 every month.
I looked at Jared.
“Did you ever verify any of this?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She handled everything.”
I sighed.
“That's how fraud works.”
He looked sick.
Then his phone buzzed.
Lauren.
He didn't answer.
She called again.
He rejected it.
Then a message appeared.
Please don't let your father manipulate you. His memory problems are getting worse.
Jared looked at me.
“She's saying you're manipulating me.”
I smiled sadly.
“That's convenient.”
Another message arrived.
Dad has been confused for months. He's becoming paranoid.
Jared's face hardened.
“She knew we'd find this.”
“Probably.”
He looked at me.
“What do we do?”
I stood.
“We don't accuse her yet.”
“Why?”
“Because we don't know everything.”
I picked up my coat.
“Where are you going?”
“To the bank.”
“Again?”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“To the county records office.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Why?”
“Because money leaves records.”
May you like
I smiled.
“But property leaves records too.”
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