Chapter 1 - The Suitcase in the LobbyMy parents told Grandma Corinne they were taking her out for lunch.
My Parents Told Grandma They Were Taking Her Out for Lunch. Three Hours Later, a Nursing Facility Called Me. Her Suitcase Was Waiting in Their Lobby, and My Parents Had Disappeared.
Three hours later, I received a call from a nursing facility in Ohio.
"Is this Marcus Alden?" the woman asked. "Your grandmother listed you as her emergency contact. Her suitcase is sitting in our lobby, but the relatives who brought her here left before the admission process was finished."
I was standing in the kitchen of my Indianapolis apartment, holding a cup of coffee I suddenly had no interest in drinking.
"What do you mean, they left?"
The administrator paused. "They said they needed to retrieve some paperwork from their car. They never returned."
I called my father. Straight to voicemail. Then my mother. Same result.
I drove 190 miles with both hands gripping the steering wheel.
When I arrived, Grandma was seated beside one brown suitcase and a grocery bag filled with medications. She still wore her church coat despite the warm lobby. Her gray hair was neatly pinned, and her expression had that familiar calmness she always showed whenever she was deeply upset.
I knelt beside her. "Grandma."
She studied me for several seconds. Then she rose. No tears. No questions. She walked toward my car, climbed inside, and fastened her seatbelt.
"Don't call them," she said.
I stared at her.
"I'll tell you where we're going."
"Where?"
"First, the county courthouse."
That immediately caught my attention.
On the highway, she opened her purse and passed me a folded bank statement. Three withdrawals were circled in red. Twelve thousand dollars. Eighteen thousand. Twenty-five thousand. All made within six weeks.
"Your father has power of attorney," she said. "Temporary. I signed it after my surgery because I trusted him."
My stomach tightened.
"He told me I was becoming forgetful. He said I needed assistance managing my bills." She turned toward the window. "Then yesterday I discovered this."
"Did you confront him?"
"I did."
"And?"
"He claimed the money was being spent on my care."
I glanced toward the single suitcase sitting in the back seat.
Grandma gave a humorless laugh. "At lunch today, your mother told me we were visiting somewhere with a garden. They walked me into that facility, completed nothing, and disappeared."
My phone buzzed. Dad. Grandma reached across and turned it face down.
"Courthouse first," she repeated. "Then the bank. Then one final place."
"What place?"
She looked directly at me. "My house."
I swallowed. "Why?"
"Because if they've done what I believe they've done, your parents didn't simply leave me there today."
She removed a small envelope from inside her coat. Written across the front, in my grandfather's handwriting, were two words: HOUSE DEED.
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"I hid this before they came to get me," she explained. "I wanted to see whether they would search for it."
Her voice became quieter. "They wanted me out of the way."
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