That immediately got my attention.
Once we were back on the highway, she opened her purse and handed me a folded bank statement.
Three withdrawals were circled in red.
Twelve thousand dollars.
Eighteen thousand.
Twenty-five thousand.
All taken within six weeks.
“Your father has power of attorney,” she explained. “Temporary. I signed it after my knee surgery because I trusted him.”
My stomach tightened.
“He told me I was starting to become forgetful. He said I needed help handling the bills.” She stared out the window. “Then yesterday, I found this.”
“Did you confront him?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He said the money was being used to pay for my care.”
I glanced toward the lone suitcase in the back seat.
Grandma let out a humorless laugh.
“At lunch today, your mother told me we were stopping somewhere that had a lovely garden. They walked me into that facility, finished none of the paperwork, and vanished.”
My phone buzzed.
