PART7-My Son Told Me to Stop Coming to His House Because His Wife “Needed Privacy”—So I Left His $612-a-Month SUV Renewal Unsigned

PART 7

I left the dealership without another word.

I didn’t go home.

I drove directly to St. Matthew Medical Center.

The white sedan was there.

Parked beneath a tree near the emergency entrance.

I sat in my car for almost ten minutes.

I considered leaving.

I considered calling Grady.

Then I remembered what Melissa had said.

He said you were the only person who might believe him.

I walked inside.

At the reception desk, I gave Nathan’s name.

A nurse checked the computer.

“He’s awake.”

“Can I see him?”

“Are you family?”

“No.”

She looked at me.

“Friend?”

I thought about it.

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

I took the folded lease packet from my purse.

“I think my son owes him money.”

The nurse’s expression changed.

She made a phone call.

A few minutes later, Melissa appeared.

“Mrs. Whitlow?”

“Yes.”

“Come with me.”

She led me through a quiet hallway.

Room 418.

She stopped at the door.

“One thing before you go in.”

“What?”

“He has been asking about you since yesterday.”

“Why?”

She looked uncomfortable.

“I don’t know.”

Then she opened the door.

Nathan Ellis looked nothing like the man I had imagined.

He was probably in his late forties.

Thin.

Pale.

One arm connected to an IV.

A heart monitor beeped beside him.

When he saw me, his eyes widened.

“Karen.”

I stood in the doorway.

“You know my name.”

He smiled faintly.

“I’ve known it for eighteen months.”

My stomach dropped.

“Why?”

“Because your son told me.”

“What exactly did he tell you?”

Nathan looked toward the hallway.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Does Grady know you’re here?”

“No.”

“Good.”

I walked closer.

“Start talking.”

He took a slow breath.

“Your son didn’t borrow eighty-seven thousand dollars from me.”

I froze.

“He borrowed twenty.”

“Then where did the other sixty-seven come from?”

Nathan stared at me.

“Kelsey.”

I didn’t speak.

“She has been borrowing money from several people.”

My mind raced.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because I’m not the first person she borrowed from.”

He reached toward the bedside table.

There was a folder.

He pushed it toward me.

I opened it.

Inside were copies of bank transfers.

Names.

Dates.

Amounts.

Dozens of transactions.

And then I saw something that made my hands tremble.

A transfer from an account belonging to Karen M. Whitlow.

$18,500.

My account.

I stared at the page.

“That isn’t possible.”

Nathan said nothing.

I turned the paper over.

The transaction date was seven months earlier.

I had been in Florida visiting my sister that week.

I remembered because I had been away from my computer.

“I didn’t send this.”

“I know.”

“Then who did?”

Nathan looked directly into my eyes.

“Kelsey.”

My mouth went dry.

“How?”

“She had access to your information.”

I shook my head.

“No.”

“She knew your banking details.”

“No.”

“She had copies of your tax documents.”

I stopped breathing.

My old county assessor records.

The documents I had once given Grady when he needed proof of income for the townhouse.

Kelsey had scanned them.

I remembered.

She had said she needed them for “paperwork.”

I had trusted her.

Nathan continued.

“She didn’t just use your name.”

He reached for another document.

“She used your identity.”

I stared at the page.

And then I saw the final line.

Loan application approved: $75,000.

My name.

My address.

My date of birth.

My Social Security number.

But not my signature.

I looked at Nathan.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know who to trust.”

“Why me now?”

He looked at the door.

“Because yesterday, Kelsey found out I was going to tell you.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“What happened yesterday?”

Nathan’s eyes filled with fear.

“She tried to make sure I couldn’t.”

The heart monitor suddenly accelerated.

A nurse rushed into the room.

“Mr. Ellis?”

Nathan grabbed my wrist.

“Karen.”

I leaned closer.

“What?”

He whispered the words so softly I almost missed them.

“Check your house.”

“Why?”

“Not the safe.”

I stared at him.

“Then where?”

His grip tightened.

“Your attic.”

The nurse pulled me back.

“Ma’am, please step outside.”

As I reached the hallway, my phone rang.

It was Grady.

I answered.

His voice was shaking.

“Mom, where are you?”

“At the hospital.”

Silence.

Then:

“Did you talk to Nathan?”

“Yes.”

Another silence.

“Mom…”

“What?”

“You need to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because Kelsey just called me.”

His voice broke.

“She said someone is inside your house.”

I froze.

“What?”

“She said she saw a man going through your front door.”

I looked toward the hospital exit.

Then I remembered Nathan’s last words.

Check your attic.

And suddenly I realized something much worse.

If someone was inside my house…

they weren’t looking for money.

They were looking for something I didn’t even know I had.

CONTINUE READING PART8…