Every staged incident, every manufactured emergency, every carefully documented episode had been building toward this moment when my own words would be used as evidence against me. “But we have her history now,” I said. “Surely that changes things.” “It helps, but it’s not enough. We need proof that she’s actively defrauding you, not just evidence that she’s done it before. We need to catch her in the act.”
I smiled for the first time since this nightmare began. “What if I told you I’ve been recording every conversation we’ve had for the past 3 months?” Rick’s eyebrows shot up. “Every conversation?” “Every single one. I started wearing a small digital recorder after that incident with the stove. I wanted to document my interactions with her in case my memory was actually starting to go.”
I paused. “Turns out my memory is just fine. But I have hours of audio of Harlo discussing her plans for me, talking about how much money the house will bring, even joking about how easy it is to manipulate Nolan.” “Janine, that’s—” Rick shook his head in amazement. “That’s exactly what we need. But there’s something else we should discuss. Something bigger.”
“Bigger how?” “I did some checking on Sunset Manor, the facility where she wants to place you. They’ve had an unusually high number of deaths in the past 2 years. Natural causes, all of them. But the pattern is concerning. Most of the residents who died had their assets transferred to family members shortly before their deaths.” A chill ran down my spine.
“You think she’s working with someone there?” “I think Harlo Chen or Helen Crawford or whatever her real name is has connections we haven’t uncovered yet. And I think you stumbling on to this might have prevented something much worse than just losing your house.” The weight of what he was saying settled over me like a heavy blanket. This wasn’t just about greed or convenience.
This was about something darker, more systematic. “What do we do now?” I asked. Rick leaned forward, his expression serious but determined. “Now we set a trap, and this time we make sure she can’t disappear in the middle of the night.” I thought about Nolan, my sweet boy who had no idea he’d married a monster. I thought about all the other families Harlo had destroyed.
All the elderly people who’d died alone and forgotten because of her schemes. “Tell me what you need me to do,” I said. “Because this wasn’t just about saving myself anymore. This was about stopping a predator who had been hunting vulnerable families for years. And I was going to make sure her hunting days were finally over.”
The next morning, I woke up before dawn with the kind of clarity that comes from finally understanding the full scope of what you’re fighting.
Rick had left me with homework, specific things to look for, questions to ask, ways to draw Harlo out without making her suspicious. But as I sat at my kitchen table with my morning coffee, staring at the folder of documents Rick had left behind, I realized there was something we’d missed. Something that had been nagging at me since yesterday’s conversation. Harlo Chen, Helen Crawford.
The woman who’d married my son had been using different names, different identities. But what if she hadn’t just been changing her name? What if she’d been changing her entire legal status? I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in 20 years. “Margie, it’s Janine Fletcher. I know it’s early, but I need a favor.” Margaret Williams had been my best friend since high school, and she’d spent the last 30 years working in the county clerk’s office.
If anyone could help me dig into marriage records across multiple states, it was Margie. “Janine, what on earth has you calling at 6:00 in the morning?” “I need you to run some marriage license searches for me. Multiple states, multiple names. It’s important, Margie. More important than I can explain over the phone.” There was a pause.
Margie had always been able to read between the lines, even when we were teenagers. “This is about that daughter-in-law of yours, isn’t it? The one you’ve been worried about.” “How did you—” “Honey, I’ve known you for 50 years. You don’t ask for favors unless something’s seriously wrong. What do you need me to look for?” I gave her the names Rick had uncovered.
Harlo Chen, Helen Crawford, along with the approximate dates and locations of her previous marriages. What I was hoping to find was evidence of a pattern. What I found was something much worse. Margie called me back 2 hours later, her voice tight with concern. “Janine, you need to sit down for this.” I was already sitting, but I gripped the edge of my kitchen table anyway.
“What did you find?” “Your daughter-in-law is still married. Not to Nolan. To at least two other men, maybe more.” The room seemed to tilt around me. “What do you mean still married?” “I mean, she never divorced David Kim in Portland or James Wright in Denver.”