An account she would control, no doubt, just like she’d done with her previous victims. “Have you found buyers already?” I asked innocently. Harlo and Nolan exchanged a look. “Actually,” Harlo said, “we’ve had some interest. There’s a couple who looked at it earlier this week. They seem very excited about it.”
The Hendersons, the couple she’d brought through my house while I was out. The ones who’d talked about tearing down walls and modernizing everything. “That was fast,” I observed. “Well, it’s a sellers market right now,” Harlo said smoothly. “Good houses go quickly.” I nodded, taking a sip of my coffee. “And when would this all happen?” “Soon,” Nolan said. “We’ve already put a deposit down at Sunset Manor.”
“They have a room available, and honestly, Mom, the waiting list is usually pretty long. We were lucky to get you in.” Lucky. Or Harlo had connections there, just like Rick suspected. “I see,” I said quietly. “And I suppose you’ve already made all the arrangements.” “We’ve handled the paperwork,” Harlo said. “Nolan has power of attorney now, so he can take care of all the legal details.”
“You don’t have to worry about any of that complicated stuff.” Power of attorney? The documents I’d never signed, the authority I’d never granted. “Could I see these papers?” I asked. “I’d like to understand what I’m agreeing to.” Another exchange of looks between them.
“Mom, the important thing is that you trust us to take care of you,” Nolan said. “The legal details are, well, they’re pretty boring. Lots of lawyer language.” “But surely I should know what rights I’m signing away.” “You’re not signing away any rights,” Harlo said, her voice taking on a slightly sharper edge. “We’re just making sure you’re protected and cared for.” I stood up slowly, as if the weight of their words was too much for me to bear sitting down.
“This is a lot to process,” I said. “I think I need some air.” I walked to the kitchen window, looking out at the garden my husband and I had planted together. Behind me, I could hear Nolan and Harlo talking in low voices. “She’s taking it better than I expected,” Harlo was saying. “She seems more confused than usual tonight,” Nolan replied. “Maybe you’re right about the timeline.”
When I turned back to them, I was holding my phone. “There’s something I need to tell you both,” I said. “What is it, Mom?” I hit the play button on my voice recorder app. Harlo’s voice filled the dining room, crystal clear and unmistakably cruel. “Because I can. The house will sell for at least $400,000.”
“Maybe more if we find the right buyer. That’s a nice nest egg for Nolan and me to start our real life together. Our real life without his mother hovering over everything.” The color drained from Harlo’s face. Nolan looked confused, then shocked as he recognized his wife’s voice. “What is this?” Harlo demanded. “This is you. 3 days ago, explaining to me why you’re destroying my life,” I said calmly.
“Would you like to hear more? I have hours of recordings.” I hit play again. This time, it was Harlo’s voice saying, “Face facts, Janine. You’ve already lost. You have no money of your own anymore. No legal standing, no allies.” Nolan was staring at his wife like he’d never seen her before. “Harlo, what is she talking about?”
“It’s taken out of context,” Harlo said quickly. “She’s confused, Nolan. This is exactly what we’ve been talking about. She’s paranoid, recording conversations, making up stories.” “Making up stories?” I reached into the drawer of my china cabinet and pulled out the folder Rick had given me. “Like the story about your real name being Helen Crawford or the story about your previous marriages to David Kim and James Wright and Robert Chen?”
Now Harlo looked genuinely terrified. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I’m talking about the fact that you’re still married to at least two other men, which makes your marriage to my son invalid. I’m talking about the fact that you’ve done this exact same thing to three other families. I’m talking about the fact that Helen Crawford is a predator who specializes in targeting elderly family members.”
Nolan was looking back and forth between us like he was watching a tennis match, trying to process what he was hearing. “This is insane,” Harlo said, standing up so quickly that her chair fell backward. “Nolan, she’s having some kind of psychotic break. We need to call someone.” “Sit down,” I said, and there was something in my voice that made her freeze. “We’re not done.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. It rang twice before Rick Morrison answered. “Detective Morrison, it’s time.” Within 10 minutes, my dining room was full of law enforcement officers. Rick Morrison, two FBI agents, and a representative from the district attorney’s office. They’d been waiting for my call. Positioned nearby in case Harlo tried to run.
“Helen Crawford,” one of the FBI agents said, “you’re under arrest for bigamy, wire fraud, mail fraud, and conspiracy to commit elder abuse.” As they read her rights, Harlo looked at me with pure hatred. “You think you’ve won,” she hissed. “But you’ve just destroyed your relationship with your son forever.” I looked at Nolan, who was sitting in stunned silence as his world collapsed around him.
“Maybe,” I said, “but at least he’ll be alive to hate me.” Which is more than I can say for Robert Chen, James Wright, and Elellanor Wright.