“Because if they’ve done what I think they’ve done, your parents didn’t just leave me there today.”
She reached inside her coat and pulled out a small envelope. Across the front, written in my grandfather’s handwriting, were two words: HOUSE DEED.
“I hid this before they came to pick me up,” she said. “I wanted to know whether they would go looking for it.”
Her voice dropped. “They wanted me out of the way.
My parents said to Grandma that they were taking her out to lunch. Three hours later, a nursing facility called me. Her suitcase was sitting in their lobby, and my parents were nowhere to be found.
