I’m The Only One Who Looked After My Mom—So Who Took Her From The Nursing Home Without Telling Me?

But two days later, I got a message from Shireen, a grocery store clerk in the next town.
“She comes in with a woman—short, red hair, kind of bossy. They buy frozen meals, wine, and scratch-off tickets. Your mom complimented my necklace and told me about her cat.”

Mom hadn’t had a cat in ten years.

Something felt wrong.

I thanked Shireen, got the store’s address, and went there that afternoon. I left notes on the bulletin board, at the register, even in the parking lot.

That night, another message came—from Felix, Marla’s ex.
He saw my post and warned me: “She has a pattern. Vulnerable people. Pensions. Property. Insurance.”

He told me to check Mom’s house.

I hadn’t been there in weeks. I drove over the next morning.

The lock had been changed.

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