“Sign what?”
“I don’t know.”
“What things, Tyler?”
“Papers.”
Tyler explained that Jason sometimes carried a folder upstairs whenever I left the house. One afternoon, Tyler had been sitting in Grandma’s room reading when Jason arrived with several documents and told him to go downstairs.
Tyler obeyed at first, but something about Jason’s tone made him uncomfortable. Instead of going all the way downstairs, he quietly returned and hid near the landing where he could hear what was happening inside the bedroom.
“I didn’t like how he said it.”
From the hallway, Tyler heard Jason spread several papers across Mom’s blanket. Jason repeatedly told her that the documents were only meant to let him help with things while she recovered.
“It’s just so I can help with everything while you recover.”
My stomach tightened as Tyler described Grandma repeatedly asking Jason where she needed to sign. That detail disturbed me because Mom had been taking strong medication since the surgery and often struggled to remember conversations from earlier in the day.
“What did Grandma say?”
“She kept asking where to sign.”
“Was she awake?”
Tyler hesitated before answering.
“Kind of.”
That answer frightened me more than anything else he had said. Tyler explained that Grandma signed several pages before Jason quickly folded them, put them back into the folder, and left the room.
Then Tyler revealed something even worse. Jason had returned to the house late one night while I was asleep and used the spare key I had given him.
