“I help her pay bills,” he explained. “She gets confused and thinks charges are missing or duplicated.”
“She didn’t seem confused.”
“She has good days and bad days.”
Colin always sounded reasonable.
Over the next several months, Elaine repeated things he had told her.
Judith had forgotten paying a bill.
Judith had accused the residence of losing a check.
Judith had changed her mind about giving someone permission.
Colin often showed Elaine messages that seemed to prove it.
Eventually, we all started viewing Judith as sweet but unreliable.
That was exactly what Colin intended.
As the wedding approached, Colin became obsessed with making it impressive.
Whenever I suggested cutting costs, he dismissed my concerns.
“We only get married once.”
When I asked whether we could afford the upgrades he wanted, he told me not to worry.
“Aunt Judith has more money than she’ll ever spend,” he once joked. “Maybe she’ll finally do something fun with it.”
I thought it was a tasteless comment, nothing more.
I did not know Colin had accumulated thousands of dollars in personal debt while pretending to be financially secure.
I also did not know he had already started using Judith’s accounts.
Two days before the wedding, Colin and I drove to Elaine’s house to collect childhood photographs for the reception.
That morning, he had picked Judith up from her residence and taken her to the bank.
He told me he had brought her home before lunch.
When we entered Elaine’s kitchen, she looked up from the food she was preparing for the rehearsal dinner.
“Thanks for dropping those storage boxes off earlier,” she told Colin. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”
Colin gave her a quick smile.
“I was in a hurry.”
I barely noticed the comment at the time.
Later, I learned that after leaving Judith outside the bank, Colin had driven to Elaine’s house and hidden her belongings upstairs. Then he returned to my apartment and picked me up as though nothing had happened.
Elaine wiped her hands on a towel.
“Judith has called me four times this week about the same account statement.”
“She gets scared,” Colin said. “I handle it.”
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“At home.”
“What did she need at the bank?”
“She wanted help moving some money. It’s handled.”
The word bothered me.
Not discussed.
Not resolved.
Handled.
Colin pointed toward the stairs.
“The photo albums are in my old room. I’ll check the attic.”
I followed him upstairs.
His childhood bedroom still held a narrow bed, an old desk, and a faded couch pushed against the wall.
Colin carried several boxes into the hallway.
“You answer the wedding messages,” he said. “Relax for once.”
After he left, I sat on the bed and opened a message from Paige, our wedding planner.
She wanted approval for another floral upgrade Colin had requested.
As I typed, my phone slipped from my hand and disappeared behind the couch.
I knelt to retrieve it and touched fabric.
A dusty pink backpack had been shoved into the narrow gap. Fresh scrape marks ran along one side.
I pulled it out.
Judith’s driver’s license lay on top of several credit cards and bank receipts.
One card had its security code written on a piece of tape.
There were also two signed checks with the amounts left blank. A note in Colin’s handwriting was attached to them.
For residence bills.
My stomach tightened.
Inside a small zipped compartment, I found a folded piece of paper. It had been pushed beneath the lining, which explained why Colin had apparently missed it.
Colin,
Please give me my cards and phone back. I told you I do not want to withdraw any more money. I need to pay for my room and medicine myself.
Judith
Then I found her prescription bottle.
The label instructed her to take one tablet at noon. The bottle had been filled three days earlier and was almost full.
I called Judith’s number.
A phone began ringing inside the backpack.
That was when my confusion became fear.
I immediately called her residence.
“My name is Mara Ellison,” I told the receptionist. “I’m engaged to Judith Shaw’s nephew. Has she returned?”
The woman paused.
“Our records show that Judith left with Colin shortly after nine this morning. She was expected back before lunch.”
It was almost four.
“Has anyone spoken to her?”
“No. We’ve called both of them several times.”
“Colin is here, but Judith isn’t. I found her phone, identification, credit cards, and medication.”
The receptionist’s voice sharpened.
“Please contact the police. We’re doing the same.”
Footsteps approached the bedroom.
I took the note and prescription bottle into the bathroom, locked the door, and called emergency services.
“Mara, open the door,” Colin said.
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Who are you really talking to?”
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