There was nothing ordinary about it.
If he had needed help with a bill, he would have said so.
If his truck needed repairs or something in his house had broken, he would probably have tried fixing it himself before calling me.
Instead, he needed certified documents, legal help, some kind of test, and old adoption records.
Most troubling of all, he seemed convinced he needed proof before he could tell me the truth.
For three days, I had no idea what he was doing with the money.
Then my phone rang from a number I did not recognize.
“Is this Grant Mercer?” a woman asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m calling from the hospital. Raymond Mercer listed you as his emergency contact.”
My chair shot backward when I stood.
“What happened?”
