Before the Knock

The clerk at the counter listened to my story and frowned.

"Ms. Jones, for a case like yours, you'll need to file a police report first. Once you have the receipt, we can pull up the original registration files."

"So, I have to go to the cops?" I asked.

"Yes. This involves possible signature forgery and identity theft, criminal matters we need to coordinate with the police on."

I nodded. "Got it. Anything else?"

She hesitated. "There's one more thing... Our system shows there might be more than just one mortgage on your property."

I was stunned. "What does that mean?"

"Besides the 150,000 dollars you already knew about, there was another private mortgage for 75,000 dollars. The registration date was December 23rd."

December 23rd.

I had been at work then, too.

Which meant...

The grand total was 225,000 dollars.

I let out a long breath.

"Alright, got it. Thanks."

I left the registration center and headed straight for the police station.

I filed a report.

I gave my statement.

Then, I handed over the evidence.

Three hours later, I was done.

The cops said they would get on it as soon as possible.

That afternoon, with the police receipt in hand, I went back to the County Clerk's office.

"Ms. Jones, we'll pull the original files in three to five business days."

"Fine."

I was almost out the door when the clerk stopped me.

"One more thing, Ms. Jones."

"Yeah?"

"We checked, and your property's mortgages are nearly maxing out its value. If these debts come due, the creditors may apply for compulsory enforcement."

"You're saying..."

"If you can't show these mortgages are fraudulent, your house may end up on the auction block."

The debt was for 225,000 dollars.

My place cost 270,000 dollars when I bought it.

The 90,000-dollar down payment was every penny my parents got from selling their old place.

Three years of mortgage payments down, and a hundred grand or so to go.

If it went to auction, any cash from that would go straight to the bank to cover that 225,000-dollar mortgage.

There might not be anything left for me.

My parents' nest egg, my three years of sweat… It was all for nothing.

I lingered at the entrance, lost in thought for what felt like hours.

Finally, I pulled out my phone and called Linda Collins.

"Linda, I need a favor."

"What's up?"

"Turns out my house has been put up for mortgage without my knowledge, twice, for a total of 225,000 dollars. I need to see the security footage from when the mortgages were made, and I need to track where the money has gone."

"Your house was mortgaged? By whom?"

"My mother-in-law."

The line went dead silent for a moment.

"Hold on; I'll see what I can find out."

I hung up and immediately texted my mom.

[Mom, we need to talk. I'll call you tonight.]

Her response came quickly.

[What's wrong?]

[I'll explain tonight.]

At 8:00 p.m., I settled into the couch and laid it all out for my mom.

225 thousand dollars.

Two mortgages.

The fact that our house was on the brink of auction.

I could hear my mom's breathing grow ragged over the phone.

"How could she?"

"Mom, I've already alerted the police."

"You did the right thing," she said, her voice quivering. "To do this behind your back... 225,000 dollars... And your dad and I… Our 90,000 dollars..."

"Mom, try to stay calm. I'm working on it."

"What's there to work on?" she asked, her voice laced with fury. "Report her, sue her, make her pay! How dare she lay a finger on your house?"

"Mom..."

"That 90,000 dollars was your father's and my life's work! Your dad's 63 and still breaking his back on construction sites! What gives her the right? What gives her the right to touch that money?"

"Mom, just breathe. I'm taking care of it..."

"How can we handle this?" My mom's voice broke. "Shirley, can you tell me, is there any hope for your house?"

I paused for a few heartbeats.

"Yes," I said firmly.

"I'll save it, no matter what."