My Son Invited Me To Our Remote Cabin To ‘bond.’ Then A Stranger Called At Midnight Warning Me Not To Go. My Life Insurance Was Doubled Yesterday, And Now I’m Terrified. What Do I Do?
I was sitting in my study, the kind of comfortable silence that comes with living alone for 5 years settling around me like an old blanket. My reading glasses were perched on my nose, a half-finished crossword puzzle was on the desk, and the evening news was playing softly in the background.
At 69, my evenings had found a rhythm: dinner at 6:00, an hour with the news, then some reading before bed. The last thing I expected at 9:47 p.m. on a Tuesday was my phone ringing.
I almost didn’t answer. The number wasn’t in my contacts, and at my age, you learn that calls after 9:00 are either emergencies or scammers.
But something made me pick up.
“Mr. Thompson? Richard Thompson?”
The voice was young, male, and breathless, like he’d been running.
“Yes, who is this?”
“My name is Marcus Hayes. I’m an insurance adjuster with Frontier Life. Sir, I know this sounds crazy, but you need to listen to me very carefully. Do not go to your cabin in Evergreen this weekend. Do you understand? Do not go.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it, thinking this was some kind of scam, obviously.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re selling, but…”
“I’m not selling anything, Mr. Thompson. Your son David called our office today. He tried to increase your life insurance policy to $1.3 million, backdated the paperwork to 3 months ago, and listed himself as the sole beneficiary.”
“When I pulled your file, I found documents I didn’t process: medical forms claiming you have advanced dementia, a doctor’s signature I’ve never seen in our system. Sir, I think your son is planning to kill you and make it look like an accident.”
The room tilted. I gripped the edge of my desk.
“That’s… that’s absurd. David is my son. He wouldn’t…”
“Mr. Thompson, please. I’ve been doing this job for 8 years. I’ve seen fraud before, but this is different.”
“The insurance increase, the fake medical records, and then I saw the dates. Your son specifically asked about payout timelines for accidental deaths. He asked if drowning would be investigated differently than a fall, and he mentioned you own a cabin at Lake Evergreen.”
My mouth went dry. I did own a cabin, and David had called me two days ago insisting I come up this weekend.,
He said we needed to talk father to son. He said it had been too long since we’d spent real time together.
His wife, Amanda, had even gotten on the phone, her voice sweet, saying they missed me.
“How do I know you’re not the scammer here?”
My voice sounded weak even to my own ears.
“Check my credentials. Frontier Life Insurance, downtown Denver office. Call the mainline tomorrow, ask for Marcus Hayes in Claims. But sir, tomorrow might be too late.”
“I’m calling you now because I saw your son leave our office 3 hours ago. He was smiling, and when I looked at the calendar, I saw this weekend circled.”
“Your son told our receptionist he was going to his father’s cabin this Saturday to help him with repairs. Mr. Thompson, I don’t think he means repairs on the cabin.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why are you telling me this? You could lose your job.”
There was a pause.
“My father died two years ago. Fell down the stairs at my brother’s house. Everyone said it was an accident.”
“The insurance paid out, but I found out later my brother had debts—bad debts. I never could prove anything, but I think… I think I know what happened. I can’t let it happen to someone else, not when I can stop it.”,
After I hung up, I sat in my study for two hours, the crossword forgotten. The clock ticked past midnight.
Everything in me wanted to believe this was a mistake, some terrible misunderstanding. David was my son, my only child.
After his mother died, we’d grown apart. It was my fault as much as his.
I’d buried myself in work, and he’d built his own life. But to think he could…
At 2:00 a.m., I made a decision. I would investigate, not because I believed Marcus Hayes, but because I needed to prove him wrong.
The next morning, I called my lawyer, Tom Chen. We’d worked together when I was at Morrison Engineering, and I trusted him completely.
“Tom, I need you to pull some records for me quietly.”
“What’s going on, Richard?”
I told him about the phone call. Tom was silent for a long moment.
“You want me to tell you this guy is crazy?”
“Yes.”,
“I can’t do that until we check. Give me access to your accounts—all of them: insurance, bank, investment. And I’m calling a private investigator I know.”
By Friday afternoon, Tom called me back. His voice was tight.
“Richard, you need to come to my office now.”
I drove downtown, my hands shaking on the wheel. Tom’s office was on the 15th floor of a glass building I’d helped design 30 years ago.
He met me at the door, his usually calm face gray.
“Sit down,”
he said.
He spread papers across his desk.
“Bank statements, medical forms—it’s all real, Richard. The insurance increase, $1.3 million policy, backdated 3 months.”
“The medical documents claim you have advanced Alzheimer’s and are a danger to yourself. They’re forged. The doctor’s signature belongs to a physician who died last year.”
“And look at this.”
He showed me bank records.
“David has been transferring money from your accounts—small amounts: $2,000 here, $3,000, $500 there. Nothing big enough to trigger alerts, but over the past 6 months, he’s taken $67,000.”,
“But he has power of attorney for medical decisions, not financial.”
“Someone forged your signature on a general power of attorney 4 months ago, gave David full access. The notary stamp is fake.”
Tom leaned forward.
“Richard, the PI followed David yesterday. He went to a pawn shop, paid cash for a hunting rifle, then he drove up to Evergreen to your cabin.”
“The PI watched him through binoculars. David was checking the back deck, the one that extends over the steep drop to the lake. He was testing the railing.”
The room spun.
“Testing it?”
“The railing’s been loosened. Anyone who leaned on it would go straight down. It’s a 40-foot drop onto rocks.”
I thought I might be sick.
“He’s going to push me.”
“Or wait for you to fall. Either way, it looks like an accident: elderly man with dementia alone at a cabin, tragic fall.”
“The insurance pays out double for accidental death. That’s $2.6 million, plus whatever’s left in your estate after the money he’s already taken.”
I stared at the papers. My son’s name was there over and over.
His signature, his handwriting. My boy, who I’d taught to ride a bike, who I’d helped with calculus homework, who’d cried in my arms when his mother died.
“What do I do?”
Tom pulled out his phone.
“First, we secure everything. I’m freezing all your accounts, revoking the power of attorney, alerting your bank. Second, we document everything. And third…”
He hesitated.
“We set a trap.”
“What kind of trap?”
“You go to the cabin, but you wear a wire. You get him to talk, and the police will be waiting.”
