Chapter 3 - THE DEBT THAT FOLLOWED HER HOME
Haven received the collection notice on Wednesday.
It was printed on heavy white paper.
The balance was higher than before.
Interest.
Fees.
Administrative costs.
She stared at the amount.
$86,412.19.
Her mother had been dead for four years.
Haven had already paid thousands toward bills she believed she owed.
Yet the balance seemed to grow whenever she managed to reduce it.
Pearl found her sitting in the diner's storage room.
She touched the table to get Haven's attention.
What's wrong?
Haven showed her the letter.
Pearl's expression hardened.
Again?
Haven nodded.
Pearl read carefully.
Then signed:
We need someone to examine this.
Lawyers cost money.
So does paying a debt that may not belong to you.
Haven looked up.
Pearl continued:
Your mother wouldn't want you spending your life afraid of envelopes.
That afternoon, Haven visited a nonprofit legal clinic.
A young attorney named Nadia Ellis reviewed the collection notices.
She frowned.
“Did you personally sign an agreement accepting responsibility for your mother's medical debt?”
Haven read the question on the tablet used for communication.
She typed:
No. I signed hospital visitor forms and paperwork for financial assistance.
Nadia studied the documents.
Then wrote:
In general, an adult child is not personally responsible for a deceased parent's medical debt simply because they are related. We need to examine what happened.
Haven stared.
For years, collectors had told her she was responsible.
She had believed them.
Nadia continued reviewing.
Then her expression changed.
Who is Ashford Recovery Holdings?
Haven felt cold.
Trevor Ashford's company?
Nadia nodded.
It appears they recently acquired the account.
Haven remembered Philippe's warning.
Be careful of Trevor Ashford.
That evening, Haven received a message from an unknown number.
Miss Hart, this is Philippe Ferraro. Sofia gave me your contact details with your permission. Would you be willing to meet for coffee? I have information about Trevor Ashford that may concern you.
Haven stared.
She typed:
Why not tell the police?
His reply came quickly.
I intend to share what I have. But the information concerns your financial records, and I believe you deserve to hear it directly.
She considered.
Then replied:
Public place. Tomorrow. Four o'clock. I choose where.
Agreed.
The following afternoon, Philippe arrived at a small café near Prospect Park.
No entourage.
No dramatic entrance.
Just a dark coat and a paper cup of coffee.
He greeted Haven in ASL.
Thank you for coming.
She sat.
What do you know?
Philippe placed a folder on the table.
Inside were corporate ownership records.
Trevor Ashford's name appeared beside several debt-purchasing companies.
One had recently acquired the account connected to Miriam Hart.
Haven stared.
Why?
Philippe signed carefully.
I don't know yet. But I believe Trevor arranged the gala invitation because he wanted you near my family.
For what reason?
That's what I'm trying to discover.
Haven leaned back.
And why should I trust you?
Philippe didn't look offended.
You shouldn't trust anyone simply because they helped you once.
She studied him.
He continued:
Ask questions. Verify what I tell you. Let your attorney review everything.
Haven felt something unfamiliar.
Respect.
Not sympathy.
Not charity.
Respect.
Then Philippe added:
There's something else.
She waited.
His expression became guarded.
My sister's name was Alessia. She died seven years ago. Trevor's father was involved in the investigation into her death.
Haven went still.
What happened to her?
Philippe looked down at his hands.
For a long moment, he did not sign.
May you like
Then:
Someone made sure nobody believed what she was trying to tell us.
