In a private group for mothers in Savannah, Georgia, a post from six months ago popped up. There was a photo of the exact same man. He was wearing the same gray suit, standing in a mall corridor.

But the mother who posted it called him Julian Ross of Ross Scouting Partners.

She wrote about how she had paid the eight hundred dollars. She wrote about how they had driven all the way to Atlanta, checked into the expensive hotel they were forced to book through his link, only to find a chaotic room in a basement conference center. There were no scouts. Just forty other families who had paid the cash, sitting around waiting for a man who never showed up.

He had taken their money, pocketed a kickback from the hotel bookings, and vanished.

My hands were shaking. I felt sick to my stomach. This sc*mmer was targeting young girls whose families could least afford to lose eight hundred dollars. I knew Tracey was planning to use her small savings, money she had set aside for Kayla’s college books, to pay this man.

I looked at the gold foil card sitting on the table. I could have called Tracey right then, but I knew what would happen.

She would get defensive. She would think I was just being a negative, controlling mother who didn’t want Kayla to succeed. I needed proof. I needed to stop him completely.

At 8:30 the next morning, I picked up the kitchen landline. The beige cord was tangled, and I pulled it straight as I dialed the number on the card. I took a deep breath and let my voice go soft and shaky, like an old woman who was confused by the world.

“Mr. Vance?” I piped. “This is Evelyn, Kayla’s grandmother. We met at the mall yesterday.”

“Ah, Evelyn!” His voice was instant syrup. “I was hoping I would hear from you. Have we decided to take that slot for Kayla?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, pretending to hesitate. “My daughter Tracey is just thrilled. But, you see, I am the one who manages the family finances. My late husband left me a small annuity, and I always pay for Kayla’s special things. But I don’t do the online bank transfers. It makes me terribly nervous with all the computer hackers these days.”

“I understand completely,” Marcus said. I could almost hear the grin on his face through the receiver. “We can make other arrangements.”

“I have the eight hundred dollars in cash right here in my purse,” I said, lowering my voice. “Could we meet you somewhere? Maybe that Panera Bread right by the mall? I would feel so much better handing it to you in person and getting a paper receipt.”

“That would be perfect,” he said. “I can meet you there at eleven o’clock. I will have Kayla’s official registration forms ready for you.”