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I didn’t know how to respond to that.
So, I didn’t.
“I’m beside you the whole time. Do not forget that. I’m not going anywhere, Jillian. You are not alone.”
I must still be dreaming.
Still asleep.
On the couch.
At home.
Underneath my grandma’s blanket.
Two officers opened the doors at the end of the hallway for us.
And we walked through.
A throng of people sat in rows and rows of chairs. And two officers stood on a stage. One behind a podium.
As soon as she saw us, Heather nodded.
The officer nodded back and moved the microphone to the correct level. Heather and I stepped onto the stage. And that was when I saw Cash—dressed in a suit—heading straight for us. He’d been standing on the other side, so I didn’t see him at first.
We came to a stop behind the officer.
Heather stood on one side of me.
Cash on the other.
The officer began to speak, “Today, at six o’clock in the evening, Phillip Tricheur and Stuart Tricheur were taken into custody.”
I breathed in a sharp breath.
But I didn’t so much as blink.
Heather’s hand curled around mine.
“They were arrested and charged with—” the officer continued speaking. And my brain tried to keep up. It really did.
But this was a lot.
I didn’t understand every word.
But by the time she finished—I more than understood.
Phillip—my mother’s manager for years and years—and his son, Stuart—the douche canoe, had been stealing from my mother.
For years.
And years.
And years.
As well as all the money I’d been working my ass off to make.
To pay for my mother’s care.
