My father froze.

His hands were still hovered over the torn pieces of the will.

“Police,” the detective said. “Nobody move.”

My mother shrieked and dropped her hands to her sides.

Brandon shrank back into his chair, trying to make himself invisible.

“What is the meaning of this?” my father demanded, trying to find his authoritative voice. “This is private property.”

“Mr. Richard Parker?” the detective asked.

“Yes,” my father snapped. “And I want you out of my house immediately.”

The detective looked at the table.

He saw the torn pieces of the will.

He saw Arthur’s phone, which was now recording the room.

“I am Detective Vance,” the officer said. “We have a warrant for your arrest, and for your wife, Eleanor Parker.”

My mother let out a high-pitched sob.

“Arrest?” she gasped. “For what? We haven’t done anything.”

“You are being charged with grand larceny, forgery, and financial fraud,” Detective Vance said.

He stepped closer to the table.

“And now, we can add destruction of evidence and obstruction of justice to the list,” he added, pointing to the torn paper.