Then, a sudden, sharp command echoed through the speaker.

“Police! Stay where you are!”

The voice was loud, authoritative, and distant from the phone.

“Put your hands on your head!” another voice shouted.

“Lucas?” Chloe screamed into the phone.

There was no answer from Lucas.

We heard a scuffle.

The sound of leather shoes skidding on concrete.

A heavy metallic clatter, like a set of keys hitting the floor.

“Get down on the ground!” the officer yelled.

“I’m not armed!” Lucas shouted back. “I’m not armed!”

“Down on the ground now!”

The sound of a struggle filled our kitchen.

Chloe was crying openly now, her face buried in her hands.

I stood frozen, staring at the phone on the counter.

The line remained open.

I could hear the heavy breathing of several men.

I heard the metallic click of handcuffs.

“Lucas Vance, you are under arrest,” a voice said clearly.

“For what?” Lucas screamed. “I haven’t done anything!”

“Grand larceny, identity theft, and corporate embezzlement,” the officer replied.

The words hung in the air of our Denver kitchen.

It was the list of charges I had spent weeks compiling.