Chapter 7 - The Interrogation
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Trevor looked frantically toward his aunt, silently begging for an escape route that simply did not exist.
Brenda tried to step between them again, but Dr. Gable gently caught her by the elbow and guided her back toward her chair.
"Let Richard handle this, Brenda," Dr. Gable whispered with quiet firmness. "For everyone’s sake."
Trevor slowly rose to his feet, his knees knocking visibly against the edge of the dining table.
He was dressed in a sharp designer suit that Brenda had bought for him last Christmas, a suit meant to project wealth he didn't possess.
"Uncle Richard, this is crazy, I didn't do anything!" Trevor pleaded, his voice cracking with panic.
"Empty your pockets, son," Richard repeated, not raising his voice by a single decibel.
Trevor’s trembling hands dove into his front trouser pockets, pulling out a pack of gum, a set of car keys, and a leather wallet.
He placed them on the table with exaggerated innocence, trying to feign cooperation.
"See? Nothing! Just my regular stuff!" Trevor said, forcing a nervous, trembling smile.
Richard didn't move a muscle, his cold gray eyes dropping down to Trevor’s tailored suit jacket.
"The inside breast pocket, Trevor," Richard commanded quietly.
Trevor’s face turned an ashen shade of gray, his breathing becoming shallow and rapid.
"Uncle Richard, please..." Trevor whimpered, taking a half-step backward toward the wall.
"Trevor, take it out, or so help me God, I will search you like an insurgent at a Baghdad checkpoint," Richard warned coldly.
The threat was entirely credible; everyone in the room knew Richard’s thirty-year military record.
Mark stepped up beside his father, his expression hardening into pure disgust as he watched his cousin unravel.
With a defeated sob, Trevor reached his trembling hand inside the silk lining of his suit jacket.
His fingers emerged slowly, clutching three crisp, folded one-hundred-dollar bills.
The serial numbers were stamped in fresh black ink, clearly matching the description Brenda had given earlier.
A collective gasp echoed through the room, louder and more scandalized than before.
Evelyn covered her mouth in absolute shock, turning her head away in sheer disgust.
Brenda stood frozen, her eyes bulging as she stared at the stolen cash in her beloved nephew’s hand.
"Trevor... what did you do?" Brenda gasped, her voice trembling with genuine horror.
Trevor squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his cheeks as the pressure completely crushed him.
"You told me to do it, Aunt Brenda!" Trevor suddenly screamed, the dam bursting open in a flood of hysteria.
The entire dining room seemed to tilt on its axis at that horrific confession.
Mark grabbed the back of a dining chair, his knuckles turning white as he stared at his mother in utter disbelief.
"What did you just say?" Mark growled, his voice vibrating with dangerous fury.
Trevor pointed a shaking, accusatory finger directly at Brenda’s pale, horrified face.
"She promised me she’d give me five hundred dollars toward my sports gambling debt if I helped her tonight!" Trevor wailed shamelessly.
"She gave me the key to her bedroom nightstand before the guests arrived!" he cried out, spilling every sordid detail.
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"She told me to take the three hundred dollars and hide it in my car during dinner!" Trevor confessed between choking sobs.
"She said she was going to accuse Sarah so Mark would finally see she was trash and divorce her!"
