Very pale.
Finally, he held up the photograph.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd.
Even from where I stood, I recognized it.
My bedroom.
My old bedroom.
But it wasn’t the room I remembered.
The walls had been torn open.
Floorboards removed.
And stacked in the center of the room were boxes.
Dozens of boxes.
Filled with cash.
The sheriff slowly turned toward my parents’ house.
“What exactly am I looking at?”
My mother screamed from behind the door.
“Don’t touch those!”
