PART 2
Detective Ridgeway lowered his voice.
But the gym was so quiet that every word carried to the back wall.
“Your father, Griffin Ziegler, was taken into custody at 7:40 tonight at his office on Northfield Avenue.”
A gasp rolled through the room like a wave.
“The charges are fr*ud and a fake signature on legal papers. We need you to give a full statement, son.”
Mr. Ziegler.
The scoreboard.
The ribbon at the library.
The man who left two hundred dollars in our mailbox every Christmas.
Students stopped whispering.
Teachers stood frozen.
Even Principal Underhill looked stunned.
“No,” I whispered.
Then louder.
“No… that can’t be true.”
The detective turned to me with a look so gentle it frightened me.
“Miss Talbot, I’m sorry. We hoped Jonathan would have told you first.”
Told me what?
“The trust Mr. Ziegler was holding,” he said quietly. “It belongs to you.”
I turned toward Jonathan.
