My stomach dropped. I took a second to process, confused, I whispered, "Brad?" That can't be right. "Wait, what? What do you mean?"
"It appears that Brad may not be the innocent husband we initially thought. From what we can tell right now, it looks like Jessica may have started stealing on her own, but either Brad found out and started working with her, or he discovered what she was doing and wanted in on it. I think he may have known she was using and, instead of stopping her or getting her help, he used it as an opportunity."
"Jesus Christ. How much money are we talking about?"
"So far, it looks like close to half of what she took. Jessica was taking smaller amounts initially, but once Brad got involved, the thefts got bigger and more frequent. We don't know yet how that unfolded, but best guess—he could have been encouraging her addiction to keep the money flowing."
I sank onto the couch, my head spinning. "Holy shit. Are you telling me that Brad was profiting off his wife's addiction and her downward spiral?"
"It's not for sure right now, but it is our best guess. We'll start gathering the evidence and see where it takes us. For now, be on guard. Avoid Brad if you can. I'm assuming you don't have much of a relationship with him given what you've said so far?" 
"Yeah, he always kept to himself and to his work. Seemed like an okay guy, and Macy never complained about him. But no, no relationship per se."
"What does this mean for Jessica? For the charges against her?"
"There's a lot up in the air right now. But she's still culpable for the original and ongoing theft and for taking Macy. But Brad's involvement might explain why things escalated so quickly. He may have been feeding her addiction instead of helping her get clean, and influencing her. Like I said, just stay clear of Brad. I'll keep you posted as the case progresses—to the best of my ability."
After Morrison hung up, I sat staring at my phone. Jessica had started this mess herself, but Brad had made it worse. Instead of being the husband who got his wife help, he'd been the scumbag who profited from her illness.
The thought made me sick. Macy could have been seriously hurt because Brad saw dollar signs instead of a woman who needed treatment.
I was still processing everything when I heard Felicity's footsteps on the stairs. She appeared in the kitchen doorway, hair damp from her shower, wearing comfortable clothes and looking more relaxed than she had in days.
"Macy fell asleep," she said softly, coming over to sit beside me on the couch. "Poor thing was exhausted. Probably the adrenaline wearing off—she's been through so much."
"Good. She needs the rest."
I put my arm around Felicity and pulled her close. 
"Gross, you still smell! Go shower." She laughed.
I sat forward, elbows on my knees—sighing loudly.
"Hey—I'm sorry—I was just teasing," she said while rubbing my back.
I grabbed her hand and held it. "No, it's not that. I know you're teasing—and I smell." I smiled and continued, holding up my phone with my other hand. "Morrison called. They found something else in the financial investigation."
"What kind of something?"
"Brad. It looks like he knew about Jessica's stealing and wanted a piece of it. Maybe even encouraged her addiction to keep the money flowing."
Felicity's eyes widened. "No effing way, are you serious?"
"Dead serious. Morrison thinks Jessica started stealing on her own eventually funding a pill habit—though I don't know that anyone knows yet how that started. Regardless, Brad either found out and joined in, or discovered it and saw an opportunity. And then, instead of getting his wife help, he profited off her addiction."
"My God, that's disgusting." Felicity was quiet for a moment, processing. "So while Jessica was spiraling, losing her mind on pills, Brad was sitting there getting rich?"
"That's what it looks like."
"What does this mean for the case? For Jessica?"
I ran my hands through my hair. "Morrison said Jessica's still responsible for the theft and kidnapping. But Brad's involvement might explain why everything escalated as quickly as they did. She's still culpable, but maybe... maybe she was being manipulated too."
"Do you think that changes how you feel about what happened to Macy?"
I thought about it. "Fuck No. Macy still got hurt. Jessica still made the choice to take those pills, to take Macy away from us. But it does help me understand a little about how things got so out of control so quickly."
"And Brad?"
"Morrison told me we need to stay away from him. They're building a case, but for now, we just avoid him."
Felicity leaned back against the couch cushions. "We will need to go to Jessica's house and get some of Macy's things. Her school stuff, most of her clothes and—well, pretty much everything that she needs is there." 
"Shit. I didn't think about that. I'll call Morrison in a bit and get his thoughts." I looked toward the stairs, where Macy was sleeping peacefully for the first time in days. "Whatever we do, I know I want to do everything I can to protect you and Macy. Everything else, we'll figure out.
"All right—go shower and I'll finish lunch."
I reached for my wife, ignoring her laughing protests about my B.O., and pulled her in close. I held her and kissed her deeply—passionately. Pulling back, seeing that dazed look in her eyes—knowing the same was reflected in my own, I felt grounded. "I love you." 
"I love you too. Now go wash up."
I laughed and headed upstairs; running the list of things to do through my head as I climbed.  
Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, I walked past Macy's room. I doubled back, peeking through the door she'd left cracked open. She usually closed it if she was in her room, but I'm guessing she wasn't quite ready to be all alone. I don't think I was either. 
I thought of when she was just a baby—her first smile, first laugh, first uncontrollable giggle. I remember her first big fall when she tumbled from her bike and scraped up the whole side of her leg. I thought back to when she was little, how strong she was through Jessica and my divorce—she was only just about to be three at the time. 
For as long as she can remember, Macy has always lived in two places. Being full time with Felicity and me is probably going to be a major adjustment. With one last look at my daughter's face, expression soft with sleep, and relief from the last twenty-four hours, I turned and continued on. 
I took out my phone before heading to the shower. Scrolling through the list I had saved, I searched for a therapist specializing in family support. 
Lifting the phone to my ear, I responded to the answering voice, "Hi, I need to book an appointment . . ."