Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Room
Inside the cold, windowless interrogation room of the 4th Precinct, Abby sat quietly on a metal chair, her small hands cuffed to an iron ring mounted on the wooden table.
Across from her sat Detective Marcus Vance, puffing on a cigar despite the "NO SMOKING" sign posted on the concrete wall.
"You think you're pretty tough, don't you?" Vance sneered, blowing a cloud of gray smoke directly into Abby's face. "Your little internet video ruined my brother's gym. He lost thirty paying members this morning alone. You're going to sign a confession stating you used an illegal metal weapon, or I'll make sure you stay in a state juvenile facility until you're eighteen."
Abby didn't blink. She didn't cough. She just watched him with those icy blue eyes.
"You're making a mistake," Abby said quietly.
"Is that a threat?" Vance laughed, leaning forward and slamming his heavy hands onto the table. "You're a thirteen-year-old nobody! Your mom cleans toilets for a living! You have no money, no lawyer, and no hope!"
Suddenly, the heavy iron door of the interrogation room was kicked open with tremendous force.
A man in a dark charcoal suit, carrying a sleek leather briefcase, stepped into the room. Behind him stood six uniformed Federal Marshals holding tactical gear and military-grade sidearms.
"Detective Marcus Vance!" the attorney barked, his voice echoing through the concrete room like thunder. "My name is Alexander Mercer, Senior Legal Counsel for the Department of Defense. Unhand that child immediately!"
Vance sprang from his chair, his hand flying to his service pistol. "What the hell is this? This is a local police facility! You have no jurisdiction here!"
"Read this, Detective," Mercer said smoothly, sliding a thick stack of federal court orders across the table. "As of three minutes ago, the United States District Court has issued a federal writ of habeas corpus. Abigail Bennett is under federal protection under the Special Forces Legacy Act."
Vance’s face drained of all color as he looked at the official seals on the documents. "Special Forces... what?"
"Master Sergeant Thomas Bennett was a recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor," Mercer stated coldly, stepping forward and using a key to unlock Abby's handcuffs himself. "Under federal law, any attempt by local law enforcement to unlawfully detain, harass, or frame the direct descendants of a Medal of Honor recipient carries a mandatory federal sentence of twenty years in prison."
Abby rubbed her wrists, looking up at Mercer with a small, knowing smile. "Took you long enough."
Mercer chuckled softly. "Traffic was heavy, Miss Bennett. Your mother is waiting outside."
Detective Vance stood paralyzed, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish as the Federal Marshals surrounded him, unclipping his badge and unholstering his service weapon.
"Marcus Vance," a Marshal announced, clicking a pair of steel handcuffs around the detective's wrists. "You are under arrest for federal civil rights violations, falsification of police records, and extortion."
As they led the screaming, swearing detective out through the squad room, the entire precinct watched in utter disbelief.
I was standing in the lobby, surrounded by four dark SUVs with federal government plates.
When Abby walked through the double doors, free and unharm, she ran straight into my arms. I lifted her off her feet, swinging her around as tears of pure joy streamed down my face.
May you like
"We did it, Mom," she whispered into my neck.
"No, baby," I smiled, looking up as a dark town car pulled up to the curb, revealing the smiling face of General Edward Sterling in the backseat. "Your grandfather did it."
