Chapter 4 - The Interrogation Room
In the hospital’s private conference room on the second floor, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.
Detective Miller, a seasoned investigator with twenty years on the force, sat at the head of the long oak table, tapping his pen against his notebook. Sitting across from him were Elaine Vance, Daniel Vance, and their high-priced corporate defense attorney, Arthur Sterling.
"Detective," Sterling began, adjusting his gold cufflinks, "my clients have been extraordinarily cooperative today. But this entire investigation is based on the hysterical fabrications of a woman who has just suffered a profound medical trauma."
"Her trauma," Detective Miller replied calmly, "consists of three broken ribs, severe internal bruising, and the death of her two unborn children caused by blunt force trauma consistent with a fall down fifteen hardwood stairs."
Elaine wiped a fake tear from her eye with a silk handkerchief. "It was an awful, terrible accident, Detective. Claire was wearing smooth-soled slippers. She was carrying a heavy laundry basket. I reached out to catch her, but she slipped right out of my hands!"
"A laundry basket?" Detective Miller raised an eyebrow. "Interesting, Mrs. Vance. Because the scene technicians found no laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs. They found a shattered glass vase, fresh shoulder-width impact marks on the top wall, and a high-grade encrypted USB drive hidden under the stair riser."
Daniel's hand twitched against his leather chair. "I told you, Detective, that drive belongs to my firm's IT department. It has nothing to do with my wife's balance issues."
The conference room door swung open without a knock.
Marcus Vance walked into the room, carrying his leather briefcase, followed by two uniformed state police officers.
Elaine gasped, her polite facade cracking instantly. "Marcus?! What are you doing here?!"
"I am here representing my client, Claire Vance," Marcus announced, taking a seat directly beside Detective Miller.
Arthur Sterling frowned, standing up. "Marcus, you can't represent her! This is a conflict of interest! You are the defendant's brother!"
"I am a licensed attorney in good standing with the state bar, Arthur," Marcus replied smoothly, pulling a court order from his briefcase and sliding it across the table. "And as of twenty minutes ago, Judge Harrison signed an emergency preservation order freezing all domestic and international assets associated with Vance Development Corporation."
Daniel jumped out of his chair. "You froze our accounts?! On what grounds?!"
"On the grounds of an ongoing federal investigation into wire fraud, grand embezzlement, and attempted murder," Marcus stated, looking his brother dead in the eye.
"Attempted murder?!" Elaine shrieked, standing up so fast her chair fell backward onto the carpet. "You ungrateful little bastard! How dare you accuse your own mother of such a disgusting crime?!"
"I'm not accusing you, Elaine," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a register of terrifying calm. "The state prosecutor is. The crime scene technicians just extracted the digital forensic logs from the drive found under your stairs."
Elaine's breath hitched in her throat. She looked at Daniel, whose face had turned entirely green.
"That drive," Marcus continued, "contains the secondary accounting ledger detailing thirty-two million dollars transferred out of the family trust fund over the last six years—including two wire transfers executed yesterday afternoon, just three hours before Claire was pushed."
Detective Miller stood up slowly, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his utility belt.
"Elaine Vance," Detective Miller announced, stepping around the table. "You are under arrest for aggravated assault, destruction of evidence, and reckless homicide resulting in the termination of a pregnancy."
"No! Arthur, do something!" Elaine screamed, thrashing against Detective Miller's firm grip as the steel cuffs clicked tightly around her wrists. "Daniel! Tell them! Tell them she fell!"
Daniel stood motionless, his mouth agape, staring at his brother in utter horror as their mother was led out of the conference room in handcuffs, her shrieks echoing down the hospital hallway.
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Marcus stood up, closed his briefcase, and looked at his younger brother.
"You have twenty-four hours to turn yourself in, Daniel," Marcus whispered coldly. "Because when Claire speaks to the grand jury tomorrow morning, she won't be holding anything back."
