Chapter 8 - The Interrogation
The police sirens wailed as two squad cars parked aggressively on the lawn.
A neighbor must have heard the gunshot and called 911.
Officers jumped out of their vehicles with their weapons drawn.
“Drop the weapon and put your hands on your head!” an officer shouted.
Liam immediately dropped the crowbar.
He dropped to his knees in the rain and placed his hands on his head.
He began to sob loudly, playing the role of a terrified victim perfectly.
Officers pulled Mom out of the car, securing her wrists in handcuffs because of the broken window.
I opened the back door and screamed that Liam was the attacker.
An officer gently guided Chloe and me out of the vehicle and into the dry house.
The living room was swarming with police.
Paramedics were already attempting to wake up my heavily sedated father.
They separated all of us into different rooms to take our statements.
A young female detective sat with me in the kitchen.
I told her everything.
I told her about the latch on the door, the ice packs, and the hidden cameras.
I told her about Liam smashing the laptop and trying to trap us upstairs.
The detective wrote everything down with a blank, professional expression.
“Your brother tells a very different story,” the detective said softly.
My heart sank.
“He says your mother has been unstable and violent for months.”
“He claims she tried to shoot him tonight, and he was only trying to stop her from driving away drunk.”
“He is lying!” I shouted, hitting my fist on the table.
“Check Chloe’s arm for the bruise!”
The detective nodded slowly.
“We did check her arm, Maya.”
“She has a very severe bruise.”
“But your brother has identical defensive bruises on his chest and arms.”
“He claims your mother caused all of them.”
Liam had beaten himself up to frame Mom.
He had destroyed the laptop, which was the only evidence of his hidden cameras.
And Mom had drugged Dad and fired a weapon, which made her look completely guilty.
The system was going to fail us.
Liam was going to walk away, and Mom was going to jail.
The detective stood up and sighed.
“Without hard proof, this is a domestic dispute that heavily implicates your mother.”
I buried my face in my hands, sobbing tears of pure frustration.
Then, Chloe walked into the kitchen with another officer.
She looked terrified, but her chin was held high.
“I have proof,” Chloe whispered.
The detective stopped walking and turned around.
“What kind of proof, sweetie?” the detective asked.
May you like
Chloe pointed a shaking finger toward the hallway.
“Liam made me keep a notebook.”
