Chapter 7 - The Interrogation
The explosive shockwave threw me violently across the rough tarmac, entirely knocking the wind out of my lungs.
I hit the ground hard, covering my head as burning shrapnel rained down onto the runway.
The left wing of the private jet was completely engulfed in roaring flames, illuminating the airfield in a terrifying, chaotic glow.
Federal tactical agents swarmed the burning wreckage, dragging a screaming, badly burned Elaine out of the shattered cabin door.
I struggled to my feet, my ears ringing violently from the blast, and desperately looked around for my father.
He was lying perfectly still near the nose gear, completely knocked unconscious by a piece of flying metal.
"Stay exactly where you are, hands in the air!" a federal agent ordered, pointing his rifle directly at my chest.
I slowly raised my hands, my entire body shaking with exhaustion and adrenaline.
"Please," I croaked, my throat raw and bruised from my father's attack.
"My grandmother is inside the terminal looking for a newborn baby."
The agent quickly tapped his radio earpiece, relaying the urgent information to his team inside the building.
Two agonizing minutes passed before the radio crackled back with a response.
"We have the older female, and the infant is safely secured and breathing normally," the voice on the radio confirmed.
Tears of absolute relief poured down my dirty, soot-covered face, washing away the horrors of the night.
The agents quickly handcuffed me, explaining it was standard protocol for a secure crime scene, and placed me in the back of a black SUV.
An hour later, I was sitting in a brightly lit, sterile interrogation room inside the regional FBI field office.
The heavy metal door opened, and a tall, sharp-looking woman in a dark suit walked in carrying a thick file.
"I am Special Agent Carter," she introduced herself, sitting down across from me and placing a digital recorder on the table.
"Your grandmother and brother are at the hospital receiving full medical evaluations, and they are both expected to be perfectly fine."
I let out a massive breath, feeling the heavy weight finally lift off my exhausted shoulders.
"My father and Elaine were trying to sell him," I explained immediately, wanting to make sure the truth was documented.
Agent Carter nodded slowly, opening the file to reveal dozens of photographs of my father and Elaine.
"We know exactly what they were doing," Carter said, her voice turning incredibly serious.
"We have been building a federal trafficking case against the buyer they were meeting for over two years."
Carter leaned forward, intertwining her fingers on the metal table.
"Elaine's real name is actually Sarah Jenkins, and she is a known associate of a massive international smuggling syndicate."
"She targets vulnerable, desperate men like your father, convinces them to have a child, and then brokers the sale."
I felt completely sick to my stomach, realizing this evil plan had been orchestrated from the very beginning.
"But we have a massive problem, and we desperately need your help," Carter continued, looking slightly nervous.
"Elaine's phone was completely destroyed in the explosion, and we lost the direct contact number for the syndicate buyer."
"Without that number, the buyer will simply disappear back into the shadows and continue buying children."
I stared at her, my mind racing back to the terrifying chaos of the burning basement.
"I have the number," I said quietly, remembering the computer server hidden behind the water heater.
"My dad backed up everything on a hidden server, including his text messages and financial wire transfers."
Agent Carter sighed heavily, a look of deep regret crossing her professional face.
"Your house burned to the foundation, kid," she said softly.
"The fire department confirmed the basement was completely incinerated, and all the hard drives melted into useless slag."
I felt a cold wave of panic wash over me as our only piece of evidence evaporated.
But then I remembered something entirely different, a tiny detail from the very beginning of the nightmare.
"The glass jar," I whispered, sitting up straight in my chair.
Agent Carter frowned, looking at me with total confusion.
"What glass jar?" she asked.
"The one Elaine put my brother in before the police arrived at my house," I explained rapidly.
"When I hit her with the fire extinguisher, I saw her slip a tiny black flash drive underneath the metal lid before she passed out."
Carter stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.
"Who has that jar right now?" Carter demanded.
"The corrupt local detective took it as evidence when they arrested me," I replied.
Carter's face went completely pale, and she immediately reached for her radio.
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"Lock down the local precinct immediately," Carter ordered into her microphone.
"The detective just walked out the back door with the evidence five minutes ago," the radio crackled back.
