Chapter 8 - The Interrogation
Red and blue lights blinded me as heavily armed officers rushed out of their vehicles.
"Get on the ground and put your hands behind your head!" a tactical officer screamed over a bullhorn.
I did not resist, slowly dropping to my knees on the cold concrete.
Rough hands grabbed my arms, slamming me down and securing cold steel handcuffs around my wrists.
I was shoved into the back of a police cruiser and driven directly to the central precinct.
They threw me into a sterile, windowless interrogation room and left me alone for two agonizing hours.
My mind raced, trying to figure out how to present the evidence on my drive without them immediately confiscating and burying it.
Finally, the heavy metal door swung open, and a tall, stern detective walked in.
He threw a thick file folder onto the metal table and sat across from me.
"Clara Vance, you are being charged with the first-degree murder of Arthur Vance," the detective stated flatly.
"I didn't kill him," I replied, keeping my voice as calm and professional as possible.
"We have security footage of you entering his building on the night of the murder," he countered, sliding a blurry photo across the table.
"I was there to steal documents, not to kill him," I admitted freely, knowing the truth was my only weapon.
The detective raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my immediate confession to a lesser felony.
"I am a senior risk auditor, Detective, and my husband's family is using a shell company to launder millions."
"They murdered Arthur to tie up loose ends and framed me so they could steal my estate."
The detective leaned back and laughed, a harsh, dismissive sound.
"That is a wildly creative story, Mrs. Vance, but your husband has been terrified for his life."
"He claims you suffered a psychotic break, drained your own accounts, and killed Arthur when he discovered your embezzlement."
I realized Eric and Eleanor had already beaten me to the police, establishing their victim narrative perfectly.
"Check the pocket of my trench coat," I told the detective confidently.
"There is an encrypted auditing drive containing the actual wire transfers, IP addresses, and audio recordings of Eleanor confessing to the murder."
The detective frowned, pulled a plastic evidence bag from his jacket, and placed my drive on the table.
"We already ran this drive through our cyber unit," he said slowly.
"It is completely wiped clean, Mrs. Vance."
My heart plummeted into my stomach.
May you like
The Halon gas suppression system in the server room utilized a massive electromagnetic pulse to shut down compromised hardware.
My escape had completely erased the only piece of evidence that could save my life.
