Chapter 6 - The Interrogation Room
At 4:00 PM, inside the cold, windowless interrogation room of the Central Police Precinct, Marcus Sterling sat at a metal table. He had stripped off his jacket and unbuttoned his collar, but he still looked like a man trying to maintain the illusion of control.
Beside him sat his high-priced corporate defense attorney, Richard Hayes—a man known for slick suits and quick out-of-court settlements.
“This is a routine domestic dispute, Detective,” Hayes was saying smugly to Detective Jack Vance, who sat across the table with a manila folder. “My client is a high-standing executive. His wife has a history of emotional instability. We are prepared to post bail immediately and address these baseless assault allegations in due course.”
“Is that right?” Jack asked, folding his hands. “And how do you explain the blood spatter matching Mrs. Sterling’s DNA found hidden under a five-thousand-dollar rug in your client’s garage?”
Hayes didn't flinch. “An unfortunate household accident. Mrs. Sterling tripped. My client panicked. It’s a misdemeanor at worst.”
The heavy steel door of the interrogation room clicked open.
Marcus looked up, expecting another officer. Instead, I walked into the room. I was wearing my dark gray wool blazer, my silver hair pinned back neatly, holding a thick leather briefcase.
Marcus scoffed, shaking his head. “Eleanor? What is she doing here? Get her out of here! This is a police interrogation, not a family meeting!”
Hayes raised a hand. “Ma’am, you cannot be in here. I am advising my client not to speak to—”
“Sit down, Mr. Hayes,” I said, my voice cutting through the room with such crisp, lethal authority that both Hayes and Marcus froze.
I walked over to the table, set my briefcase down with a heavy thud, and opened it. I drew out a laminated badge wallet and placed it flat on the stainless steel surface between Marcus and his lawyer.
Marcus leaned forward, frowning as he read the silver lettering stamped around the seal: DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE — CHIEF PROSECUTOR, SPECIAL FINANCIAL CRIMES & VIOLENT OFFENSES TASK FORCE (RETIRED).
Marcus’s blood drained from his face. “What... what is this?”
“That is what I did for twenty-four years, Marcus,” I said calmly, sitting down in the chair beside Detective Vance. “While you were busy inflating expense reports and playing golf with corporate board members, I was putting men far more powerful and dangerous than you into federal penitentiaries.”
Hayes leaned in close to inspect the badge, his smug demeanor instantly evaporating. “Mrs. Vance... you’re retired. You have no standing here.”
“I have standing as the court-appointed legal representative for the victim,” I replied, pulling a thick stack of financial ledgers and bank statements from my briefcase—the documents Chloe had mailed to my house, which I had picked up an hour ago. “And I have standing as a special consultant to the United States Attorney’s Office, who just authorized the execution of federal seizure warrants on all accounts associated with Sovereign Management LLC.”
Marcus gasped, his hands dropping to his lap. “Sovereign... how do you know about that?”
“Chloe knows,” I said, staring at him with cold satisfaction. “Chloe is a senior structural engineer. She notices when the math doesn't add up. She tracked the three point two million dollars you siphoned from the city bridge renovation contract into your mother’s offshore account in Nevis.”
“That’s... that’s a lie!” Marcus stammered, looking frantically at his lawyer. “Richard, tell her she can't do this!”
Hayes looked at the bank logs on the table, then looked at me, his eyes wide with professional terror. He knew the federal sentencing guidelines for municipal corruption and wire fraud.
“Marcus,” Hayes whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “Shut up. Don't say another word.”
“It gets worse, Marcus,” I continued, leaning forward across the table. “Because you used interstate commerce—a bus line crossing state boundaries—to transport a severely injured crime victim in order to conceal a federal felony, the US Attorney has added charges of Unlawful Restraint and Interstate Extradition Tampering.”
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I stood up, closing my briefcase with a sharp click.
“Your bail hearing is tomorrow morning at nine,” I said softly. “I’ve already spoken to the presiding judge. You aren't getting bail, Marcus. You’re staying right here until your trial.”
