Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Room
Down at the County Sheriff’s Headquarters, the air inside Interrogation Room B was cold, sterile, and smelled of floor wax and stale coffee.
Julian sat at the stainless-steel table wearing a orange county detention jumpsuit, his hands cuffed to an iron ring bolted to the center of the table.
His hair was unwashed, his face gaunt, and dark purple circles were carved deep beneath his eyes.
Across from him sat Prosecutor Sarah Thorne and Detective Sarah Jenkins.
Behind the two-way mirror in the dark observation room stood Marcus Vance and myself.
Prosecutor Thorne laid three thick black binders flat on the table in front of Julian.
“Julian,” Prosecutor Thorne began, her voice flat, clinical, and devoid of warmth.
“Your wife, Chloe, is currently sitting in Interrogation Room C.”
“She signed a formal proffer statement forty-five minutes ago.”
Julian’s head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes wide with panic. “What?! What did she say?!”
“She stated under oath that the entire operation—the physical violence, the rope bindings, the property theft, and the sedatives—was entirely your idea,” Prosecutor Thorne lied smoothly.
“She claims she was an abused wife who was forced to comply out of fear for her own life.”
Inside the observation room, I watched Julian’s face transform into a mask of pure, unadulterated shock, followed rapidly by explosive rage.
“That lying, demonic bitch!” Julian roared, slamming his cuffed hands against the steel table.
CLANG!
“She planned everything!” Julian shrieked, leaning forward over his chains, sweat dripping from his nose.
“She brought Dr. Sterling into this! She was the one who mixed the liquid drops into Mom’s tea every night!”
“She told me if I didn't help her clear my debts through Mom’s estate, she’d leave me to get killed by Victor Cross!”
“Did you tie your mother to the bedposts, Julian?” Detective Jenkins interjected coldly.
Julian stammered, his posture collapsing into a pathetic, weeping heap.
“Only... only when she tried to run outside!” Julian wept, tears smearing across his dirty face.
“She was screaming for the neighbors! Chloe told me to secure her so the police wouldn't come!”
“I didn't want to hurt her! I love my mother!”
“You sat in her living room while she bled beneath her coat, Julian,” I spoke into the microphone from the observation room, my voice piping clearly through the wall speaker into the interrogation room.
Julian froze, staring directly at the dark glass mirror, hearing my voice.
“Elena...” Julian whimpered, pressing his forehead against the cold metal table.
“Elena, please... tell them... I’m your brother! We grew up together! Chloe manipulated me!”
“You sold our mother’s safety for a loan shark, Julian,” my voice echoed through the speaker.
May you like
“You are not my brother. You are merely a ghost waiting for a prison sentence.”
Julian let out a ragged, broken sob as Prosecutor Thorne closed the file and walked out of the room, leaving him alone in the cold, bright light.
