Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Room
The observation room at the Great Lakes Naval Base was cold, smelling of stale black coffee and ozone from the continuous hum of recording equipment.
Through the one-way glass, Ryan sat at a steel table under the glare of a single overhead fluorescent bulb. He looked entirely different from the man who had terrorized our apartment just hours ago. His shirt collar was unbuttoned, his tie was gone, and his hands were cuffed to a metal loop bolted straight into the tabletop.
I stood beside my father in the darkened observation booth, my arms crossed over my growing belly. Beside us, Special Agent Vance—no relation to the corrupt lawyer now sitting in a neighboring holding cell—tapped a pen against his clipboard.
“We’ve cracked the encrypted partition on his laptop,” Agent Vance said, keeping his eyes fixed on the live feed. “Your father’s flash drive gave us the master key. It wasn't just corporate embezzlement, Colonel. Ryan and his uncle were routing subcontracts meant for base housing infrastructure into offshore accounts, using Emily’s digital signature as an unwitting proxy.”
“And the physical abuse?” Dad asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous register that made the agent glance sideways.
“Documented, photographed, and corroborated by the medical evaluation we pulled from the local ER clinic where Linda forced her to go under a fake name last month,” Vance replied steadily. “He’s looking at a minimum of fifteen years in a federal penitentiary. No parole.”
On the other side of the glass, the heavy metal door of the interrogation room swung open.
Richard Vance Sr. was led in by an armed guard and seated directly across from his nephew. Richard looked pale, defeated, and furious. For a long moment, neither man spoke. Then, through the soundproof glass, we watched Richard lean forward, his face twisting into a mask of bitter rage as he hissed something at Ryan.
Ryan flinched, his eyes widening in sudden, unadulterated panic.
“They’re starting to turn on each other,” Agent Vance observed quietly. “It’s only a matter of time before Ryan gives up the rest of the syndicate in exchange for a lighter sentence.”
“Let them tear each other apart,” Dad said coldly. He turned to me, his hand resting softly on my shoulder. “Emmy, you don't need to watch this anymore. Let’s get you back upstairs to rest.”
May you like
I shook my head, my eyes locked on Ryan’s panicked face through the glass. “No, Dad. For months, I sat in that dark bedroom believing I was entirely trapped, that they held all the power in the world. I need to see how small they look when the walls finally come down.”
---
