Chapter 7 - The Blue-Light Interrogation
The kitchen transformed into a staging ground for law enforcement within seconds. Officer Miller, a broad-shouldered veteran with a stern expression, immediately swept his weapon past Arthur—who was still standing over the wreckage of the liquor cabinet holding his daughter—and locked his sights onto Marcus, who was groaning beneath a pile of broken glass and expensive liquor bottles.
"Stay right where you are! Put your hands behind your back!" Miller barked, stepping forward to kick a heavy silver handgun away from Marcus’s reach as it slid across the spilled flour.
Two backup officers swarmed in, slamming plastic zip-ties around Marcus’s wrists with practiced efficiency and hauling him up to his feet. Glass shards clung to the shoulders of his charcoal suit, and a dark trickle of blood ran down from a cut near his hairline.
"You're making a massive mistake," Marcus snarled, his face twisted in rage as they dragged him past the kitchen island toward the front foyer. "I demand a phone call to my legal counsel! This is a civil corporate dispute, not a criminal matter!"
"Tell it to the desk sergeant, Mr. Vance," Officer Miller replied coldly, pushing him toward the exit. He then turned his attention to Arthur, his tone softening only slightly as he looked at the baby. "Mr. Vance? Are you and the child alright? Dispatch said there was an assault and a weapons call."
"We're physically intact, Officer," Arthur said, his voice dangerously steady, though his chest heaved with residual adrenaline. He carefully pulled the matte-black flash drive out of his pocket and extended it toward the officer. "My business partner attempted an illegal asset transfer and conspired to compromise my home security. That flash drive contains every encrypted transaction record, shell-company routing number, and digital confession linked to the scheme."
Miller took the drive, sliding it carefully into an evidence bag. "We'll need you down at the precinct to sign formal statements, sir. Both of you." He glanced over at Laura, who was still huddled near the pantry, shaking uncontrollably, and then down at me, leaning against the counter with blood on my delivery shirt and groceries scattered everywhere. "And the delivery driver?"
"He saved my daughter’s life," Arthur said unequivocally, stepping over a broken carton of milk to stand beside me. He placed a firm, grateful hand on my uninjured shoulder. "If Leo hadn't walked through that door thirty seconds earlier, my child would have been severely injured by an intruder left in this house."
Officer Miller nodded, pulling out a small notepad. "Alright. We'll need a statement from you too, son. But first, you look like you need a medic to check that lip."
"I'm fine," I muttered, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Just... make sure they keep Maya away from this house. She’s the one who let him in."
Arthur’s head snapped up. "Maya? Where is she?"
Everyone turned to look toward the back patio doors. The sliding glass was cracked open an inch, and fluttering against the screen was a piece of paper pinned under a small stone—a hastily scrawled note left behind in the chaos.
May you like
Arthur walked over, slid the glass open, and snatched the note. He read the two lines scribbled across it, and the last remaining color drained entirely from his face.
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