Chapter 9 - THE CONFRONTATION
Three days later.
The high-security visitation room at the Multnomah County Detention Center was cold, sterile, and smelled of industrial floor wax.
I sat on one side of the thick plexiglass window, wearing my signature tailored suit.
On the other side sat Derek Voss.
He was dressed in an orange inmate jumpsuit. His hair was messy, his jaw unshaven, and the arrogant, polished smile he had worn for seven years was completely eradicated. He looked broken, defeated, and terrified.
He picked up the heavy plastic phone receiver with trembling hands. I picked up mine.
“You ruined my life,” Derek rasped into the receiver, his eyes filled with pure bitterness. “You came into my home and you destroyed everything.”
“You ruined your own life the day you laid a hand on my sister,” I replied, my voice as smooth and cold as marble. “Did you really think she didn't have anyone looking out for her? Did you think because she was quiet, she was alone?”
Derek slammed his fist against the metal counter. “She was mine! I took care of her! I gave her a home!”
“You kept her locked outside like an animal,” I countered sharply. “You burned her skin. You poisoned her food. You stole her identity and tried to steal her inheritance.”
Derek let out a cruel, bitter laugh. “It doesn't matter. My lawyer says the toxicological evidence is circumstantial. Marlene will take the rap for the drug dosing. I’ll be out on bail in six months.”
I offered him a cold, amused smile.
“You won't be getting bail, Derek.”
His smile faded. “What are you talking about?”
I pulled a thin sheet of paper out of my briefcase and pressed it flat against the plexiglass window for him to read.
“This morning, the United States District Attorney filed federal racketeering, wire fraud, identity theft, and aggravated human trafficking charges against you, your mother, and Dr. Arthur Sterling,” I explained calmly. “Dr. Sterling cut a plea deal two hours ago. He turned over state's evidence, including video recordings of you paying him cash to falsify Caroline’s psychiatric reports.”
Derek’s face drained of all color. His hand trembled so violently he almost dropped the phone receiver.
“And as for your offshore gambling debts?” I continued, leaning in closer. “When Vanguard acquired the debt obligations from your bookmakers, we filed an immediate judicial seizure on your house. The Voss home is officially foreclosed. Your mother and sister are homeless, facing twenty years in state prison.”
“You... you took the house?” Derek gasped, tears of panic finally brimming in his eyes.
“I bought it for pennies on the dollar,” I said softly. “And yesterday afternoon, I brought a demolition crew to the property.”
Derek stared at me in complete horror. “What?!”
“I had the whole house smashed to the ground, Derek,” I whispered, every word packed with absolute finality. “Every brick, every wall, every inch of that hellhole where you tortured my sister is now a pile of dirt in a landfill. There is nothing left of your family’s legacy. Nothing.”
Derek gripped the phone receiver so hard his knuckles turned purple, his mouth opening and closing in soundless, agonizing defeat.
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“Enjoy federal prison, Derek,” I said, slowly setting the receiver back on its cradle.
I stood up, adjusted my jacket, and walked out of the visitation room without looking back once.
