Chapter 5 - The Interrogation Room
The fluorescent lights of the downtown precinct buzzed with a relentless, maddening hum. I sat in the observation room behind a sheet of one-way glass, watching my brother squirm in a bolted metal chair. The arrogant, untouchable smirk he had worn all my life was entirely gone, replaced by a jittery, panicked desperation.
Detective Vance sat across from him, tossing a thick manila folder onto the steel table with a sharp thud.
"Let’s stop wasting each other’s time, Ryan," Vance said smoothly. "We have the original medical intake from St. Jude’s, we have your sister’s official statement, and we have the statements from the responding paramedics. Furthermore, our financial crimes unit is currently looking into how your father’s legal team managed to pay off three different administrative clerks to bury these files."
Ryan swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the sterile room. "It was a mistake. Eli was acting out. Kids need discipline, or they grow up soft. Ask my mother—she agrees with me."
"Your mother isn't sitting in this chair, Ryan. You are," Vance leaned in close. "And right now, you're looking at twenty-five years for aggravated child abuse and systematic endangerment. Unless, of course, you want to start talking about what happened at the lake house last summer."
My breath caught in my throat. The lake house.
For years, rumors had swirled in our family about mysterious accidents, hushed-up scandals, and workers who suddenly quit and left town with suspicious severance packages. My parents always blamed my "wild imagination" whenever I asked questions.
On the other side of the glass, Ryan’s face lost every ounce of color. He gripped the edge of the metal table so hard his knuckles turned bone-white.
"I... I didn't mean to push him down the stairs," Ryan stammered, his voice cracking. "He wouldn't listen. He kept talking back. Dad said I needed to show strength. Dad said if I didn't handle him, the boy would ruin the family name."
Inside the observation room, my hands curled into tight fists. My own father had engineered this monster. He had created a toxic, abusive dynasty built on fear, intimidation, and absolute control, using Ryan as his personal enforcer whenever anyone stepped out of line.
"Write it down," Vance instructed, sliding a pen across the table. "Every single incident. Every time your father covered for you. Every time your mother looked the other way. Because if you think for one second your family is going to sacrifice themselves to save you, you're out of your mind. Your father’s lawyers are already filing papers to distance themselves from your individual criminal liabilities."
Ryan stared at the pen like it was a venomous snake. Slowly, trembling violently, he picked it up.
May you like
The door behind me creaked open. I turned to see Dr. Jenkins standing there, holding a fresh chart.
"Clara," she said softly. "Eli just woke up. He’s asking for you."
