Chapter 2 - The Interrogation Room
Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the federal holding facility, Arthur looked smaller. Striped of his tailored suit and dressed in standard-issue orange, the polished community leader was gone, replaced by a sweating, desperate bully. He sat across the steel table from Marcus and me, his fingers nervously drumming against the metal.
"This is an illegal detention," Arthur snarled, though his voice lacked its usual smooth conviction. "I was visiting my stepdaughter. I carry that firearm for personal protection. I want my attorney."
Marcus slammed a thick manila folder onto the table, the sound making Arthur flinch. "Your attorney has already been notified, Mr. Sterling. But before he gets here, I suggest you look at what we filed with the magistrate an hour ago."
I slid the photos across the table. They were high-resolution forensic images of my mother’s bruises, medical scans of her fractured rib from six months prior, and financial transcripts showing the systematic draining of her retirement accounts into a shell company registered in Delaware.
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"You thought you were leaving no trace," I said coldly, leaning in so he had to look me in the eye. "You thought because Clara was terrified, she wouldn't document a thing. But every time you threatened her, she logged the date and time. And when you threatened her on a recorded line across state lines, you elevated a domestic dispute into a federal stalking and extortion case."
Arthur’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting toward the two-way mirror. For the first time since I had met him, Arthur Sterling was completely silent. He realized this wasn't a local precinct he could bribe or charm his way out of; this was the federal machine, and the gears were already turning.
