Chapter 2 - The Interrogation Room
The hospital waiting room was a blur of sterile white walls and pitying glances. Detective Miller didn’t offer pity. He offered a cheap cup of coffee and a stare that had cracked lesser men. We were in a tiny, windowless consultation room.
"Your wife’s dead, Mr. Vance. Your kids are fighting for their lives. And you're the only one who walked away without a scratch," Miller said, leaning over the metal table. "Care to explain that?"
I looked at my hands. They were still stained with Clara’s blood. "I didn't drink the cider," I said, my voice dead flat. "I drink beer with my turkey. You know that if you asked anyone at that table."
"I did ask," Miller countered. "Your mother-in-law, Eleanor, says you and Clara were having marital problems. Said you took out a massive life insurance policy last month."
My blood ran ice cold. A policy Clara insisted on for the kids. Eleanor knew that. Why was she spinning it?
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I had my phone in my pocket. The home security footage was loaded on the app, showing a blurred arm dropping a capsule into the crystal pitcher. But if I gave it to the cops, they’d bungle it. They’d lawyer up. I needed to hunt them my way. "Am I under arrest, Detective?" I asked, standing up.
"Not yet," Miller warned. "Don't leave town." "I'm not going anywhere," I whispered. "I have a family to avenge."
