Chapter 5 - The Interrogation
At 8:00 AM the following morning, I walked into the Precinct 4 Police Station wearing a tailored navy suit, carrying my leather briefcase, and accompanied by my senior legal advocate, Eleanor Vance—Marcus Vance's elder sister and one of the most formidable defense attorneys in the state.
The station was buzzing with morning activity. News of Daniel Sterling’s arrest had already leaked to the local business journals, and several reporters were already gathered outside the precinct doors, eager for a statement regarding the executive scandal.
Detective Marcus Vance met us in the hallway outside the interrogation rooms. He looked tired, his eyes bloodshot from an all-night shift.
"How are they holding up?" I asked, setting my briefcase on a nearby desk.
"Daniel hired Richard Sterling—his uncle’s high-priced defense attorney," Marcus said, leaning against the wall. "He’s maintaining his story. Claims you're suffering from a psychotic break, that you staged the whole thing because you found out about his affair with Vanessa. He says the white powder was a weight-loss supplement that Vanessa brought over."
"And Vanessa?" Eleanor asked, crossing her arms.
"Vanessa is starting to crack," Marcus revealed with a faint smile. "She’s in Interrogation Room B. Her court-appointed lawyer is in there with her now. She didn't realize that Daniel’s lawyer is only representing Daniel. When she realized Daniel was throwing her under the bus to save himself, she startedHyperventilating."
"I want to see her," I said directly.
Marcus hesitated. "Claire, you're the victim in this case. You can't participate in a formal interrogation."
"I'm not going in as an interrogator, Marcus," I replied smoothly. "I'm going in as the person who holds the keys to her freedom. Allow me five minutes with her and her attorney. Off the record, as a pre-filing consultation."
Marcus looked at Eleanor, who gave a subtle nod of approval. "Five minutes," Marcus warned. "No physical threats, no coercion."
"I don't need threats, Marcus," I said, opening the door to Interrogation Room B. "I have facts."
Vanessa was sitting at a metal table, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. Her expensive crimson dress was wrinkled, and her makeup was smeared across her cheeks. Sitting next to her was a young, visibly overwhelmed public defender named Thomas.
When Vanessa saw me walk into the room, she flinched, pulling back against her chair as if she expected me to attack her.
"Claire..." she whimpered, her voice raspy. "I... I didn't want to do it. It was Daniel! He made me!"
"Shut up, Vanessa," I said calmly, taking a seat directly across from her. Thomas opened his mouth to object, but Eleanor stepped into the room behind me and handed him a brief document. Thomas skimmed it, his eyes widening, and he quietly motioned for Vanessa to remain silent.
I placed a thick file folder on the metal table between us.
"Vanessa, I'm going to give you a lesson in criminal law," I began, my voice soft yet biting. "Right now, Daniel’s attorney is telling the police that you acted alone. He is claiming that you brought the chemical agent into my home without his knowledge, that you poured it into my glass because you were obsessed with taking my place, and that Daniel was merely a shocked bystander who tried to stop you."
Vanessa’s mouth dropped open in shock. "What?! That's a lie! He bought the powder! He got it from some dark web contact three weeks ago!"
"It doesn't matter what he told you in private," I continued coldly. "Without corroborating evidence, it’s your word against his. And right now, Daniel has a multi-million-dollar defense team, while you have a public defender who has fifty other cases on his desk today."
Vanessa turned to Thomas, her face pale with horror. "Is that true?! Is Daniel blaming me?!"
"Ms. Cross," Thomas said cautiously, "Mr. Sterling's counsel has indeed submitted a statement implying that you were the sole possessor of the illicit substance."
Vanessa burst into fresh tears, burying her face in her hands. "That bastard... he promised me we’d be in Cabo by next week! He promised me everything!"
"Listen to me very carefully, Vanessa," I leaned across the table, forcing her to look into my eyes. "The preliminary toxicology report on that foil packet will be back by noon. It contains a restricted neurotoxin. That carries a charge of attempted first-degree murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and dangerous substance delivery. You are looking at twenty-five to thirty years in a maximum-security state prison without the possibility of parole."
"Please..." Vanessa sobbed. "Please, Claire, I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you want!"
"You have one option," I said, sliding a written confession document toward her. "You sign a full, detailed statement admitting to the conspiracy, detailing Daniel’s procurement of the poison, and revealing every single detail about the offshore accounts and the forgery of my signature. You state on the record that Daniel was the mastermind who directed every step of this operation."
"And what do I get?" she asked desperately.
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"You get a plea deal for state's evidence," I answered coldly. "You'll do five years for conspiracy instead of thirty for attempted murder. That is the only mercy you will ever receive from me. You have ten minutes to decide before the State Attorney files the formal charges."
Vanessa didn't hesitate. She snatched the pen from the table and signed her name on the bottom line with trembling hands.
