Chapter 2 - The Interrogation Room
The lead officer was a broad-shouldered detective named Miller. He wore a dark suit, carried a black leather notepad, and had eyes that looked like they had seen every variation of human cruelty in the city.
"Emily Vance?" Detective Miller asked, stepping beside my bed.
"Yes," I said.
Daniel stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the linoleum. "What is this? Who called you?"
"Mrs. Vance called emergency services to report an assault," Miller replied, pulling a pen from his jacket pocket. "Sir, I need you to step outside into the hallway while I take the victim's statement."
"I am her husband!" Daniel barked, his face flushing deep red. "This is a private family tragedy! She’s delirious from the medication! She lost our children hours ago—she doesn't know what she's saying!"
Detective Miller didn't argue. He turned his head toward his partner. "Officer Hayes, escort Mr. Vance to the waiting room."
"You can't do this!" Daniel shouted as the second officer firmly took his arm, guiding him toward the door. "Emily, tell them to stop! Emily!"
I didn't look at him. I kept my eyes on Detective Miller.
"He tried to get me to stay quiet," I told Miller the second the door closed. "His mother, Margaret Vance, pushed me down the stairs at our home at 7:15 this morning after I confronted her about stealing money from our bank accounts."
Miller sat down in the chair Daniel had just vacated. "Did anyone else witness the fall, Mrs. Vance?"
"No," I said. "But the upstairs hallway camera captured the assault."
Miller stopped writing. He looked up, his eyebrows rising. "You have video footage?"
"I have a high-definition recording with high-fidelity directional audio," I said, pulling my phone from under my pillow. "I have already transferred the encrypted master file to my attorney, but I can play the primary clip for you right now."
I unlocked the screen and pressed play.
The tiny speaker filled the quiet hospital room.
The sound of Margaret’s sharp, mocking voice hit the air: "You think having Daniel's babies makes you important? You're temporary."
Then my voice: "Don't touch me, Margaret."
Then the sound of the shove, Margaret's words—"You should have learned your place"—and the terrible, thumping crash of my body tumbling down fourteen hardwood steps.
Detective Miller watched the screen. When the clip ended, his jaw was clenched so tight a muscle twitched in his cheek.
"I need a copy of this file for official evidence, Mrs. Vance," Miller said, his tone shifting from routine procedure to sharp criminal investigation. "And I need your permission to dispatch a crime scene unit to your home immediately."
"You have it," I said. "The house key is in my bag. The server unit is in the study closet."
"Where is Margaret Vance right now?"
"At our home," I replied. "Cleaning up, most likely."
Miller stood up, snapping his notepad shut. "She won't be cleaning for long. I'm calling in a arrest warrant for aggravated assault resulting in termination of pregnancy."
"Thank you, Detective," I whispered.
May you like
"Mrs. Vance," Miller paused at the door, looking back at me with a mixture of respect and sympathy. "Most people in your situation freeze. How did you manage to secure all this so quickly?"
"I investigate corporate fraud for a living, Detective," I said, leaning my head back against the white pillow. "I know how fast evidence disappears when guilty people realize they've been caught."
