Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Room “Mr. Vance, I need you to sign these preliminary intake forms.”
“Can I go see my son now? The nurse said visiting hours are open.”
“Not yet. Detective Miller wants a formal statement first.”
“I already told the officer on the scene what happened.”
“A patrol statement is different from a formal record, sir.”
“Let’s get this over with then. Where is the interrogation room?”
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The precinct station was quiet, save for the hum of a flickering fluorescent light overhead and the distant clatter of a typewriter in the records pool. Adrian sat at a scarred metal table, his bandaged hand resting awkwardly on the cold surface while Detective Vance—no relation, a bitter coincidence—slid a thick folder across the room. The room smelled of stale coffee, old paper, and cheap cleaning supplies, a stark departure from the plush mahogany boardrooms where Adrian usually operated. He looked down at the paperwork, his name printed boldly at the top of an arrest warrant request for felony child endangerment and criminal negligence. The detective sat down opposite him, his sleeves rolled up to reveal thick forearms covered in faded scars that spoke of a very different life on the streets. He didn’t offer pleasantries or pretend to sympathize with the stress of the corporate merger. Instead, he simply tapped a digital recorder on the center of the table and pressed the glowing red button. The mechanical click echoed loudly in the small, windowless box, marking the official beginning of Adrian’s legal descent. The detective leaned back in his squeaking metal chair, fixing Adrian with a piercing, analytical stare that seemed to strip away all his defenses. Adrian swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper, knowing that every word he spoke from this moment forward could either mitigate his sentence or seal his fate in a state penitentiary. He began to recount the timeline of the morning, his voice steadying out of sheer survival instinct, though his internal world remained a smoking ruin.
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