Chapter 2
The interrogation room smelled of stale black coffee, cheap pine cleaner, and the heavy, suffocating scent of bureaucratic dread. The metal table between Arthur and the two interrogating detectives felt miles wide. Under the harsh fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, Arthur looked older, his white hair disheveled and his blue cardigan stained with grass from the park. He kept his handcuffed wrists resting quietly on the scarred tabletop, staring intently at a microscopic scratch in the wood grain.
"Let's not make this harder than it has to be, Arthur," Detective Vance said, sliding a manila folder across the table. "You've been off the grid for five years. Using alias after alias, bouncing from town to town. And now, you pop up in Maplewood with a toddler who matches the genetic profile of the missing Kensington heir."
Arthur refused to look up. His jaw tightened, the skin pulling taut over his hollow cheeks. "Ellie is my granddaughter. I raised her since her parents died in that fiery crash in Seattle. You know that as well as I do."
"Do we?" Detective Miller leaned in close, the smell of peppermint gum masking stale tobacco. "Because the Kensington estate was emptied of forty million dollars the exact same week your daughter vanished. And the nanny who disappeared with the baby? She happened to be your estranged niece."
"Circumstantial garbage," Arthur whispered, his voice steady despite the absolute storm raging inside his chest. "I protected that child from the people who murdered her parents. And now you're handing her right back to them."
"Nobody is handing her anywhere yet," Vance replied smoothly, tapping a finger against the folder. "Child Protective Services has her in custody. She’s scared, she’s crying, and she keeps asking for her grandfather. But you can change all of that right now. Sign the confession, admit you snatched the Kensington heiress for ransom, and maybe we let you see her one last time before transfer."
Arthur finally raised his head. His eyes, usually kind and warm when looking at Ellie, burned with a cold, terrifying intensity that made Miller instinctively lean back in his chair.
"You think this is about money?" Arthur muttered softly, leaning forward until his face was inches from the detective's. "You have no idea what is coming for this town, or for that little girl. The men pulling your strings aren't police officers. They're cleaners."
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Before Vance could respond, the heavy steel door of the interrogation room swung open violently, revealing the police chief with a tablet in his hand, his face deathly pale.
"We have a massive problem," the chief whispered, staring directly at Arthur. "The holding facility where the girl was taken... it just went completely dark."
