Chapter 7 - The Interrogation of Shadows
The harsh fluorescent light above hummed with a low, irritating buzz, casting long, skeletal shadows across the metal interrogation table. Marcus Vance’s calm, authoritative facade cracked for a fraction of a second, his pupils dilating as the true weight of Arthur’s words sank in.
“What did you say?” Marcus asked, his voice dropping an octave, losing its polished veneer and revealing the desperate predator beneath.
Arthur chuckled softly, leaning back into the hard metal chair despite the biting pain of the handcuffs. He didn't break eye contact with his uncle, enjoying the sudden twitch in Marcus’s left eye—a sure sign that the patriarch was losing control.
“You heard me, Uncle,” Arthur whispered smoothly, his voice echoing in the cramped, windowless room. “You spent twenty years scrubbing Caroline from history. You burned her belongings, you paid off the medical examiners, you staged that brutal carriage accident on the cliffs. But you missed a spot. You forgot that Caroline wasn't just a poor seamstress from the slums. She was smarter than all of us combined.”
Marcus slammed both palms down onto the steel table, standing up so violently that his chair screeched loudly against the concrete floor. “You arrogant fool! Do you honestly believe a rusty little piece of metal is going to save you? The police have you on a murder charge. Julian is dead, your wife has already signed affidavits detailing your mental breakdown, and the press is tearing your legacy apart piece by piece. You are legally, socially, and politically dead, Arthur.”
“Maybe,” Arthur replied, his expression hardening into absolute ice. “But a dead man has nothing left to lose. And unlike you, I know what's buried beneath the floorboards of the ancestral manor.”
Marcus froze, his breathing turning shallow and rapid. For all his wealth and terrifying influence, Marcus had one fatal weakness: paranoia. The underground vault beneath the main estate didn't just hold old family financial records; it held the original signed confessions, offshore bank routing numbers, and illegal land grabs that had built the Vance empire on blood and extortion. If anyone unlocked that vault, the entire dynasty would crumble overnight.
“Where is the key, Arthur?” Marcus demanded, stepping closer, his face inches from Arthur’s. “Tell me where you hid it, and maybe—just maybe—I can convince the district attorney to drop the murder charge to manslaughter. You could spend a few quiet years in a minimum-security facility instead of rotting in a maximum-security hellhole.”
Arthur smiled coldly, lifting his bound hands just enough to let the chains rattle. “Go ahead. Search me. Strip me down to my skin. You won't find it on my body, Marcus. Because the key isn't the only thing Caroline left behind.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “What are you talking about?”
Before Arthur could answer, the heavy steel door of the interrogation room swung open with a loud metallic bang. Captain Thomas stood in the doorway, looking grave, holding a clear plastic evidence bag containing a small, bloodstained object.
“Mr. Vance,” Captain Thomas said, ignoring Marcus entirely as he stepped into the room. “We just finished processing the crime scene at the ballroom. We found something else near the marble pillar where you were hiding the little girl.”
Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. He braced himself, praying to God they hadn't found Lily or any other hidden letters.
Captain Thomas held up the plastic bag. Inside was a heavy, old-fashioned silver pocket watch—the exact watch Arthur's father had gifted him on his twenty-first birthday, a watch Arthur had supposedly lost the night Caroline disappeared twenty years ago.
And engraved on the back of the silver casing, clearly visible under the harsh light, was a fresh smudge of dark, dried blood—not Julian’s blood, but a different DNA profile entirely.
“This was found clenched in Julian’s dead hand,” Captain Thomas said, his eyes locking onto Arthur with a cold, accusing glare. “And according to the lab rush, the blood on this watch doesn't belong to Julian, and it doesn't belong to you, Arthur.”
Marcus stepped back, a slow, wicked grin returning to his face as he looked at the pocket watch. “Well, Captain. It looks like my nephew's little charade is finally over.”
May you like
Captain Thomas nodded grimly, stepping aside to let two armed guards enter the room. “Arthur Vance, you're not just being charged with murder. We just received a positive DNA match on the blood. It belongs to a man who was supposed to have died in a fire twenty years ago—Caroline’s brother.”
---
