Chapter 3 - The Interrogation Room
The interrogation room smelled of stale coffee, old floor wax, and the quiet despair of everyone who had ever sat in the bolted metal chair. Justin sat slumped in the oversized seat, his feet dangling inches above the scuffed linoleum floor, the handcuffs finally removed but replaced by a heavy wooden table bolted to the ground.
Clara sat directly behind him, her hand resting firmly on his small shoulder, trying to project a calmness she was far from feeling. Across the table sat Detective Miller, the male officer from her front porch, alongside a sharp-eyed woman in a tailored federal suit who hadn't introduced herself.
"Let's try this again, Justin," Detective Miller said, sliding a glossy photograph across the metal surface. The image showed a manicured suburban lawn with a neat pattern of tire tracks. "Do you recognize this property? It belongs to Dr. Aris Thorne, chief cryptographer for the Department of Defense. He hasn't been seen since Thursday morning."
Justin stared at the photo, his lower lip trembling as he shook his head. "I just cut the grass, I swear. Dr. Thorne paid me forty dollars and gave me a thumb drive to plug into his automated sprinkler box so the water pressure would stay balanced."
"That thumb drive didn't balance water pressure, kid," the federal agent said, her voice like crushed glass. "It uploaded a master decryption key for a satellite defense grid. And according to our logs, your lawnmower's GPS tracker was parked right outside his window for exactly forty-two minutes while he was being abducted."
Clara pulled Justin closer, shielding him from the accusatory glare. "He's twelve years old! He doesn't know what a decryption key is! He thinks in terms of grass heights and baseball cards!"
"Mrs. Hayes, your son's laptop was found hidden inside his lawnmower deck," the federal agent replied coldly, sliding a second photo forward. This one showed the underside of a red push-mower modified with a custom circuit board wired directly to the spark plug. "He built a localized Wi-Fi repeater powered by the engine's alternator. He was broadcasting stolen data up and down three blocks without ever touching a home router."
Justin kept his eyes glued to the table, whispering so quietly Clara had to lean in to hear him. "The Groundsman said if I didn't finish the upload, he would hurt you, Mom."
The room went dead silent. Detective Miller and the federal agent exchanged a sharp look, the dynamic of the interrogation shifting instantly from suspicion to acute danger.
"When was the last time this 'Groundsman' contacted you?" Miller asked, leaning forward.
May you like
Before Justin could answer, the overhead fluorescent lights flickered violently twice and then died, plunging the windowless room into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
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