Chapter 9: The Return to the Precinct
The rain had intensified into a steady downpour by the time the police cruiser pulled back into the precinct parking lot. The neon signs of the downtown district blurred into streaks of red and blue against the wet pavement. Inside the building, the atmosphere was a chaotic hum of late-night desk duty, ringing phones, and the sharp scent of ozone and cheap coffee.
Lily sat on a wooden bench in the corner of the waiting area, still refusing to part with her black leather handbag. A female desk sergeant had brought her a warm cup of cocoa with miniature marshmallows, but the girl had barely touched it, keeping her eyes fixed on the glass partition separating the bullpen from the private interview rooms. Through the blinds, she could see Victoria sitting across the table from two detectives in rumpled suits, her posture still rigid, though the defiant spark in her eyes had dimmed considerably.
Officer Miller walked over, holding a thick file folder stamped with red urgency markers. He handed a small, wrapped sandwich to Lily, who took it mechanically without breaking her gaze from the interview room.
“Your aunt is cooperating,” Miller said quietly, sitting down on the bench beside her. “Well, cooperating as much as someone who just lost a thirty-million-dollar portfolio can cooperate.”
“She didn’t lose it,” Lily murmured, taking a small bite of the sandwich. “She just has to share it now. That was always the rule. Daddy’s will said everything was split down the middle. Victoria just wanted the whole pie.”
Miller sighed, running a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Greed has a funny way of making people eat things that choke them eventually. What happens to you now, kid? You got any other family out in the county? An uncle? Grandparents?”
May you like
Lily shook her head, her messy blonde hair brushing against the collar of her grey hoodie. “Just Mama. And now… just Aunt Victoria, I guess. Unless the judge lets me go to the foster home on Elm Street. Mama said those places are loud, but at least people don't look at you like you're a corporate tax write-off.”
Miller felt a familiar, heavy knot tighten in his chest. He had seen too many children caught in the crossfire of adult greed and family warfare. He stood up, placing a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Let’s see what your aunt has to say when she walks out that door. People change when the walls finally cave in, kid. Sometimes they even surprise you.”
