Chapter 10 - The Interrogation Under the Beacons
The blinding beam of the police flashlight cut through the darkness, pinning David, Maya, and Marcus in its harsh white glare. A tall, middle-aged officer with graying temples and a stern expression stepped forward, his boots crunching steadily on the gravel as he approached the group. He looked from the open duffel bag filled with electronics to the terrified teenager standing in his socks, and finally to David and Maya, who stood shielding their son with protective instincts.
"Step away from the property and put your hands where I can see them," the officer commanded, his voice carrying the practiced authority of a veteran cop. "Nobody move a muscle."
"Officer, it's alright, we live just down the road," David said calmly, holding his hands up at shoulder level to show he was unarmed. "We're his parents. We came looking for him."
"Parents or not, you're standing in the middle of an active breaking and entering site next to a cache of stolen goods," the officer replied, stopping a few feet away and shining his light directly into Marcus's face. "Son, what's your name? Care to explain what you're doing out here in the middle of the night without shoes, standing over stolen property?"
Marcus shrank back, opening his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He looked down at the ground, paralyzed by fear and the crushing weight of his own terrible choices.
Maya stepped forward, her voice trembling but resolute. "Officer, please. He made a terrible mistake, but he didn't steal those items. He was trapped by someone else—an older kid at his school. We have proof on our home computer. We can show you everything."
The officer lowered his flashlight slightly, his gaze shifting back and forth between the pleading mother and the silent, guilt-ridden boy. He had seen this exact scenario play out a hundred times before: a kid trying to look tough, getting in over his head with local fences, and dragging his family down into the wreckage with him.
"Look, folks, I've been on this force for twenty years," the officer said, his tone softening just a fraction, though still strictly professional. "Stolen property is a felony offense in this state, regardless of whether he was the mastermind or just the delivery boy. If we log this bag into evidence right now, your son is looking at mandatory detention, and his name goes into the system. There's no turning back from that."
David felt a cold sweat break out across his back. He looked at Marcus, really looked at him—not as a rebellious teenager glued to a smartphone screen, but as a terrified boy who had wandered blindly into a dark forest and couldn't find his way out.
"What are our options, Officer?" David asked quietly, stepping closer to the patrol car.
The officer glanced down the dark access road where the dealer's truck had vanished minutes earlier. "The guy who dropped that bag—tall, shaved head, driving a beat-up Ford?"
"Yes," David nodded. "That's him."
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"We've been tracking that syndicate for six months," the officer said, leaning in slightly. "If your son is willing to tell us everything he knows right now—names, locations, and how he got mixed up with them—we might be able to use him as an informant instead of locking him up tonight. But it has to start right now, in the back of my cruiser."
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