Chapter 8 - The Interrogation Room
The interrogation room in the basement of the downtown precinct smelled of stale coffee, old paper, and profound desperation. Arthur Vance sat at the center of the scarred wooden table, looking entirely out of place in his bespoke Italian suit. He didn't wear handcuffs; instead, he casually adjusted his silver cufflinks while Detective Elena Ramos paced back and forth behind him, her boots clicking rhythmically against the linoleum floor.
"You're wasting your time, Detective," Arthur said smoothly, his voice dripping with condescension. "Holding a pillar of this community without formal charges is not just illegal; it’s an institutional embarrassment that will cost you your badge before the morning briefing."
Elena stopped pacing, leaning down so her face was level with his across the table.
"You can drop the corporate philanthropist act, Mr. Vance," Elena said, her voice laced with venom. "We know about the Aegis facility. We know about the human trials. And most importantly, we know that the toddler you tried to make disappear tonight is your own nephew—the sole heir to your brother’s estate."
Arthur didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He simply offered a thin, patronizing smile that made Elena’s blood boil.
"My brother David was a brilliant, unstable man," Arthur said, his tone shifting to one of manufactured tragedy. "His obsession with neural-regeneration clouded his judgment. When the lab accident occurred, he and his wife perished, leaving behind a severely compromised child. I merely stepped in to provide humane, specialized care that no public hospital could ever offer."
"Humane care?" Elena slammed her hand down on the table, making Arthur jump slightly. "Locking a three-year-old child in an abandoned lab and sending thugs to hunt him down in the rain is not medical care, Arthur! It's an execution!"
Before Arthur could formulate his next cold deflection, the metal door swung open violently. Captain Miller rushed in, his face pale and sweating profusely, holding a secured tablet in his trembling hand.
"Mr. Vance, you need to see this," Miller stammered, ignoring Elena entirely as he placed the tablet flat on the table.
On the screen was live satellite footage from the coastal highway wreck. The camera zoomed in on Federal Marshal Thomas Vance kneeling beside the muddy brown puppy, holding up the torn piece of Leo’s shirt.
Arthur’s polished facade cracked instantly. The color drained completely from his face, his fingers curling into tight fists against the wooden grain.
"Where is the boy?" Arthur whispered, his voice losing all its aristocratic calm.
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Miller swallowed hard, casting a terrified glance at Elena before answering. "Federal Marshal Thomas Vance has him. They're heading for the private airstrip right now."
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