Chapter 10 - The Interrogation Room
The interrogation room at the federal holding facility was cold, windowless, and smelled faintly of cheap coffee and disinfectant. Under the harsh glare of a single overhead fluorescent fixture, Marcus Vance sat slumped in a steel chair, his federal-issue cuffs locked securely to the bolt-mounted table.
The door clicked open, and Daniel stepped into the room, holding a thick manila folder under his arm. He didn't sit down immediately; instead, he leaned against the concrete wall, staring down at the disgraced detective who had once been his closest colleague.
"You look tired, Marcus," Daniel said quietly, his voice devoid of anger, carrying only a profound, heavy disappointment.
Marcus lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot and defiant. "Go to hell, Dan. If you're here to gloat, save your breath. I want my lawyer."
"Your lawyer isn't going to save you, Marcus. Federal prosecutors just finished reviewing the financial records seized from Lorraine's safety deposit box and the offshore shell company accounts. You're looking at twenty counts of wire fraud, conspiracy to commit kidnapping, and official corruption. That's a minimum of thirty years behind bars. No parole."
Marcus swallowed hard, his bravado finally cracking. He dropped his gaze to the stainless steel table. "You don't understand how deep it goes, Dan. Lorraine... she didn't just run a local real estate scam. She was laundering money for a Nashville-based syndicate connected to international smuggling. When I got buried in gambling debts two years ago, she bailed me out. Once you take dirty money, you don't get to walk away. You belong to them."
"We all make choices, Marcus," Daniel said flatly, tossing the manila folder onto the table in front of him. "You chose to protect a criminal syndicate over your badge. You chose to terrorize an innocent girl."
Marcus looked up, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "You think you won, Dan? You think arresting me and Lorraine stops the bleeding? Her older son—Thomas—the one everyone thought died in West Virginia thirty years ago? He's not dead. And he's coming back for what's his."
Daniel's eyes narrowed sharply. "Thomas Cole? What are you talking about?"
Before Marcus could answer, the heavy steel door banged open, and an agent rushed in, breathless. "Sergeant Mercer! You need to look at this right now. We just intercepted an emergency transmission from the county hospital where Claire was discharged."
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Daniel's heart stopped. "What happened at the hospital?"
"Claire... she's gone," the agent gasped. "A man posing as a federal transport officer walked into her room five minutes ago, sedated her private nurse, and carried her out through the loading dock."
