Chapter 4 - The Interrogation Room
Three days later, I sat behind the one-way mirror of the Dallas Police Department’s central interrogation suite.
On the other side of the glass sat Eleanor Carter.
She no longer looked like the untouchable matriarch of Oak Cliff society. Her silver hair was unstyled, her designer suit replaced by a standard orange jumpsuit, and her face was carved with deep, bitter lines of absolute fury.
Detective Vance sat across from her at the metal table, sliding a thick stack of forensic reports and historical property deeds in front of her.
“The forensic audit of the underground vault is complete, Mrs. Carter,” Vance said evenly. “We found the financial records linking your dummy accounts to the disappearance of three toddlers over the last three decades, including the falsified death certificate of your firstborn son, Julian, who was sold to an adoption syndicate in 1998.”
Eleanor didn't flinch. She leaned back slowly, her lips curling into a cold, contemptuous smile.
“You have paper trails and old bones,” Eleanor said, her voice dripping with venom. “None of it will ever stick in a federal court. I have high-court judges on retainer, prosecutors who owe their careers to my foundation, and a legal team that will pick your circumstantial evidence apart before the end of the week.”
“You forget one thing, Eleanor,” a voice said from the doorway.
The heavy metal door clicked open, and I stepped out of the observation booth into the interrogation room.
Eleanor’s arrogant smile vanished instantly. Her eyes widened, darting toward me with a mixture of shock and blind rage as I walked slowly to the table, standing directly across from her.
“Emily,” she hissed, slamming her cuffed hands onto the metal table. “You ungrateful, pathetic little fool! You’re destroying your own family name over a brat who couldn't even follow simple rules!”
“You stopped being my family the moment you drew blood from an innocent child,” I said calmly, my voice steady and cold as ice. “And as for the family name? There won't be a single stone left standing by the time I’m done with you.”
“You think you’re so smart, don't you?” Eleanor laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed off the concrete walls. “You think because you managed to escape to Denver you’re better than us? You’re a Sterling-Carter by blood! Cruelty is in our DNA! You’ll never wash it off!”
“I don't need to wash it off,” I replied, leaning down so my face was inches from hers. “I’m going to bury it.”
I turned to Detective Vance. “Charge her with capital murder, child trafficking, and racketeering under the RICO Act. Make sure bail is denied permanently.”
May you like
“With pleasure, Mrs. Carter,” Vance said.
As the guards grabbed Eleanor’s shoulders and hauled her screaming and thrashing back toward her holding cell, I didn't feel pity. I didn't even feel satisfaction. I felt the cold, clear resolve of a mother who had reclaimed her power.
