Chapter 5 - The Interrogation and Family Interference
I let out a long, shuddering breath, staring at the camera where Reid’s face now filled the frame. Even under fluorescent tactical lighting and the stress of a midnight security breach, he looked impossibly composed.
“I am so, so sorry, Reid,” I said quickly into my laptop microphone. “I swear to you, I had no idea they were coming. They stole the management emergency code from the building directory.”
On the other end of the line, Reid’s expression remained unreadable, though a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was processing the utter absurdity of the situation.
“Copy that, Marissa,” Reid replied evenly, turning his attention back to Paige, who was staring at him with her mouth hanging open.
“Wait,” Paige stammered, looking between Reid and the phone in his hand. “Who is this? Who are you talking to? You sold the apartment? Marissa, you sold your place? To him?”
Reid slipped the phone into his tactical vest pocket, keeping the audio channel open so I could hear everything. He stepped closer to Paige, his presence overwhelming the small entryway.
“My name is Deputy U.S. Marshal Reid Langford,” Reid said, his voice cold enough to freeze water. “And as of three weeks ago, I am the sole legal owner of this property. Your sister doesn't live here anymore. Furthermore, the room you just attempted to break into is a classified federal workspace containing secure government intelligence.”
Color drained completely from Paige’s face. She looked like she had just been struck by lightning.
“Federal... federal workspace?” she whispered, trembling. “No. No, Mom said... Mom said Marissa just kept her bonus cash in there! Mom said we were just taking what she owed us!”
Before Reid could respond, Paige’s dropped phone—still on speakerphone with my parents back in Virginia—crackled to life.
My mother’s voice shrieked from the speaker on the coffee table: “Paige! Who is that man? Why are there police in the apartment? Arrest him! Arrest him right now, he’s trespassing on our daughter’s property!”
Reid walked slowly over to the coffee table, looked down at the glowing phone screen displaying my mother’s caller ID, and pressed the speaker button.
“Mrs. Keane,” Reid said smoothly, his voice projecting across the living room. “This is Deputy U.S. Marshal Reid Langford. I should inform you that your daughter is currently under arrest for felony breaking and entering, trespassing in a federal facility, and attempted tampering with government security infrastructure.”
A dead, breathless silence hung over the line from Virginia.
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Then, my father’s voice erupted, sputtering with outrage. “Listen to me, you badge-toting thug! You can't arrest my daughter! We have a lease! We have building authorization! Marissa belongs to this family, and everything she has belongs to us!”
Reid let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “Mr. Keane, you don't have a lease. You have a forged document. And as for your daughter... she’s going away for a very long time.”
