Chapter 3 - THE INTERROGATION ROOM — THE MASK SLIPSThe interrogation room at the county precinct smelled of stale coffee, old floor wax, and pure, concentrated desperation.
Parker sat at the stainless-steel table, his handcuffs shackled to the metal loop in the center. The expensive Italian suit he wore now looked rumpled and pathetic, sweat beading on his forehead as Lieutenant Vance dropped a thick manila folder onto the table with a deafening thud.
Clarissa stood behind the two-way mirror in the observation room, watching every twitch, every bead of sweat, every micro-expression on her husband’s face. Beside her stood Dustin, wrapped in a warm blanket, sipping hot cocoa, his eyes fixed on the screen.
Inside the interrogation room, Vance pulled out the powder-blue dinosaur backpack and placed it right in front of Parker.
Parker stared at the backpack. All the color drained from his face. The cocky, arrogant businessman vanished in a single second, replaced by a cornered, shivering animal.
“Recognize this, Parker?” Vance asked smoothly, pulling out the birth certificate of Leo Miller. “Found in the locked shed on your wife’s property. Along with your first wife’s medical records, forged asset transfers, and court filings from six years ago.”
Parker swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. “I… I want my lawyer. You can’t question me without counsel.”
“Dana Whitmore already dropped you like a hot potato,” Vance leaned across the table, his voice dropping an octave into a low, menacing growl. “You’re facing federal wire fraud, interstate extortion, child endangerment, and now… we’re reopening the cold-case investigation into the disappearance of six-year-old Leo Miller.”
Parker’s eyes flared wide. “He didn’t disappear! He went to boarding school! It was an accident! The car—the accident—!”
“Which accident, Parker?” Vance interrupted sharply, slamming his hand on the table. “Because according to the file, Leo’s mother never consented to any boarding school. In fact, right before she was institutionalized, she told police her husband was threatening to institutionalize her permanently if she didn’t sign over her estate. Sound familiar?”
Parker slumped back in his chair, his shoulders caving in. The facade was completely gone. The monster was exposed.
“She wouldn’t listen,” Parker whispered, his voice trembling with venomous self-pity. “She had everything. Money, land, success. And I had nothing. I built her businesses, I managed her life, and she treated me like an employee. So I took what I was owed. And when the boy got in the way… when he started asking questions about where his mother went… I sent him away. To live with my aunt in Canada. He’s fine!”
“What’s his name, Parker?” Vance demanded, leaning in close. “What is the boy’s real name and where is he right now?”
Parker clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head. “I’ll never tell you. That’s my only leverage.”
Behind the two-way mirror, Clarissa watched the monitor. Her hands curled into tight fists. She didn't wait for Vance to break him. She turned on her heel, pushed open the observation room door, and marched straight down the hallway toward the interrogation room.
Lieutenant Vance looked up as the heavy door swung open. “Mrs. Carter, you shouldn't be in here—”
“Step aside, Lieutenant,” Clarissa said, her voice deadpan, cold, and lethal.
Vance hesitated, then slowly stood up and backed away, sensing the sheer, unstoppable force of a mother whose child had been hunted.
Clarissa walked around the table and stopped directly in front of Parker.
Parker looked up, a pathetic, desperate smirk creeping onto his lips. “Clarissa, baby… please. We can fix this. We’ve been married four years. We built a life together. You love me.”
Clarissa stared at him as if he were a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
“You didn’t just try to steal my house, Parker,” Clarissa said softly, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You tried to break my son’s spirit. You starved him. You made him feel like an outcast in his own home. You used him as a pawn in a sadistic game to ruin my sanity.”
“I did it for us,” Parker pleaded, his voice breaking. “My business was failing! I needed that liquidity—”
Smack!
The sharp crack of Clarissa’s open palm colliding with Parker’s cheek echoed off the concrete walls. Parker’s head snapped to the side, a red welt instantly blooming across his face.
“That is for my son,” Clarissa said, her breathing heavy.
Parker slowly turned his head back, glaring at her with pure, unadulterated hatred. “You think you’ve won? My mother and sister are still out there. They know where your bank accounts are. They know your social security numbers. They will bleed you dry!”
Clarissa leaned down, bringing her face inches from his, her eyes burning with pure ice.
“Alana and Ellie were arrested twenty minutes ago trying to board a flight to Mexico using your emergency offshore credit cards,” Clarissa whispered. “Your mother is currently sitting in holding cell B, crying because she has to share a toilet with women who actually commit real crimes. Your family is finished, Parker. And you are going away for the rest of your natural life.”
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Parker let out a guttural scream of pure rage, lunging forward, but the handcuffs locked him tight to the bolted table, slamming him back down into his chair.
As guards rushed in to pin him down, Clarissa turned her back on him forever, walking out of the interrogation room without looking back.
