Chapter 5 - THE INTERROGATION TABLEThe federal holding facility downtown was cold, sterile, and smelled faintly of industrial disinfectant—a smell I knew intimately from a decade of field work. But today, I wasn't the investigator standing behind the two-way mirror.
Well, technically, I was consulting.
I sat in the observation room alongside Special Agent Thomas Vance (no relation, just a senior federal investigator I’d worked joint task forces with). Through the reinforced glass, Jackson sat slumped at a metal interrogation table, wearing an orange jumpsuit that swallowed his frame. His eyes were sunken, dark circles bruised beneath them. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours.
"He's ready to crack," Thomas observed, sipping a styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee. "He’s been rambling about his parents for the last hour. Wants a deal. Full immunity in exchange for testifying against Richard and Genesis."
"Don't give him immunity," I said quietly, leaning forward with my elbows on the console. "Give him a reduced sentence, conditional on a guilty plea for corporate fraud and domestic violence enhancement. But make sure he serves every single day of it."
"You got it, Maya," Thomas nodded. He clicked his radio headset. "Agent Miller, bring in the primary case file. Time to close the loop."
Through the speakers, we heard the heavy metal door of the interrogation room click open. Agent Miller sat down opposite Jackson, sliding a thick manila folder across the table.
"Jackson Sterling, you’re being charged with wire fraud, embezzlement, tax evasion, and domestic assault," Miller recited flatly. "Before we proceed, is there anything you'd like to say?"
Jackson buried his face in his cuffed hands. His shoulders shook. "I want to talk to my wife. Please... let me talk to Maya."
Miller looked up at the observation glass, meeting my eyes through the one-way mirror. He gave me a subtle nod, asking if I wanted to walk in.
I stood up, adjusted my blazer, and pushed open the door to the interrogation room.
The heavy steel door swung open, and Jackson’s head snapped up. When he saw me standing there in my immaculate CID uniform, pristine and untouched by the chaos he had unleashed, his breath hitched.
"Maya..." he whispered, his voice a pathetic rasp. "Please. I’m sorry. I was stupid. I listened to my parents. I love you."
I pulled out the metal chair opposite him, sitting down slowly. I folded my hands on the table, looking at the man who had tried to break me over a dinner table.
"Jackson," I said softly, my voice devoid of anger, echoing with absolute cold authority. "When you threw that plate, you thought you were asserting dominance. You thought intimidation was power."
He swallowed hard, trembling. "I was wrong. I know I was wrong."
"You weren't just wrong," I leaned forward, locking my eyes onto his terrified gaze. "You completely miscalculated your opponent. You thought marriage made me vulnerable. You forgot that I hunt predators for a living."
"Are you... are you going to destroy me?" he whispered.
May you like
"No, Jackson," I replied, standing up and buttoning my jacket. "You did that all by yourself. I’m just here to make sure the sentence is executed properly."
I turned on my heel and walked out, leaving him alone in the cold silence of his own making.
