Chapter 14 - The Voices of Monsters
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The detective didn't play the audio inside the closed room. Whether by calculated design or standard procedure, he walked back out into the hallway where Nicholas, Gregory, and Patricia were still standing with their arms crossed in indignant defiance.
I followed him out, standing by the door frame, watching the Fergusons closely.
The detective unsealed the evidence bag, pulled out the small recorder, and pressed the play button. He turned the volume all the way up.
No one spoke. The hallway was dead silent.
A sharp burst of static hissed from the tiny speaker, followed by the unmistakable sound of a heavy door slamming shut. Then, a voice echoed through the corridor. It was Nicholas’s voice.
"You think anyone is going to believe you over my family?" the recorded Nicholas sneered. "You're nothing without me, Abigail. You're a charity case. If you try to walk out that door, I will break your legs."
Nicholas’s face drained of all color. He looked like he had just been struck by lightning. He stumbled backward, his mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out.
The recording clicked, jumping to a different day. The next voice belonged to Gregory.
"You leave this house," Gregory's recorded voice laughed cruelly, "and we’ll make sure every newspaper in this city knows exactly what we want them to know. We will ruin you, Abigail. You'll never work again."
Gregory stared at the floor, his arrogant smirk entirely wiped from his face. He looked physically sick.
Then came the final clip. The audio was crystal clear. It was Patricia. Her voice was cold, controlled, and terrifyingly calm.
"Stay exactly where you are, Abigail," the matriarch commanded on the tape. "This family has spent four generations building and protecting its name. Do not force us to protect it from a little gold-digging tramp like you. You will stay in this room until you learn how to behave."
The audio clicked off. The heavy, oppressive silence returned to the hallway.
Patricia looked at Nicholas. Nicholas looked at Gregory. None of them looked at the police officers. And suddenly, their massive wealth, their grand estate, and their political connections seemed incredibly small.
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Because money could buy the most expensive defense lawyers in the country. It could buy aggressive public relations teams to spin narratives. It could even buy influence with local judges.
But it could not erase hard, digital evidence that already existed. The monsters had been caught in the light, and there was nowhere left to hide.
