Chapter 9 - Claire’s Breaking Point
In an adjacent interrogation room at the precinct, Claire Vance was demonstrating the sheer, terrifying power of self-preservation. Unlike Richard, who was stubbornly clinging to his arrogance, Claire had instantly recognized that the ship was sinking. She had spent the last two hours weeping theatrically, demanding a Diet Coke, and screaming for her personal attorney.
When Detective Thorne finally entered her room, dropping a thick stack of printed financial ledgers onto the metal table, Claire’s weeping abruptly stopped.
"I want immunity," Claire stated, her voice suddenly crisp, cold, and entirely devoid of emotion.
Thorne raised an eyebrow, pulling out the chair and sitting down. "Immunity is a massive request for a woman who helped padlock her daughter inside a burning building, Claire. The District Attorney isn't feeling particularly generous today."
"I didn't lock the door," Claire countered instantly, leaning forward over the table, her eyes wide with desperate calculation. "I swear to you, Elias, I didn't lock it. Richard did. I just stood in the hallway and watched. I was terrified. He told me that if I interfered, the Vanguard syndicate would murder both of us anyway."
"So you just stood by and listened to your daughter scream for her life?" Thorne asked, his voice laced with pure disgust.
Claire flinched, but quickly recovered her composure. "You don't understand the people Richard got involved with! Vanguard isn't just a group of loan sharks. They are ghosts. They sent a man to our house last week. A man with a horrible burn scar across his neck. He sat in our living room, drank our expensive scotch, and told Richard that if the eight million wasn't paid by Friday, he would skin Richard alive and mail the pieces to me."
Thorne pulled out a pen, finally taking notes. "The man with the scar. Did Richard hire him to start the fire?"
"Yes," Claire whispered, looking around the room as if the man might materialize from the shadows. "His name is Silas. He’s a professional cleaner for the syndicate. Richard paid him a hundred thousand dollars in advance to make the fire look like a tragic electrical accident. Silas guaranteed the smoke would put Evie to sleep long before the flames ever reached her bedroom."
"How remarkably humane of him," Thorne muttered sarcastically, closing his notebook. "You realize admitting you were present and aware of a murder-for-hire plot still makes you an accessory to attempted homicide, right?"
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"But I’m cooperating!" Claire shrieked, panic flooding back into her voice. "I gave you the arsonist! I gave you Richard! You have to protect me!"
"I'll pass your profound apologies along to the DA," Thorne said, standing up and walking toward the heavy metal door. "But I highly recommend you get comfortable in that jumpsuit, Claire. You’re going to be wearing orange for a very long time."
