Chapter 16
The police precinct was a chaotic blur of ringing phones, shouting officers, and glaring fluorescent lights. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, sterile wealth of the mansion.
Emily, Evelyn, and Daniel sat in a small observation room behind a two-way mirror. Detective Vance stood beside them, his arms crossed, watching the interrogation room on the other side of the glass.
Margaret sat at the metal table. She looked utterly out of place. Her designer suit was immaculate, her posture perfectly rigid, but the facade was beginning to crack. The sheer arrogance that had sustained her for twenty years was slowly being replaced by cornered desperation.
Her high-priced defense attorney, a slick man named Harrison, leaned over the table, whispering furiously in her ear.
“She’s refusing to speak,” Vance said, glancing at Emily. “She invoked her right to counsel the second we put her in the room. Without hard evidence of the physical altercation, a good lawyer will argue the photograph only proves they were in the room, not that they committed a crime.”
Emily pulled her phone from her pocket and placed it on the console in front of the detective.
“Play the most recent audio file,” Emily said calmly.
Vance frowned, tapping the screen. Daniel’s broken, tear-filled voice filled the small observation room, recounting the horrific details of Eleanor’s final moments. The turned-off oxygen tank. The physical assault by Richard. Margaret drugging her own son to force compliance.
Vance’s expression hardened. He looked at Daniel, who was staring at the floor, unable to watch his mother through the glass.
“You’re willing to testify to this under oath, son?” Vance asked gently.
“Yes,” Daniel whispered. “Every word.”
“That changes everything,” Vance said, grabbing the phone and heading for the door. “I’m taking this to the District Attorney right now. We’re upgrading the hold. She isn't leaving this building.”
As the detective left, Emily watched Margaret through the glass. The older woman was glaring at the mirror, as if she could sense them watching her.
“She knows it’s over,” Evelyn said softly, stepping up beside Emily.
“No,” Emily corrected, her eyes locked on Margaret. “She thinks she still has one card left to play. Look at her lawyer.”
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Harrison was packing his briefcase rapidly, looking distinctly panicked. Margaret slammed her hand on the metal table, commanding his attention, barking a silent order through the soundproof glass.
“She’s telling him to move the money,” Emily realized. “Before the foundation freeze is fully processed through the international banks.”
