Chapter 3 - The Interrogation Room
The interrogation room at the downtown precinct smelled of stale coffee, industrial floor wax, and decades of despair. A single metallic table sat bolted to the center of the linoleum floor, illuminated by an overhead fluorescent bulb that hummed with a low, irritating frequency.
I sat on one side of the table, my hands folded neatly in my lap, trying to regulate my breathing. Across from me sat Detective Raymond, a veteran homicide investigator with tired eyes, graying temples, and a face carved from granite. He slid a thick manila folder across the table and flipped it open, revealing crime scene photographs taken under the harsh white lights of a Mexican luxury hotel suite.
"Let’s start from the top, Mrs. Vance," Detective Raymond said, his voice gravelly and devoid of emotion. "Your husband, David Vance, and Ms. Sarah Jenkins checked into a penthouse suite at the Grand Oasis Resort yesterday afternoon. At approximately 4:00 a.m. local time, hotel security was called to their room following reports of a severe physical disturbance."
I stared down at the table, my voice trembling slightly. "I didn't know they were in Cancun together until late last night. He sent me a text message saying they ran away and weren't coming back."
"We recovered that text message from David's phone," Raymond replied, tapping a pen against the metal table. "Along with a secondary text message sent from David’s device to Sarah’s phone at 5:15 a.m., threatening her life over a dispute regarding hidden financial accounts."
My eyes snapped up to meet his. "Hidden accounts? What are you talking about?"
Detective Raymond leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Our preliminary financial audit of David and Sarah shows that over the past three years, they weren't just having an affair. They were running an extensive corporate embezzlement scheme through a shell company registered under Sarah’s maiden name, funneling nearly two million dollars out of the logistics firm where David worked."
The room seemed to shrink. Two million dollars. No wonder David had been so desperate to leave the country. He hadn't just run off with my best friend; he had fled a collapsing criminal enterprise, using Sarah as his primary accomplice.
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"Mrs. Vance," Detective Raymond continued, his gaze narrowing into a sharp, piercing stare. "According to the Mexican federal police and hotel surveillance footage, after the argument in the penthouse suite, a masked individual entered David and Sarah’s room using an encoded master key card at 5:45 a.m. Both David and Sarah were found deceased from massive blunt force trauma shortly thereafter. And according to the electronic hotel logs, the master key card used to access their room at the time of the murders was registered to a local residential property manager... registered under your name."
The blood drained entirely from my face. I sat frozen in my chair, the trap snapping shut around me with terrifying, inescapable force.
