Chapter 3 - THE CONFESSION UNDER LIGHTS
The interrogation room at the Philadelphia Federal Building was cold, sterile, and lit by harsh fluorescent bulbs overhead.
Rachel sat at the metal table, her wrists handcuffed to an iron ring embedded in the center of the wood. Her high-priced defense attorney sat beside her, looking pale and nervous as he reviewed the mountains of evidence piled on the table.
Across from them sat Detective Miller and Mark, who was now wearing his official federal credentials pinned to his dark suit.
"We have the high-definition video of you lacing the drink, Rachel," Detective Miller said, slapping a stack of printed video stills onto the table. "We have the glass dropper bottle recovered from your handbag with your fingerprints all over it. And we have the digital paper trail showing your payments to a black-market chemical vendor."
Rachel didn't look at the photos. She glared at Mark with venomous hatred.
"You ruined everything, Mark," she sneered. "You think you're so smart with your federal badges and your secret labs. You took Kelsey away from our family!"
"Kelsey left your family's toxic orbit because you treated her like an employee your entire life, Rachel," Mark said coldly. "Your grandfather left the trust fund to Emma because he knew you were unstable and greedy. He saw right through you."
"My lawyer says I can plead diminished capacity!" Rachel barked, laughing manic ly. "I was under extreme stress! I was depressed! I'll do three years in a comfortable psychiatric facility and walk out with my share of the company!"
Mark leaned forward over the table, resting his elbows on the cold surface, a dark, terrifying smile touching his lips.
"Your lawyer didn't read the secondary indictment, did he?" Mark asked smoothly.
Rachel’s attorney frowned, quickly grabbing a blue folder from the stack. "What secondary indictment?"
"Because I am an active officer of the Defense Threat Reduction Agency," Mark explained, "the compound you synthesized and brought into my home falls under the Chemical Weapons Anti-Terrorism Act of 2005."
The attorney’s face went completely red as he scanned the top page of the blue folder. "Wait... this is a federal terrorism charge?!"
"Targeting a federal agent's family with a Class 2 metabolic toxin is legally classified as an act of domestic bio-terrorism," Mark stated, his voice ringing with absolute, unyielding finality. "There is no bail. There is no psychiatric plea bargain. You are not going to a state hospital, Rachel."
Rachel’s smug expression slowly disintegrated. "What... what are you talking about?"
"You are going to ADX Florence Supermax in Colorado," Mark informed her, stepping back from the table. "You will spend twenty-three hours a day in a concrete cell with no human contact, no windows, and no visitor privileges for the next thirty years of your life."
Rachel slammed her cuffed hands against the table, the metal links rattling violently. "You can't do this to me! I'm a Vance! I have rights! Dad! Call Dad!"
"Your father handed the police the financial ledgers showing you embezzled two million dollars from his company to pay off your gambling debts in Atlantic City," Detective Miller added, pulling out a set of legal documents. "He disowned you an hour ago."
Rachel collapsed back into her chair, her body shaking as the true reality of her situation smashed through her delusions. She was no longer a wealthy socialite competing with her sister. She was a convicted federal terrorist whose life was effectively over.
May you like
Mark turned toward the door, not wasting another second looking at the woman who had tried to murder his child.
"Enjoy the silence, Rachel," Mark whispered as he walked out into the corridor.
