Chapter 3: The Interrogation Room
Chapter 3: The Interrogation Room
In the cold, windowless interrogation room of the county precinct, Ryan sat with a bruised ego and a fabricated story. He tried to turn on the charm for the lead detective, a seasoned veteran named Miller.
"Look, my wife has severe prenatal depression," Ryan lied smoothly. "She’s clumsy. She falls out of bed. I’ve been doing everything I can to keep her safe."
Detective Miller didn’t write a single word down. He simply opened a manila folder and slid a stack of eight-by-ten glossies across the metal table. They were the photos taken at the hospital just hours prior. The handprints. The defensive wounds.
May you like
"Gravity doesn't leave finger marks on a woman's throat, son," Miller said flatly.
Ryan’s smug expression dissolved. He demanded a lawyer, realizing too late that his mother wasn't there to bail him out, and the walls of his carefully constructed reality were caving in.
