Chapter 3 - The Interrogation Room
The precinct interrogation room smelled like stale floor wax and cheap disinfectant. I sat on the hard metal chair in the observation hallway next to the double-way mirror, watching Megan through the glass. Her hair was slightly disheveled, the designer sweater she wore for Mom’s birthday dinner now looking out of place under the buzzing fluorescent lights.
Across from her sat Detective Vance—no relation—a weathered detective with tired eyes and a thick black notebook.
Inside the room, Megan was slamming her palms against the stainless-steel table.
“I want a lawyer!” her voice bled faintly through the wall speaker. “This is insane! I forgot her! People forget things! It’s human error!”
“Error is leaving a carton of milk on the top of your car and driving off,” Detective Vance replied evenly, not looking up from his notepad. “Leaving a five-year-old child unattended in a commercial zone for eighty-four minutes while making intentional turns away from her, pausing at the exit, and smiling at her departure is not an error, Ms. Vance. That’s child abandonment.”
“She was disobedient!” Megan shrieked, tears of pure rage springing to her eyes. “She wouldn't stop crying about wanting to call Clara! She was throwing a tantrum in the frozen aisle! I wanted to teach her a lesson! Just a five-minute lesson so she’d learn some respect!”
I gripped the edge of the wooden table outside. A lesson. She had left my baby alone in a crowded market for an hour and twenty minutes to “teach her respect.”
“A lesson,” Detective Vance repeated, his voice dropping into a dangerous quiet. He slid a printed 8x10 still-frame across the table—the exact frame where Megan was staring directly at Lily sitting on the bench. “Is this the lesson, Megan? Because looking at the timestamp, you drove three miles home, sat in your car for ten minutes texting, and walked inside laughing. Did you laugh while teaching her respect?”
Megan went silent. She slumped back into her chair, her jaw working furiously as she realized the trap she had built for herself was completely airtight.
My phone buzzed in my lap. It was a text from Mom: Please, Clara. Drop the charges. She's your sister. Think of what this will do to our family name. I'm begging you.
I stared at the screen for a long moment. Then, with deliberate slowness, I tapped out a reply: You and Megan spent years teaching me that actions have consequences. Today, she learns hers. I blocked the number.
Inside the room, Detective Vance stood up, closing his notebook with a sharp snap. “You’re being booked on felony child endangerment, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and reckless endangerment of a child. You’ll see a judge in the morning.”
As the two uniformed officers hauled Megan out of her seat, her eyes flicked toward the observation mirror. She knew I was standing right there. Her lips curled into a snarl, but for the first time all evening, there was real terror in her eyes.
Officer Ruiz opened the hallway door and walked out, wiping a hand across his brow. “She’s going downtown, Clara. Child Services has already been notified to conduct a standard follow-up interview with Lily, but given the video evidence, this is as cut-and-dry as it gets.”
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“Thank you, Officer,” I said, standing up and shaking his hand. My legs felt hollow, but my mind was sharper than it had ever been. “What happens next?”
“Next,” Ruiz said grimly, “is the arraignment. And trust me, the district attorney is not going to look kindly on this.”
