Chapter 5 - The Interrogation and the Crack
Back at the county precinct, the fluorescent lights of the interrogation room hummed a monotonous tune. Richard sat across the metal table, smug and composed, flanked by a local public defender who looked equally unimpressed by our initial evidence.
“My client denies all allegations,” the lawyer stated firmly. “There is no direct physical evidence linking Mr. Pierce to the tampering of the cosmetic product. We request his immediate release on bail.”
Officer Miller slammed a file folder onto the table. “We found industrial drain cleaner in his personal cabin, identical to the chemical signature found on the victim's face, along with receipts showing he purchased both items at a local hardware store two days ago.”
“Circumstantial,” the lawyer countered smoothly. “Mr. Pierce owns a cabin; maintenance chemicals are standard. Purchasing skincare products during the holidays is hardly a crime.”
Outside the glass partition, I watched Daniel pace the waiting area, his face a mask of exhaustion and heartbreak. He had signed statements, talked to detectives, and officially disowned his father, but the legal reality was terrifying: if Richard’s high-priced legal team spun a web of reasonable doubt, he might walk free.
Just as the magistrate was leaning toward granting bail due to technicalities, the door to the observation room burst open. A tech expert from the state forensics lab rushed in, holding a sealed evidence envelope and a printed report.
“Miller,” the tech panted, catching his breath. “We ran secondary diagnostics on the inner foil seal of the 'Snow Angel' jar using microscopic laser fluorescence. The person who peeled that seal back to inject the chemical left a microscopic skin flake on the adhesive underside.”
Miller snatched the report. “DNA match?”
“100% match to Richard Pierce’s national database profile,” the tech grinned triumphantly. “He didn't just buy the cream and hand it over. His skin cells were trapped under the factory seal when he resealed it with a heat gun.”
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Inside the interrogation room, the color instantly drained from Richard’s face. His smug, untouchable facade shattered in a single second. The public defender blinked, looked at his client, and slowly closed his briefcase.
“Take him down,” Miller said, standing up and opening the door.
