Chapter 2 - The Interrogation in the Hallway
The flashing red and blue lights of the cruiser painted erratic geometric patterns across our living room ceiling. Two county sheriff deputies stood in our entryway, their faces grim and professional. One of them, a veteran officer named Ramos, kept his hand resting casually near his duty belt while his partner, Officer Chen, held a heavy-duty tactical flashlight.
“Dispatch received a silent priority-one panic signal originating from this residence, coupled with a report of a suspected explosive device,” Officer Ramos said, his eyes scanning Mark, Tyler, and me. “Who made the call?”
“I did,” I stepped forward, handing Officer Chen my encrypted tablet which displayed the live feed from the bedroom camera, along with the automated audio logs. “My name is Rebecca Vance. My husband, Mark Vance, and my stepson, Tyler Vance, are also here. There is a fake device on the nightstand, and an unknown device currently active under my six-year-old daughter’s bed.”
Mark looked like he wanted to shrink into the floorboards. “Officer, listen, there’s been a massive misunderstanding. It was a joke—a stupid teenage prank. My son built a prop—”
“A prop?” Officer Ramos interrupted, his tone instantly sharpening. He stepped past Mark, signaling Chen to follow him up the stairs. “Sir, do you have any idea how many calls we respond to where parents write off active threats as ‘pranks’ until it’s too late? Show me.”
They rushed up the stairs, and Mark and Tyler followed sheepishly like scolded children. I stayed downstairs for a moment to ensure Lily was still asleep, cocooned in safety, before following them back to the second-floor hallway.
Inside Lily’s bedroom, the atmosphere was suffocating. Officer Chen knelt beside the bed, shining his tactical light under the frame. Propped against the wallboard near the baseboard heater was a second device—not a shoebox, but a heavy, cylindrical metal canister wrapped in black electrical tape, featuring a digital LED counter glowing a steady, rhythmic green, clicking down from 00:41:12.
“That… that’s not mine,” Tyler whispered, his voice trembling as he peeked around the doorframe. He looked genuinely horrified now, the reality of what he had unleashed crashing down on him. “I swear on my mom’s grave, I only made the one on the desk!”
Officer Ramos stood up, his face carved from stone. He turned his severe gaze toward Mark and Tyler. “Step out of the room. Both of you. Hands where I can see them.”
“Officer, surely you don't think—” Mark began, puffing out his chest with defensive indignance.
“I don't think anything yet, Mr. Vance. I know facts,” Ramos cut him off coldly. “Fact number one: there is an unverified electronic device emitting a countdown signal in a minor child’s bedroom. Fact number two: your son admits to planting a replica device in the exact same room tonight, creating an environment where an actual threat could be masked or ignored. And fact number three: you enabled it.”
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Mark swallowed hard, his face turning pale. He looked at me, desperate for me to intervene, to play the sweet, compliant stepmother I had tried so hard to be for the past two years. But my face remained a blank wall of ice.
“Get the bomb squad on the line, Chen,” Ramos ordered, pulling out his radio. “And get Child Protective Services on standby. This house is a crime scene.”
