Chapter 3 - The Interrogation
Back at the precinct interrogation room by 3:00 AM, the atmosphere was thick with tension.
Ryan sat at the metal table, still wearing his handcuffs, smirking as I walked in and dropped Daniel’s journal and the open lockbox onto the surface in front of him.
I pulled out the metal chair, sat down across from him, and leaned forward until our faces were inches apart. The rage burning in my chest was white-hot, but my voice remained dangerously quiet.
“Recognize this?” I asked, tapping the cover of Daniel’s journal.
Ryan’s smirk flickered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a hard, defensive glare. “I don't know what garbage you fished out of my basement. A kid’s toys? Some old junk?”
“It’s my brother’s journal, Ryan,” I said softly. “The brother you and your friends kidnapped nine years ago. The brother you thought you silenced permanently.”
Ryan let out a sharp, cynical laugh. “You’ve lost your mind, cop. You’ve got no proof of—"
“Pier 42,” I interrupted, staring straight into his eyes. “And the old boathouse at Miller’s Cove. We already have the coordinates. We know about the shipping rings, we know about the ledger, and federal marshals were dispatched to the docks twenty minutes ago.”
The color drained from Ryan’s face so fast it looked like someone had turned off a light switch. The arrogant swagger vanished, replaced by the panicked calculations of a cornered rat.
“You’re bluffing,” Ryan whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “You don't know where he is.”
“We know enough to put you away for the rest of your natural life,” Marcus said, stepping into the room and slapping a federal arrest warrant onto the table next to the journal. “Cooperate right now and tell us where Daniel is being held, or you spend the next thirty years sharing a cell with the very people you sold out.”
Ryan looked from Marcus to me, his chest heaving. The tough-guy facade was completely gone.
“I... I didn't kill him,” Ryan stammered, holding up his cuffed hands defensively. “It wasn't my idea! It was boss Henderson! He said Daniel knew too much about the smuggling operations! We locked him up in the old quarry warehouse off Route 9—he’s alive, I swear to God he’s alive!”
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I didn't wait to hear another word. I stood up so fast my chair crashed backward onto the linoleum floor.
“Marcus, assemble the tactical team. Route 9 Quarry Warehouse. Now.”
