Chapter 4 - The Interrogation
At 8:30 AM the next morning, Detective Vance called Mark and me into the precinct. Because Daniel’s watch had been recovered and the gray envelope was listed as evidence stolen during a residential burglary, I was granted permission to observe Nicole’s formal interrogation through the two-way glass.
My parents were sitting in the lobby when we walked in. My mother looked disheveled, her eyes puffy, holding a designer handbag that Nicole had likely bought her with stolen money.
When my mother saw me, she practically lunged off her chair. “Sarah! You tell them it was an accident! Tell them you gave her permission to hold the watch!”
“I will do no such thing, Mom,” I said, stopping three feet away from her. “Nicole broke into my house, smashed Ava’s jar, took forty thousand dollars worth of Daniel’s property, and involved us with criminals.”
“She made a mistake!” my father bellowed, stepping up beside my mother. “Families forgive mistakes!”
“Stealing from a seven-year-old child isn't a mistake,” I said, my voice dead calm. “It’s a choice. And so is going to prison.”
I turned my back on them and walked into the observation room with Mark and Detective Vance.
Through the glass, Nicole sat in a cold stainless-steel chair. Her flashy clothes were rumpled, her makeup was smeared, and her hands were cuffed to the table ring. Her usual arrogant demeanor was completely gone, replaced by a frantic, darting gaze.
Detective Vance walked in, carrying a heavy manila folder. He slammed it down on the table, making Nicole jump.
“Let’s talk about the gray envelope, Nicole,” Vance said, taking his seat. “And let's talk about Victor Thorne.”
At the mention of that name, Nicole’s face turned paper-white.
“I... I don't know who that is,” she stuttered, her voice shaking violently. “I just took the watch! I needed money to pay my rent!”
“Don't lie to me,” Vance snapped. “We pulled the cell tower logs from your phone. You made four calls to Victor Thorne’s front business yesterday before you ever set foot in Sarah’s house. You didn't smash your niece’s piggy bank for rent money, Nicole. You did it to cover your tracks while you stole state evidence for a career criminal.”
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Nicole buried her face in her cuffed hands and began to sob hysterically. “He said he’d pay off my credit cards! He said he just wanted Daniel’s old notes! He told me nobody would care about a broken piggy bank!”
In the observation room, I gripped the edge of the counter until my knuckles turned white. She had sold out her own brother’s legacy and her niece’s safety for credit card debt.
