Chapter 4 - The Interrogation Room
The interrogation room was exactly like the ones on television. Cold. Windowless. Smelling of old coffee and bleach.
I sat at the metal table, my hands folded, still staring at the dried blood on my cuffs.
Detective Miller sat across from me, dropping a thick manila folder onto the table.
“Let’s go through this one more time, Ethan,” Miller said, leaning back in his chair. “You claim you were in Denver for the last four days on business.”
“You can check my flights. Check my hotel receipts. Check the company logs!” I pleaded, tears of frustration streaming down my face. “I wasn't there! I didn't do this to her!”
“I know you were in Denver,” Miller said flatly. “We already verified your alibi. Which leaves us with a very disturbing problem.”
He opened the folder and slid three photographs across the table.
I gasped, looking away, but I couldn't unsee them. They were pictures taken in the ER. Hannah’s wrists were purple and black, the skin broken and rubbed raw in perfect, tight circles.
“Your wife was tied to a bedpost or a chair for at least three days,” Miller said, his voice thick with disgust. “She was starved. She was deprived of her prescribed antibiotics, which caused the sepsis. Someone systematically tortured her while a newborn baby lay in the same room.”
“My mother,” I choked out, the reality finally shattering my mind. “My mother and my sister were staying there.”
Miller raised an eyebrow. “Patricia Parker and Courtney Parker?”
“Yes! They told me everything was fine. Every time I called, they said Hannah was resting. They said she was emotional. They… they hid it from me.”
Miller leaned forward, steepling his fingers.
“Ethan, we dispatched a squad car to your residence twenty minutes ago. They found your mother and sister sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea. And do you know what your mother told my officers?”
I shook my head, terrified.
“She told them that you were the one who tied Hannah up before you left for your trip.”
The air left my lungs.
“She said Hannah was suffering from severe postpartum psychosis,” Miller continued reading from his notepad. “She claimed Hannah was trying to drown the baby, and that you tied her up to protect the child before you fled the state. Your mother claims she was just too afraid to call the police because she wanted to protect you.”
“That’s a lie!” I screamed, slamming my fists on the table. “She’s lying! She’s trying to frame me!”
“I know,” Miller said softly, closing the folder.
I stopped breathing. “You know?”
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“Your mother isn't as smart as she thinks she is, Ethan,” the detective said, a dark smile playing on his lips. “She forgot about the Ring camera on your neighbor’s porch. It points directly at your side window.”
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