Chapter 7 - The Interrogation of Derek Hollister
By 3:00 AM, the living room had been cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape, and Toby had finally fallen asleep under the watchful care of child services counselors and my mother, who had rushed over from two towns away.
I sat in an interrogation observation room at the county prosecutor’s office, sipping black coffee from a styrofoam cup. On the other side of the two-way mirror, Derek sat cuffed to the metal table, his chest wrapped tightly in medical bandages, his face gray and defeated.
Across from him sat Detective Sarah Lin from the State Police Major Crimes Division. In front of her lay a thick stack of printed transcripts from the tiny USB drive Toby had retrieved from the television remote.
"Let’s go over file twelve, Derek," Detective Lin said, her tone as dry as autumn leaves. "You and Julianne Vance established three shell corporations registered in the Cayman Islands under the names *Vance Logistics Holdings* and *DH Asset Management*. On October 4th, you transferred eighty thousand dollars from Julian Hollister's legacy educational trust into an account managed by an unlicensed mechanic in Trenton named Marcus Kane."
Derek stared at the metal table, refusing to speak.
"Marcus Kane was picked up forty minutes ago at his garage," Detective Lin continued, leaning forward. "He didn't have your brand of loyalty, Derek. The minute our tactical team breached his shop, he gave us the solenoid valve, the remote receiver, and the text messages detailing your instructions to tamper with Claire's vehicle."
Derek flinched.
"You're facing attempted murder in the first degree, conspiracy to commit murder, child endangerment, grand larceny, insurance fraud, and witness tampering," Detective Lin said smoothly. "Julianne is currently in the adjacent holding cell. She has already asked for a proffer agreement. She's claiming that the entire plan was your idea—that you coerced her through financial blackmail."
Derek’s head snapped up. "That lying snake!" he spat, coughing as the sudden movement tore at his cracked ribs. "She planned the whole thing! She approached me three months after Julian died! She told me she had four million dollars tied up in an estate that she couldn't access without a surviving spouse’s signature, and that if I married Claire, we could split the liquidation fifty-fifty!"
"Keep talking, Derek," Detective Lin murmured, gesturing toward the digital recorder on the table.
"She gave me the poison protocols she used on Julian!" Derek shouted, his voice cracking with hysteria. "She kept a vial of suxamethonium chloride in her safety deposit box at First National Bank! She told me that if Claire ever discovered the trust fund shortages, we would use it to simulate an asthma attack or cardiac arrest! I didn't want to kill Toby! That was all Julianne! She said an eight-year-old child with an active trust would require court-appointed guardians until he was eighteen, and we couldn't wait ten years for the money!"
Behind the glass, I closed my eyes.
Every word was a nail in the coffin of the nightmare we had lived through. Derek had married me not out of affection, not out of companionship, but as an infiltrator executing an eight-figure hostile takeover of my family. The daily cruelty, the petty humiliations, the bowl of popcorn dumped over Toby’s head—they were all designed to wear me down, to make me doubt my parenting, to make Toby retreat into a shell of silence so no one would notice the slow, methodical theft taking place right before our eyes.
Detective Lin stood up from the table, gathering her folders.
"Thank you, Derek," she said coldly. "Your confession has been recorded. You've just guaranteed yourself consecutive life sentences."
May you like
She walked out of the room, leaving Derek staring at his own reflection in the two-way glass, completely alone with the ruin of his greed.
***
