Chapter 7 - Interrogating the Handcuffed Husband Downtown
Inside the fluorescent-lit interrogation room of the precinct, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense and sterile.
The husband sat at the metal table in handcuffs, his light grey button-down shirt stained with sweat and dust.
Two detectives leaned against the doorframe, watching him with expressions of profound professional skepticism.
“Your mother and your wife both signed sworn statements confirming you attacked them with a whip,” the lead detective said.
“They lied! Check the security camera above the living room mantel! It proves my mother struck my wife first!” he shouted.
The detective tossed a printed incident report onto the metal table with a sharp, echoing slap.
“We requested the security logs from your smart home network an hour ago, Mr. Davis,” the detective replied flatly.
“And? What did it show?” the husband asked, leaning forward with desperate hope shining in his eyes.
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“It showed the camera system suffered a server crash and data wipe twenty minutes before the police arrived,” the detective stated.
The husband’s jaw dropped in sheer disbelief, his breath catching in his throat as the trap closed permanently.
