Chapter 7 - Police Interrogate Margaret at the Local Precinct Station
Inside the stainless-steel interrogation room at the Atlanta Police Department, Margaret sat with rigid posture.
Two detectives leaned against the opposite side of the metal table, flipping through forensic laboratory reports.
“You’re looking at attempted murder charges, Mrs. Whitfield, alongside old cold-case review files,” the lead detective stated.
Margaret forced an icy, arrogant smile across her face, refusing to show a single crack of fear.
“I am a respected member of Atlanta society; you have zero proof of any criminal wrongdoing,” she retorted coldly.
“We recovered the broken ceramic jar from your kitchen floor, and the chemical residue matches historical autopsy files,” the detective countered.
Margaret’s eyes flickered with sudden panic, but she quickly masked it behind her aristocratic facade.
“I want to speak to my corporate legal counsel immediately before answering any further questions.”
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“Your lawyers can't save you from federal tampering charges once the state attorney general reviews this file.”
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