Chapter 7 - The Interrogation
By dawn, the main mansion of the Vance estate was lit up like a Christmas tree by the red and blue strobes of forty law enforcement vehicles. Federal agents, state troopers, and forensic financial investigators were swarming the property, carrying out hundreds of boxes of evidence, servers, and hard drives.
In the back of a state police transport vehicle parked in the driveway, Richard Vance sat shivering in handcuffs, his expensive clothes stained with mud and sweat.
I walked up to the open van doors, holding two cups of coffee, handing one to the state trooper guarding the vehicle.
Richard looked up at me, his face pale, dark circles under his eyes. The charming, polished heir to a real estate fortune was gone; only a broken, terrified boy remained.
"Arthur..." Richard stammered, his voice hoarse. "Arthur, please... talk to Clara. Tell her I'm sorry. I was under so much pressure from my father... he made me do it! He told me if I didn't get her to sign those documents, he'd cut me off entirely!"
I looked at him, feeling no anger, no satisfaction—only an icy, absolute disgust.
"You locked my daughter in a cage in thirty-five-degree rain, Richard," I said smoothly. "You unleashed a vicious dog on an old man. You didn't do that because your father pressured you. You did it because you're a coward who thought money made you invincible."
"I can give you money!" Richard pleaded, leaning forward against his restraints. "My private accounts in the Caymans... ten million dollars! Free and clear! Just tell the state prosecutor that Clara wants to drop the personal assault charges!"
I took a slow sip of my coffee, looking out over the sprawling estate that was now being stripped by federal agents.
"Ten million dollars can't buy back the hypothermia you caused her, Richard," I said softly. "It can't fix the bruises on her face. And it certainly can't buy you out of a twenty-year sentence in a maximum-security state penitentiary."
Just then, an black sedan pulled up behind the transport van. Sarah Vance stepped out, holding a thick stack of legal documents.
"It's official, Arthur," Sarah said, joining me by the van. "The Department of Justice has seized all Vance Enterprise assets under federal forfeiture laws. Every bank account, every piece of real estate, every vehicle, and every offshore trust has been frozen."
Richard let out a strangled, pathetic wail. "Frozen? You can't freeze my personal trust! My lawyers—"
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"Your lawyers just withdrew as your legal counsel, Richard," Sarah interrupted ruthlessly. "Victor Vance’s primary firm just realized their legal fees were being paid through money-laundering channels. They've severed all ties to protect themselves from indictment."
Richard slumped back against the metal wall of the van, his head hitting the wall with a dull thud, staring blankly at his polished shoes as the trooper slid the heavy van doors shut, locking him in the dark.
