Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Room
The interrogation room at Fulton County Central Booking was small, airless, and lit by a single buzzing fluorescent fixture that cast long, sickly shadows across the concrete walls.
Mason sat at the metal table, his hands cuffed together in front of him, his expensive suit now rumpled and stained from his hours in holding.
Sitting across from him was not a detective.
It was Garrett Stone.
I stood behind the one-way mirror in the observation room next door, accompanied by Arthur Vance and the lead prosecutor, DA Richard Vance. Through the dark glass, I could see every line of panic etched into Mason’s face.
"You shouldn't be in here, Garrett," Mason said, trying to summon a shadow of his old arrogant posture, though his voice trembled violently. "My attorney is on his way. When he gets here, this whole ridiculous arrest will be thrown out!"
Garrett sat down calmly in the metal chair across from him, resting his hands on the table.
"Your attorney was Marcus Thorne," Garrett said smoothly. "Thorne & Associates relies on Stone Global for sixty percent of their retainer revenue. Mr. Thorne recused himself from representing you twenty minutes ago, citing a severe conflict of interest."
Mason froze. "You... you bought my lawyer?"
"I didn't buy him, Mason," Garrett corrected softly. "I simply reminded him who pays his mortgage."
Garrett reached into his coat pocket and placed a clear plastic evidence bag on the metal table. Inside the bag was a small, black USB flash drive.
"Do you know what is on this drive, Mason?" Garrett asked.
Mason stared at the black drive. "No..."
"This drive contains the complete mirror image of the encrypted server Chloe Palmer kept in her private apartment in Midtown," Garrett explained. "The server she thought was secure because it was registered under an offshore shell company in Nevis."
I watched through the glass as Mason’s throat worked in a hard, convulsive swallow.
"Chloe was very thorough," Garrett continued, leaning forward slightly. "She kept meticulous logs of every wire transfer, every offshore account, every private email you exchanged regarding Bennett Logistics' real balance sheets over the last three years."
"She... she wouldn't give you that," Mason whispered, his voice cracking. "Chloe loves me."
Garrett let out a single, cold laugh that contained no humor whatsoever.
"Chloe Palmer was offered a choice thirty minutes ago in Interview Room B," Garrett said. "Option A: face twenty-five years in state prison as a co-conspirator in corporate fraud and criminally negligent homicide. Option B: turn over the encryption keys to her private server and receive immunity on the homicide charge in exchange for testifying against you."
Mason’s eyes went wide. "She took Option B?"
"She didn't hesitate for three seconds," Garrett said flatly. "In fact, she is currently providing a detailed statement to the lead detective explaining how you personally instructed her to divert the nine thousand dollars from Daisy’s medical trust to satisfy her sister’s doctor, because you believed Alyssa was too timid to ever check the bank statements."
Mason collapsed back into his metal chair, his chest heaving as if he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs.
"She lied..." Mason whimpered, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked cheeks. "It was her idea! She was the one who said we could use the medical account! She said the pharmacy would give us a three-day grace period on the Cardio-Vect!"
"It doesn't matter whose idea it was, Mason," Garrett said, his voice dropping into a register that sent chills through the observation room behind the glass. "You signed the transfer. You held the authority. And while your daughter was taking her last breath, you were asking my daughter to donate her corneas so you could cover the rest of Chloe's sister's bill."
Garrett leaned across the table until his face was inches from Mason’s.
"Do you know what is going to happen to you now, Mason?" Garrett whispered.
Mason didn't answer. He was weeping openly now, his shoulders shaking with pathetic, helpless sobs.
"You are going to trial," Garrett said, every word delivered like a iron spike being driven into concrete. "I will personally fund the prosecution’s special investigation unit. I will hire the finest forensic accountants in North America. You will be convicted on every count. You will lose your business, your home, your cars, your freedom, and your name."
Garrett stood up, pulling his coat straight.
"And when you are sitting in a six-by-eight cell at Hays State Prison for the next thirty years," Garrett added, looking down at the broken man on the floor, "you will remember that you sacrificed your daughter’s life for nine thousand dollars... and it cost you everything you ever owned."
Garrett turned his back on Mason and walked toward the heavy steel door.
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"Mr. Stone!" Mason screamed, dragging his cuffed hands across the table, his chair screeching against the floor as he tried to stand. "Garrett! Please! Tell Alyssa I’m sorry! Tell her I love her! Please don't let them leave me in here!"
Garrett did not stop. He walked out of the room, letting the heavy steel door slam shut behind him with a loud, absolute clang that echoed through the concrete hallway.
