Chapter 18 - The Interrogation in the Annex
The private tactical annex was buried fifty feet beneath the north wine cellar of the Foothills fortress,
a soundproof,
climate-controlled subterranean bunker constructed of reinforced concrete and blast-resistant steel.
When the hydraulic lift doors slid open,
the cold,
sterile smell of ozone,
concrete dust,
and gun oil greeted us.
Marco stood waiting outside the steel observation room,
his black tactical shirt damp with sweat,
a tablet computer tucked under his muscular arm.
Through the one-way ballistic glass of the interrogation cell,
I saw a man in his late thirties strapped to a metal chair bolted to the floor.
He wore a cheap leather jacket,
his nose was bloody and crooked from a recent encounter with Marco’s fist,
and his hands were securely cuffed behind his back with heavy steel transport restraints.
On the metal table in front of him sat three disassembled burner phones,
a high-end telephoto camera lens,
and a laminated campus map of St.
Jude’s Academy with the kindergarten playground circled in thick red permanent marker.
Seeing that red circle around the very swings where Lily played every afternoon sent a blinding flare of maternal fury straight to my temple.
“Who is he?”
Nathan asked,
his voice deceptively quiet as he stopped beside Marco.
“Leonard Briggs,”
Marco answered,
swiping his tablet to bring up a criminal profile.
“Disgraced former private investigator out of Reno.
Did four years in Nevada state prison for extortion and illegal wiretapping.
We caught him sitting in the Chrysler half a block from the elementary gates,
recording the license plates of the parents' cars.”
“Who signed the checks,
Marco?”
I asked,
stepping directly up to the one-way glass,
my eyes burning into the prisoner’s terrified face.
“Julian’s defense attorney,”
Marco revealed,
his jaw tightening.
“Julian’s lawyer filed an emergency motion this morning in the federal district court in Phoenix,
claiming that Nathan coerced Emily into marriage under duress and that she is an unfit mother keeping her children in a violent criminal compound.
Briggs was hired to photograph any security incidents or armed guards near the children to submit as evidence to revoke Emily’s legal custody and force the dissolution of the Brooks family trust before the grand jury convenes next month.”
A cold,
hollow silence descended upon the observation room.
It wasn't a kidnapping hit.
It was something far more insidious,
far more vile.
Julian was attempting to use the American legal system to rip Noah and Lily away from me,
to place my babies into state foster care where they would be completely defenseless,
all to force me to void the marriage contract that kept the Brooks billions out of his treacherous hands.
“They want to take my children,”
I whispered,
the blood draining from my face until my lips felt numb.
“They want the state of Arizona to take Noah and Lily away from me.”
Nathan’s eyes went completely black,
the terrifying,
absolute void of a syndicate kingpin taking over every muscle of his towering body.
Without a word,
he reached out,
punched the electronic security code into the cell door keypad,
and strode into the interrogation room.
The heavy steel door slammed shut behind him with the finality of a guillotine blade.
Leonard Briggs jumped in his metal chair,
his swollen eyes widening in pure horror as Nathan Brooks closed the distance between them with slow,
deliberate steps.
Nathan did not strike him.
He did not shout.
He simply pulled a second metal chair across the concrete floor,
its legs screaming against the stone,
and sat down directly across from the private investigator,
leaning forward until their faces were barely six inches apart.
“Leonard,”
Nathan said softly,
his baritone voice calm enough to freeze water into ice.
“You have three minutes to make the most important decision of your miserable life.”
“Look,
Mr.
Brooks!”
Briggs cried out,
spit flying from his split lip as he squirmed frantically against his handcuffs.
“I was just taking pictures!
It was an investigative retainer!
I didn't know who the kids belonged to,
I swear to God!
I was just hired by an associate of the defense counsel in Phoenix to document security details!”
Nathan reached out with lightning speed,
his large hand clamping around Briggs’s throat,
his thumb pressing firmly against the carotid artery until the investigator’s eyes bugged out and his face flushed a deep,
suffocating purple.
“You pointed a high-powered lens at a five-year-old girl and a seven-year-old boy whose mother almost starved to death on a highway to keep them breathing,”
Nathan whispered,
his grip tightening just enough to let Briggs feel the cold shadow of the grave.
“You took fifty thousand dollars from a rat named Julian Brooks to help him destroy my family.
Now,
here is how this ends.
Option one: Marco takes you out to an abandoned copper mine shaft forty miles south of Sahuarita,
drops you three hundred feet into the dark,
and your family in Reno spends the next twenty years filing missing persons reports that nobody will ever read.”
Briggs began to choke,
tears streaming down his bruised cheeks as his heels drummed frantically against the concrete floor.
Nathan eased his grip by a fraction of an inch,
allowing a ragged,
gasping breath to enter the man’s burning lungs.
“Option two,”
Nathan continued smoothly,
wiping his fingers with a clean white handkerchief from his breast pocket.
“You sign a sworn federal affidavit detailing every text message,
every wire transfer,
and every instruction Julian’s lawyer gave you to fabricate evidence and intimidate a federal witness.
You will hand over your encrypted server passwords,
you will take the stand in the federal courthouse in Phoenix next Tuesday,
and you will bury Julian Brooks beneath so many felony obstruction charges that he will never see the sunlight again.”
“I’ll sign!”
Briggs sobbed,
coughing violently as he slumped forward against the table.
“I’ll sign whatever you want!
The lawyer’s name is Bradley Vance—he has an offshore account in the Bahamas where the payments were wired!
I have the audio recordings on an encrypted cloud drive!
Just don’t kill me,
please,
God,
don't kill me!”
Nathan stood up,
straightening his charcoal jacket,
and looked down at the sniveling coward with supreme disgust.
“Marco,”
Nathan called out as the cell door slid open.
“Have the legal team draft the affidavit.
Keep him in protective custody until Tuesday morning.
If he so much as sneezes without permission,
break his other arm.”
Nathan stepped back into the observation corridor,
walking straight to where I stood with my hands trembling against the glass.
He didn't say a word.
He simply reached out,
gathered me into his strong arms,
and held me against his chest while the storm of maternal panic finally dissolved into the steady,
unshakeable certainty of his protection.
“Nobody is taking our children,
Emily,”
Nathan vowed fiercely into my hair.
“Not Julian,
May you like
not the courts,
and not the devil himself.”
