Chapter 2 - The Interrogation in My Own Living Room
The living room that I had painstakingly designed for quiet evenings smelled of spilled draft beer, cheap barbecue sauce, and panic. The floor was scuffed with muddy boot prints, empty red plastic cups littered my antique mahogany coffee table, and the sound of children crying drifted from the upstairs bedroom.
Special Agent David Miller from the Army Criminal Investigation Division had already taken charge of the dining table. Open on the surface was an official black case containing inventory sheets, evidence bags, and digital fingerprint scanners.
"Colonel Carter," Agent Miller greeted me, offering a polite nod. "The premises are secured. No one has left the perimeter since Captain Vance arrived. We’ve cataloged the contents of the opened closet. The lock was forced with an eight-inch flathead screwdriver, which we recovered from the kitchen counter beside a six-pack of lager."
I looked across the room at Ryan, who was practically shrinking into the sofa, sweat pouring down his temples. Jessica sat beside him, sobbing quietly into a crumpled napkin.
"Ryan," Agent Miller said, his voice flat and terrifyingly clinical. "Step forward."
Ryan swallowed hard, his knees visibly shaking as he stumbled toward the table. "Look, officer... agent... whatever you are. This is all a huge misunderstanding! Emily is my sister-in-law! She lives here, but she’s always away on Army business! We just wanted to have a family get-together. The closet was stuck, so I jimmied it open to grab some extra sheets and towels. That’s not a crime! You can’t arrest a man for borrowing a blanket in a house he's staying at!"
"Shut your mouth, Ryan," I interrupted, my tone slicing through his excuses like a blade. "You didn't borrow a blanket. You changed the smart-lock code on my front door yesterday afternoon. You cut the feed to exterior camera number four at 6:43 p.m. That isn't borrowing. That is premeditated unlawful entry and grand larceny."
Jessica gasped, whipping her head toward her husband. "Ryan? You cut the cameras? You told me Emily gave you the backup passkey!"
"Jessica, shut up!" Ryan hissed, his eyes darting frantically toward the front door where two armed MPs stood watch. "I was just making sure we didn't get disturbed! I wanted everyone to relax!"
"Where is the Pelican case, Mr. Miller?" Agent Miller demanded, ignoring their bickering entirely. He slid a high-resolution photograph across the table. It showed a rugged, matte-black composite case with heavy-duty latches and an electronic biometric keypad. "This case carries high-grade military communication components and sensitive encrypted hardware. It does not contain bedsheets. It does not contain towels. Where did you put it?"
Ryan’s face turned from pale to an ashen, ghost-like gray. "I... I don't know what you're talking about! There was just a bunch of boring green metal boxes and some folders! I didn't take anything!"
"Mr. Miller," Agent Miller leaned forward, resting both forearms on the table. "Tampering with, stealing, or unlawfully transferring military hardware carrying a Department of Defense property seal carries a statutory penalty of ten to twenty years in federal prison. If that box leaves this perimeter, every person registered as an occupant under your unauthorized event will be processed as an accessory to theft of classified government equipment."
A loud gasp erupted from the living room. One of Ryan’s drinking buddies, a guy named Kevin who had been bragging about his boat earlier, immediately jumped to his feet. "Whoa, whoa, wait a second! Nobody said anything about stolen military gear! Ryan told us this lake house belonged to his wealthy family and that we were welcome for the entire weekend! We didn't touch any boxes!"
"Yeah!" another guest shouted, dropping his beer bottle onto the rug. "He charged each of us two hundred bucks for the weekend pass! He told us he owned the lease!"
I turned to Ryan, my eyebrows raising in sheer disbelief. "You rented out my home? You charged people admission to party in my house while I was deployed?"
Jessica looked like she was about to throw up. "Ryan... please tell me you didn't do that. Tell me you didn't charge people money for Emily’s house!"
Ryan couldn't answer. He slumped back against the edge of the kitchen counter, his arrogance completely shattered. But before he could fabricate another lie, Agent Miller's radio chirped.
"Agent Miller, this is Guard Post Two. We've got a situation by the east tree line. A male subject was spotted attempting to toss a heavy object over the chain-link fence behind the garage."
May you like
Agent Miller pressed his radio. "Detain the subject immediately. Secure the cargo."
I looked out the window. Through the glare of the patrol vehicle headlights, I saw two soldiers dragging Ryan’s younger brother, Tyler, back toward the patio in handcuffs. Resting in the arms of a third soldier was the heavy, matte-black Pelican case.
