My brother sabotaged the construction site of the woman I loved, leaving her unconscious behind the glass of a Chicago trauma bay. Then he walked into the hospital, smiled at me, and threatened to make sure she never woke up again. What he didn’t know was that I had finally found the one thing capable of destroying his entire criminal empire. / Chapter 6 / 20

Chapter 6 - The Interrogation Room

The air inside Interview Room 3 at the 12th District Precinct smelled of stale coffee, industrial floor wax, and damp wool.

Derrick sat at the scratched metal table, his hands cuffed together in front of him, the heavy steel chain clinking softly whenever he moved his wrists. Above him, a single fluorescent bulb hummed with a low, relentless vibration.

Detective Miller tossed a thick cardboard file onto the table. It landed with a dull thud.

"Let's go over it again, Sterling," Miller said, pulling out a metal chair and sitting down opposite him. "At 8:15 PM, a structural cross-beam gives way on the lower concourse of the 4th Avenue site. At 8:30 PM, the city's building department receives an anonymous tip pointing to a set of unapproved, altered engineering files uploaded directly from an IP address registered to your private security firm."

Derrick leaned back, his face expressionless, his tattooed hand resting flat against the scarred steel table.

"You know as well as I do that IP addresses can be spoofed in under three minutes, Detective," Derrick replied, his voice calm and unhurried. "And if you checked the server logs correctly, you'd see those uploads originated from a proxy server in Toronto routed through an external gateway."

Miller narrowed his eyes. "You're very sharp for a security consultant."

"I used to work in network architecture," Derrick said smoothly. "Which is why I also know that my arrest warrant was signed by Judge Vance—Marcus Vance's cousin—in under twenty minutes. That's record speed for a civil construction mishap, don't you think?"

Miller leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "I don't care about corporate politics, Sterling. A woman is in the ICU, three construction workers were pulled out of the rubble with shattered bones, and someone is going to take the fall for it."

"Then look at Julian Sterling," Derrick said, his tone dropping an octave, carrying an icy weight that made Miller pause. "Check the offshore clearing accounts for Apex Logistics—Julian's shell company. Look at the $400,000 wire transfer routed to Marcus Vance's personal account in Grand Cayman three days ago."

Miller stiffened. "How do you know about Apex Logistics?"

"Because I built the network infrastructure for it five years ago," Derrick said quietly. "And if you look inside my jacket pocket, in the lining near the left seam, you'll find a micro-SD card. It contains the encrypted routing logs for every wire transfer Julian's syndicate has made through Chicago financial institutions over the last forty-eight months."

Miller stared at Derrick for five agonizing seconds. Then, slowly, the detective reached across the table, unbuttoned Derrick's coat, and felt along the inner seam. His fingers brushed against a small, hard square sewn inside the lining.

Before Miller could speak, the heavy steel door clicked open.

A man in a sharp grey suit stepped inside, holding a leather briefcase. "Detective, step away from my client."

Miller turned, frowning. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Thomas Wright, senior partner at Wright & Associates," the attorney said, pulling a folded court document from his coat. "And this is a writ of habeas corpus issued forty minutes ago by Federal Magistrate Judge Harris. The FBI's Financial Crimes Task Force has assumed jurisdiction over Mr. Sterling's case. You have ten minutes to release him into federal custody, or I'll have you cited for federal contempt."