Chapter 550 - 146 Federal Questions

Chapter 550: Chapter 146 Federal Questions

Aria’s POV

How the hell did I end up rotting in this godforsaken holding cell?

None of my usual clients from the families would have ratted me out. And where was that corrupt detective I’d been paying monthly bribes to for insider information on any investigations into our operations? He wasn’t among the cops who slapped the cuffs on me. Something had gone catastrophically wrong with my network, but what exactly? Either way, I needed to figure out an escape route from this nightmare, and fast.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back," a uniformed officer barked as he approached my cell.

I obeyed without protest. I hadn’t uttered a single word since they dragged me in here and intended to keep my mouth shut. No point stirring up more trouble than necessary. He clicked the handcuffs into place and marched me down a sterile corridor to an interrogation room where two men sat waiting. One was the detective who’d busted me, wearing that smug expression like he’d just taken down a major crime boss. The other guy was a stranger—but who the hell was he?

"Aria! Such a privilege to have you grace our modest precinct with your presence. I trust you’re finding your temporary quarters satisfactory, but don’t get too comfortable. By tomorrow evening at the latest, you’ll be trading this place for a nice federal penitentiary cell," the detective sneered, clearly savoring every moment of my downfall.

"Federal prison?" I asked, the full weight of my predicament finally sinking in.

"Oh absolutely, this is just a brief layover, you might say," the detective taunted. "Meet Special Investigator Gideon. He’s got some very interesting questions about your side business, and frankly, I’m dying to hear what kind of story you’ll spin for us."

The detective gestured toward his companion, another fed by the look of him. I maintained my silence and studied him carefully. My situation was looking increasingly dire, especially since they’d caught me in the middle of an operation, but I’d keep my damn mouth shut until I could devise some kind of exit strategy.

"Aria, the matters I need to discuss with you concern certain activities you engaged in many years ago."

I couldn’t mask my shock when I heard those words.

I had a pretty clear idea what he was fishing for, but why dig up ancient history now, after all these years?

"Whatever you think you know about the past, that was decades ago. Ancient history that wouldn’t concern federal investigators today," I said, maintaining steady eye contact.

"That’s where you’re completely mistaken. Your past activities are of tremendous interest to federal law enforcement." Gideon’s smile was predatory. "Let’s begin with this: were you acquainted with Mrs. Claire Ward Sullivan, wife of the Sullivan family patriarch?"

"Everyone in the territory knew about Mrs. Sullivan. She married into the Sullivan operation, one of the most powerful families in the region controlling high-end real estate and art acquisition. That family name carries serious weight," I replied confidently, since this was widely known information throughout the underworld.

"Interesting perspective. How exactly do you know these details?" He studied me intently. "When you disappeared from the territory, Mrs. Sullivan hadn’t yet married into the Sullivan dynasty. In fact, Nathaniel Sullivan had only recently lost his first wife."

"Well, somebody must have filled me in over the years through the grapevine, I can’t remember specifics..."

Damn it to hell. I’d made a critical error. I needed to watch my words much more carefully with these federal questions.

"Who exactly have you maintained contact with from that territory over the years?" The investigator was systematically backing me into a corner.

"No one in particular, but you run into people from the old neighborhood occasionally over the years." That was the best deflection I could manage.

"Tell me, Aria, you delivered Nathaniel Sullivan’s first wife’s child. What went so catastrophically wrong? Why did both the mother and infant die during what should have been a routine delivery?" He didn’t ask whether I’d handled that birth—he stated it as an established fact. How the hell did he know I was the one who managed that delivery? What had surfaced back in that territory that I wasn’t aware of?

Had they finally gotten to Claire?

"Women die during childbirth in our line of work more often than people want to admit," I shrugged, attempting to project indifference. "She drew the short straw, that’s all. I was providing a professional service to the family. The infant arrived prematurely, and the woman developed dangerously high blood pressure."

"And why exactly did you handle this high-risk delivery instead of getting her proper medical attention at a legitimate hospital? Why wasn’t she transported to a real medical facility? From what I understand about obstetrics, her elevated blood pressure made this an extremely dangerous situation requiring specialized care." This investigator knew far too many specific details for comfort.

"Couldn’t tell you the family’s reasoning. All I know is they summoned me, I performed the necessary procedures, and when I left that night both mother and child were breathing and stable. If they died sometime after my departure, that tragedy has nothing to do with my professional services," I said, feeling my anxiety climbing despite my best efforts to stay composed.

"That very same evening, before Mrs. Sullivan’s delivery, you attended another birth on the outskirts of the territory. What transpired there? That woman was rushed to a legitimate hospital in critical condition, and to this day she maintains she delivered twins, even though her husband discovered only one infant in the room when he returned." How the hell did he know about her? She lived far from the main territory, rarely ventured into town—practically nobody knew she even existed.

"That woman’s clearly suffering from some kind of trauma-induced delusion. If her husband found only one child in that room, it’s because there was only one child born," I replied, my anxiety spiking noticeably.

"Are you absolutely certain about that assessment, Aria?" The investigator pressed harder. He obviously knew much more than he was revealing. I needed to figure out exactly what intelligence they’d gathered. I needed to contact someone with connections immediately.

"Investigator, I’m invoking my right to legal counsel. I want to make a phone call to my attorney." I turned toward the detective, who was still wearing that insufferable smirk.

"Oh Aria, we were having such a productive conversation!"

The detective’s sarcasm was becoming increasingly intolerable. Arrogant bastard.

"It’s my constitutional right, detective. I won’t be answering another single question until I make that call and get proper legal representation in this room." I insisted firmly. The two men exchanged meaningful glances.

"Fine by me," the detective conceded. "Here, you can use my personal cell phone."

"Absolutely not. I want to use the station’s official landline. I’m not using your personal device so you can monitor or harass whoever I contact for legal assistance," I replied without hesitation.

"My, aren’t we the paranoid one!" The detective’s sarcasm was grating on my last nerve. "Fine, have it your way."

He escorted me to an old-fashioned desk phone across the room. I’d observed earlier that it was an older model without caller identification display, which made it perfect for my immediate needs.

"Move her restraints to the front, and when she finishes the call, escort her back to the holding cell," I overheard the detective instructing the uniformed officer who’d brought me from my cell.

With my hands cuffed in front of my body, I grabbed the handset and quickly dialed the number, positioning myself strategically to block their view of the keypad.

"What." That familiar, ice-cold voice answered. At least she wasn’t sitting in a federal holding cell somewhere and could still potentially help me out of this mess.

"Darling, how have you been?" I asked with forced cheerfulness, as though speaking to a cherished old friend.

"What do you want from me?" Her irritation was crystal clear—completely understandable, since throughout our long association I only reached out when I needed financial assistance or favors.

"I need high-quality legal representation. The feds have arrested me," I stated directly.

"And exactly why should that be my concern? I warned you repeatedly that your little side operations would eventually land you in serious federal trouble." That woman had always been completely self-serving.

"Yes, but would you believe they’re asking detailed questions about events that occurred long ago?" I spoke with deliberate calm.

"What exactly did you tell them?" Her tone instantly became hostile and threatening. I knew she’d do precisely what I needed her to do now.

"That I require immediate legal counsel. For the moment," I replied evenly and heard her cursing viciously on the other end. "One of the top-tier attorneys, darling!" I emphasized that last word with particular meaning. "Oh, and it absolutely must be today, within the next few hours, because I have no intention of being transferred to federal prison." I lowered my voice to barely above a whisper. "Or I might just decide to make a comprehensive deal with these federal investigators." I hung up immediately without giving her any opportunity to respond and was promptly escorted back to my holding cell.