THE HEIR THEY CAST AWAY

Chapter 5 — The missing Evidence

The interview room was a narrow, windowless, and small room with a metal table positioned in its center. Two chairs on one side, one on the other. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and old coffee. Alexander sat with his hands flat on the table, the bandage on his leg visible below the borrowed sweatpants. An empty plastic cup of water he hadn’t touched sat near his right wrist.

The female officer from the house—Detective Reyes—sat across from him. A second detective, older, holding a notepad, leaned against the wall.

“Walk us through it again, from the moment you got home that night,” Reyes began; her voice was even, with her eyes locked on Alexander.

Alexander switched his gaze from Reyes to the table. "Most of these days I recorded while returning home—and while that day wasn’t an exemption, I heard a sound when I got inside the house. It was emanating from the living room, so when I went to check, I saw Harry standing over her with a knife. I saw him use the weapon on her the last time before he started chasing me."

“And the phone recorded all of that?”

“Yes.”

“And the phone is nowhere to be found now.”

Alexander’s fingers pressed harder against the metal. “I watched it this morning, but I don’t know if it was a dream, hallucination, or reality. And I can’t even tell where exactly the phone was misplaced.”

Reyes was clearly not buying it. “You were alone with the phone overnight in Mr. Sebastian’s house, but it is missing now?”

“I don’t remember whether it got misplaced from Mr. Sebastian's house or while Harry chased me.”

The older detective spoke for the first time. “I’ve witnessed so many cases where a suspect always claims that he has evidence for a crime, yet he’d fail to bring forth the supposed evidence. To me, such people are guilty of what they are accused of because it’s just as if they’re looking for a way to clear their name and, at the same time, fabricate the offense against someone else.”

“I’m not guilty, sir. I’m not a kid, and I know what I saw.”

Reyes leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Sebastian says he brought you to his home in Los Angeles after finding you on the street soaked and injured. According to him, you slept in a guest room, and in the morning you told him and his wife the same story you’re telling us. Then you also told them that you have a recorded video of what happened, and it was after then that you realized that the supposed evidence is gone. My question now is, is that so?”

Alexander’s throat felt tight as he responded by saying something a bit different. “You can search the car or the room I slept in in Los Angeles if someone in that house had access while I was unconscious.”

A knock interrupted.

The door opened, and a uniformed officer leaned in. “Sebastian is outside. He’s asking to speak with you regarding clarity about the phone.”

Reyes was on his feet.

“We’ll take a break. Stay put.”

The fluorescent light hummed as both detective officers left. Alexander stared at the scuffed surface of the table and tried to slow his breathing. Gratitude toward Blackwell sat in his chest like a stone he could not set down. The man had stopped in the rain, gave him shelter during his sorrows, and then bandaged the leg. And still the video was gone.

Twenty minutes later the door opened again—and Blackwell entered with Reyes. He looked tired, yet calm.

“They searched the car,” Blackwell said without preamble. “And I had them check the guest room as well—drawers, bathroom, under the bed. Yet, nothing was found.”

Alexander met his eyes. “I’m confused. This was why I hadn’t wanted to return without the phone.”

“I believe you’re innocent.” Blackwell’s voice was quiet. “I saw how depressed you were that night.”

Reyes folded her arms. “We’re going to need a formal statement from both of you about the overnight. Chain of custody on that phone is already a problem."

Blackwell nodded once. “I’ll give you whatever you need. He didn’t kill anyone. He was running for his life when I found him.”

“That’s for the evidence to show,” Reyes said. “Right now the only clear account we have is from the husband, and the physical scene is consistent with a struggle inside the house. The boy fled. The supposed recording is missing, and those are the facts in front of us.”

Alexander’s hands curled into fists under the table. “Harry killed her because she found out about the other family and wanted a divorce. The company is in her name, and agreeing to divorce means losing everything.”

Reyes wrote something down. “We’ll look into the financials and the marriage. That isn’t related to the phone you told us about.”

Blackwell rested one hand on the back of the empty chair but did not sit. “I’ll have my lawyers make sure he’s treated fairly. He’s just eighteen, injured, and has no prior record.”

“That’s noted.” Reyes looked at Alexander. “We’re done for now. You’ll be detained for further investigation. Formal charges are being prepared based on the husband’s statement and the current evidence. You’ll be notified when they’re filed.”

The words landed like a door closing.

Alexander stared at the detective, then at Blackwell. The gratitude was still there, tangled now with a sharper isolation. He had trusted the temporary safety of that guest room. Someone inside it had taken the only thing that could have saved him. Either way, the trap was tightening, and the man who had pulled him out of the rain could not stop it.

Reyes opened the door. Two officers waited in the hallway.

Blackwell’s voice was low. “I’ll be right outside. I’m not leaving.”

Alexander stood. His leg protested as he walked toward the officers without looking back. Behind him he heard Blackwell speaking quietly to Reyes, still trying. The words faded as the hallway stretched ahead, and the next door waited.