Chapter 11 - The Interview Room
Detective Lena Brooks met Merritt at the Newport Police Department.
The investigation had two separate tracks.
The staircase incident.
And the unauthorized payment.
Because ArcLight’s card issuer and corporate counsel were handling the financial fraud with federal banking channels, local police focused first on the physical incident and identity-related evidence within Rhode Island.
Brooks watched the original video twice.
She did not react dramatically.
That comforted Merritt.
Professionals did not need theatrics.
“Your sister appears to make deliberate contact,” Brooks said.
“Yes.”
“Had she threatened you before?”
“No.”
“Any history of physical violence?”
“No.”
“Arguments?”
“Years of them.”
Brooks nodded.
“Did she know about your surgery?”
“She attended the surgery-day family group chat. She knew I was eight weeks post-op.”
“Did she know the brace protected that knee?”
“Yes.”
“Did she say anything before contact?”
“She complained about how I walked and how the brace looked.”
Brooks wrote.
“After you fell?”
“She said it was a joke.”
“Then?”
“My mother told me to stop embarrassing them. My father said to get me out.”
Brooks looked up briefly.
Merritt felt ashamed again.
Not of what happened.
Of saying it aloud.
Family cruelty often sounded worse outside the family because outsiders did not automatically translate it into love.
Brooks asked about the anonymous video sender.
Merritt provided Camille’s contact information.
Then came the question Merritt expected.
“Do you want to pursue charges?”
Merritt’s mouth went dry.
“She’s my sister.”
Brooks waited.
No judgment.
Merritt heard Blythe’s voice in her head.
You always need to win.
Then Judson’s.
You may destroy this family permanently.
Then Sloan’s.
I assaulted you.
Merritt looked at Brooks.
“Yes.”
The answer hurt.
It also felt clean.
Later that afternoon, Daniel Cho interviewed Merritt with Naomi present.
He had more evidence.
The fake ArcLight domain registration was tied to Judson’s card.
The IP address used to log into the fake email account traced to the Whitmore home in Bristol.
The draft vendor authorization was created on Merritt’s laptop while she was likely asleep.
“How can you know that?” Merritt asked.
Daniel displayed metadata.
“At 2:09 p.m., your personal fitness tracker recorded sleep-state inactivity and elevated post-surgical resting heart rate.”
Merritt blinked.
“My watch?”
“It isn’t conclusive by itself. But your building camera also shows your mother arriving at 1:31 and leaving at 3:08.”
Merritt remembered.
Lunch.
Medication.
Sleep.
Blythe at the desk.
“What about my father?”
“He was not seen entering.”
“He was on speakerphone.”
Daniel nodded.
“Sloan told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Would she tell us?”
“I believe so.”
Daniel continued.
“Someone on your device searched ‘ArcLight signature’ and ‘vendor authorization PDF.’”
Merritt closed her eyes.
The invasion felt intimate.
Worse than theft.
Her own workspace had been turned against her.
“We also identified Northeast Executive Hospitality.”
“Who owns it?”
Daniel placed a corporate record on the table.
“Officially, a man named Peter Shaw.”
Merritt did not recognize him.
“But?”
“He’s your father’s accountant.”
Merritt stared.
Daniel continued.
“The company has almost no business activity beyond irregular card charges and reimbursements.”
“A pass-through.”
“That is one possibility.”
“Does my mother appear anywhere?”
“Not as owner.”
Merritt thought of the mailing address linked to Harbor House Consulting.
“She helped.”
“We’re not making conclusions yet.”
Naomi said, “But you have evidence.”
“Yes.”
Daniel turned to Merritt.
“There’s one more issue.”
Merritt braced herself.
“A year ago, your card funded a $9,600 charge through Northeast Executive Hospitality.”
“I didn’t authorize it.”
“It was refunded nineteen days later.”
“I understand.”
“That refund came from a joint checking account belonging to Judson and Blythe Whitmore.”
Merritt stared.
There was no more plausible deniability.
Her parents had charged ArcLight.
Then personally repaid ArcLight’s card.
Which meant they knew.
Both of them.
Daniel added, “The payment memo on the refund was unusual.”
“What did it say?”
He slid a copy across the table.
FAMILY BRIDGE — MW.
Merritt felt almost dizzy.
They had labeled her.
Not daughter.
Not person.
MW.
A funding mechanism.
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A bridge.
A resource to cross whenever their own money ran out.
