Chapter Thirty-Nine

“What do you mean, he was accidentally released?” Craig’s voice became deeper when he was angry. “This guy is a violent psychopath implicated in seven murders, maybe more, and you accidentally released him?”

Madison’s mouth was pursed, like he had just sucked a lemon. “The desk sergeant confused him with a person on a twenty-four-hour hold. He was in the wrong cell. It happens.”

“At least tell me you got prints and pictures before you lost him.” Craig’s jaw clenched so tight, I thought he was going to break a tooth.

Both Madison and his partner looked down.

“It was a busy morning. Processing was slow. My partner and I were going through Parris’s car and motel room. He kept diaries that will close a lot of cases. In addition, we have the knife used to kill Michael Murphy and what we think are Miss Land’s clothes. We’ll find him again.” Madison said.

I was ready to start in on them, but Craig was on a roll.

“You going to put Ariel out as bait again? You didn’t think I noticed you were following Parris. Why didn’t you pick him up before you got to the carnival? The old lady could have been killed.” Craig and Madison were chest to chest, both with red faces. Madison’s partner put a hand on Madison’s arm. I just waited. I didn’t think Craig was the type to throw the first punch. Although, I wouldn’t have minded if he had. I felt like punching somebody myself.

“Come on, Phil. Let it go. You can’t deny the whole situation is unfortunate,” the partner said to Madison. “I’m sorry, Miss. We’re running on no sleep. You can be sure we will bring this guy in. He has nowhere to run. Let’s get your interview over, and you can get back to your life.”

“Unless Parris comes to kill me again,” I said.

“Which is highly unlikely,” Madison shot back.

“Yeah, sure. You’ve been so right about everything so far. I feel much better now that you’ve reassured me.” I had to get my two cents in.

My formal interview involved me going over my story several times on film. The two cops were easy reads. I could tell when they were trying to trip me up. I was ready for them when they dropped the bomb.

“And what is your relationship to Agent Darren?” The partner was trying to be offhanded about the question, but his voice dropped, and his head tilted slightly to the left, indicating he was interested in the answer.

Without missing a beat, I said, “He came to the carnival a couple of days ago to see if anybody remembered seeing Parris in Cleveland. After meeting me, he thought I might be a target, because my ancestress was a Salem witch. He had a theory, which obviously was correct, about a man targeting the descendants of witches.

“After the kidnapping, he decided to hang around in case the fellow showed up. A good thing too, considering how you all left me hanging after you spotted him.” That statement shut them up. “Agent Darren has been a lot more help to me than the Skokie Police Department. I wanted to get that little shot in on tape. If that’s all, I have a friend in the hospital I have to see. If you need anything more, you know where to find me.” I gathered up my purse and left the professional sphincters to their machinations.