“In the interest of time, I’ll overlook the insult to my integrity. I did, however, anticipate your skepticism. You can speak to a sheriff’s office detective named Glen Derby. I’ve obtained his cell phone number for you. He’ll verify everything I’ve told you.”
He thought it over. “Why do you think this guy has any connection to Mellin’s abduction?”
“He fits the profile.”
“So do hundreds of other whack jobs. You don’t know it’s the same guy, do you?”
“No, not yet, but—”
“Is there evidence that links him to the Mellin case?”
“There hasn’t been time to gather evidence. Give it a few days, a week. Withhold the episode while this suspect is being investigated.”
“And miss the blood moon angle tonight? No way.”
“Would it make a difference if I told you that the victim this time was John Bowie’s daughter? There’s a connection for you. Doesn’t it sound as though—”
“Sounds like this guy is a copycat, who saw the fabulous irony in taking that burnout detective’s kid. There may be a story there worth exploring for a future episode, but nothing you’ve told me changes my mind about the Mellin story. It only makes me question your objectivity and validates having fired you.”
“Crisis Pointis supposed to be a documentary. As is, this episode doesn’t include the police malfeasances that prompted Billy Oliver to take his own life. Now you want to also omit that police have in custody an individual who, at the very least, is a person of interest.”
“Hello?” he said, mocking. “None of that has been proven. You still haven’t convinced me that our story iswrong. It airs tonight at ten,” he said brusquely. “That’s final. Now stop bugging my assistant. Go away.”
When he clicked off, Beth growled at her phone, “I hope they boil you in oil.”
“Whew. Harsh.”
She looked up to find John standing in front of her. She surged to her feet.
“How is she?”
“She’s going to be okay.”
She flattened her hand on her chest. “Good to hear. It was taking so long, I got worried that it was more than a concussion.”
“They took X-rays and did a CT scan. No cracks ordepressions in her skull, no brain bleeds. All good news, but every test… Well, you know how it goes in a hospital. Hurry up and wait.”
“Are they releasing her?”
“No, they’re keeping her here for at least twenty-four hours. Just as a precaution. They advised me to leave for a while so she’ll settle and rest.”
Hesitantly Beth said, “I saw Roslyn when she arrived.”
“At first Molly was glad to see her, but it wasn’t long before Roslyn switched from concerned mother mode to full-blown Roslyn. The staff is running her out, too.”
“You look exhausted.”
“Must say, I am.” He took her elbow and turned her toward the exit. “Since Mitch has Mutt covered, I booked a room in a hotel nearby. Nothing fancy. A shower and bed. I’ll sleep a few hours before coming back to check on Molly one more time before driving all the way out to the fishing camp.”
Beth said. “I don’t remember when I last slept.”
“Me either.”
On the way to the hotel, she briefed him on her conversation with Winston Brady. “He’ll be sorry,” John said. “Whatever the fallout, the jackass deserves it.”
“Yes, but Max and I are still credited as the producers. There go our reputations down the drain, and there’s nothing I can do about it unless Professor Wallace confesses between now and ten o’clock eastern.”
He commiserated, then told her that while giving Roslyn time alone with Molly, he’d called Gayle Morris and the detectives in Shreveport and Jackson and brought them up to date.