Page 36 of Girl, Accused

‘I’m uninjured, for once. Don’t let this guy know that you’re not a real agent, by the way.’

‘Technically, it was just two civilians fighting,’ Ripley said. ‘The law’s in my favor.’

Ella stared at Jeremy Caldwell through the glass. It wasn’t one-way glass, but Caldwell was pretending he couldn’t see Ella and Ripley regardless. The shame of being captured – in front of audience no less – was clearly too much for him.

Westfall strode up with a grin on his face and a stack of papers under his arm. He slapped them into Ella's hands.

‘Autopsy reports for Grant and Summers. Coroner has narrowed down their times of death.’

Ella speed-read the contents. ‘10PM Monday night for Grant. 1AM Thursday morning for Summers.’

Ripley said, ‘So if Caldwell can’t confirm his whereabouts for these times, we’ve got cause to hold him for as long as we like.’

‘Do you know who Caldwell is, detective? Has he ever popped up on your radar?’

‘I’ve seen his record, but I don’t remember him.’ Westfall nodded at Ripley. ‘Heard you took him down real good.’

‘It was alright.’

‘She’s downplaying it,’ Ella said. ‘Ripley 3:16 kicked his ass.’

‘Good one. Still, innocent people don’t run. Especially not through packed tents.’

‘No, they don't.’ Ella traced the shape of Caldwell's outline. Could this be him? She imagined the crime scenes, and Caldwell's profile slotted perfectly into both of them. He wasn't the most physically imposing guy in the world, so he'd naturally be more inclined to go for an abrupt kill. He had religious delusions, the link to Summers, the need for medication, and a message from one of the crime scenes literally hanging on his wall.

'No one sees me,' Ripley said, as if reading her mind. It still amazed Ella how she did that. If Ella wasn't so scientifically inclined, she'd think Ripley had some ability the rest of the world didn't.

‘Yeah. It’s circumstantial evidence, but it’s good circumstantial evidence.’

‘The only kind that actually holds up in court.’

‘That and the link to Summers are the best shots we’ve got, so let’s zone in on them.’

Westfall said, ‘I’ve got two guys checking out Caldwell’s place right now. Anything you want me to tell them?’

'If they could find a branding iron, that would be ideal,' Ella said. 'But I doubt we'll get that lucky. Tell them to look for keys or documentation for a garage or storage unit he might own. Caldwell might be a criminal, but he's no dummy, so he wouldn't keep his murder tools in his house.'

Westfall nodded and stepped away to make the call. Caldwell raised his head suddenly, as if he'd heard them through the glass. There was no malice in his expression, just something adjacent to confusion, or a damn good imitation of it.

‘You want to take the lead?’ Ella asked Ripley.

‘Do I hell. This is all yours.’

Ella nodded slowly. Caldwell was clearly a religious zealot, which made him both the perfect suspect and, paradoxically, almost too perfect. In her experience, the real monsters rarely advertised their darkness so openly. But then again, sometimes the obvious answer was the right one. Sometimes a guy who scrawled Bible verses after branding sinners really was exactly what he appeared to be.

The case could be over. They could wrap it up neat and clean, go home heroes. Ella could get back to DC and deal with whoever was framing her there.

But there was, of course, the ever-present nagging in her gut that wouldn’t quieten down.

Ripley tapped Ella on the shoulder. 'Ready to make him confess his sins? Oh, the irony.'

‘Something like that. Let’s find out if Brother Jeremy practices what he preaches.’

***

Ella sat close enough to Jeremy Caldwell to smell the same incense he’d been burning in his apartment. His cheap blue button-down had acquired a constellation of blood spatters – his own – that fanned across the left collar. Ripley's punch had left its signature in purples and blues across his jaw.

‘Beginning interview,’ Ella said. ‘Agent Ripley, please turn on the recorder.’

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