Page 37 of Girl, Accused

Ripley pushed the button on the recording device and placed it in the middle of the table.

‘Mr. Caldwell, you know why you're here,’ Ella said.

‘Do I?’ His voice was raspier than it had been at the revival tent, as if the chase had scraped something raw in his throat. Or maybe it was just fear, drying him from the inside out.

‘Give me a clue. Why do youthinkyou’re here?’

‘Because I’m not a real minister.’

‘What?’

‘Call it what you like. Minister, priest, reverend. I’m not one.’

Ella and Ripley exchanged a glance. ‘Why would we arrest you for that?’

‘Why wouldn’t you arrest me for that?’

She took in Caldwell’s body language at a glance. Nothing suggested he was putting on an act, but the best psychopaths always made it look natural.

‘Jeremy, we’re the FBI.’

‘And?’

‘We hunt murderers, terrorists, actual criminals. You can call yourself the Pope for all we care.’

Caldwell turned and looked out into the precinct as though a camera crew might jump out of hiding and shoutgotcha.He tested the strength of the chains around his wrists and found they were, in fact, unbreakable. ‘So why’d you chase me through the fairground?’

‘Chases only happen when one person runs. Are you telling us you ran because you thought we were concerned about your lack of priesthood credentials?’

‘Yes.’

Ripley cut in, ‘Sorry Jeremy, but that sounds like a lie.’

‘It’s not!’

By Ella's deduction, Caldwell seemed to be unaware of the severity of his situation. It also took a special kind of ego to assume the biggest law enforcement agency in America cared about a small-town religious nut's designations. Either that, or he was trying to weasel his way out of this by acting the fool.

‘Let’s cut to the chase. You were a patient of Dr. Evelyn Summers, weren’t you?’

‘Yes I am.’

Ella cursed under her breath. She’d tried to catch him out with the old past tense trick. ‘How’s that going?’

‘Good,’ Caldwell smiled. ‘Lots of pills, but it keeps me out of trouble.’

‘Those sessions don’t come cheap, do they?’

‘No, but I make okay money now. Through my online channel. Have you seen it?’

‘Afraid not. When did you last see Dr. Summers?’

'Yesterday. 2 PM. We had a one-hour session. Why?'

Ella nudged Ripley. Her partner pulled out a folder from under the desk. She opened it up and showed Caldwell the top photograph. It was Dr. Summers’ body in her office cabin.

‘Because someone killed Dr. Summers last night.’

Caldwell's response was immediate and visceral. The blood evacuated his face so rapidly that the bruising along his jaw stood out in violent contrast. His pupils dilated, swallowing the pale blue of his irises. For three full seconds, he stopped breathing entirely.

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