Crime Time

I flipped to the final pages of the composition book, hoping for the latest entries. There, circled in red ink, were two lengthy numbers, followed by exclamation marks. Surely they represented something special to Quinn LeBlanc. My ringing cell phone shattered my concentration.

"Just an update," Detective Dick announced. "We got lucky and pulled a single finger print from the rest room door. John Luke Grasso is our man. He's getting careless. We caught two intersection videos of the van traveling in the direction of route 154. That goes up in the hills. There are numerous side roads but this is becoming a massive man hunt. The boys from Washington are going all out. I'm really optimistic on this one." I had related to the detective what I'd learned from Willard Humphries, Grasso's cell mate, that he had a hide out somewhere away from Santa Barbara. Dick said they were checking title records of Grasso's family members in an effort to find the property. I thanked him and wished I shared his confidence.

My beloved Betsy, my world, was in his hands. I couldn't believe it was happening. My mind was like a thousand pieces of shattered glass, impossible to make whole. While tinkering with the machines temporarily took my mind from what was happening, Dick's call flooded it back like a broken pipe. There was nothing more I could do here absent Howie so I rounded up patrolman Murphy and asked him to return me to the hospital. In route, he pulled into a fast food drive-through and ordered two hamburger meals. I tried to decline but he insisted I eat so I complied. I felt like a zombie, being led around aimlessly.

Howie stood on the hospital steps.

Santa Barbara County, California. The fact that she shows no terror as she sits before me is most vexing. She is naked except for an old tee shirt of mine which, out of my benevolence I allowed her to wear. Her daughter is secure in the sealed room beneath the barn so it is only the two of us in my cabin. In an act of feigned mercy, I left ample stores of food and water with the child, as if their stay will be lengthy. I have no fear this woman will attempt to escape as she sees my knife and knows full well her daughter's life is in my hands. She doesn't realize her time on this earth is ebbing to a close, perhaps only minutes from now after she answers my questions.

"My dear, do I have the honor of finally meeting the famous psychic tipster or were you but the helper of the young mother who died so suddenly in that delightful New Hampshire town?"