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“Maybe ... I don’t know ...”
Valerie had an epiphany. “Wait a second. Mr. Torben, did you suddenly change your behavior in Elmwood before your release because you were frightened that you’d end up somewhere worse?”
“Yes!” he said, slamming his hand on the table. “I ... I know I have bipolar disorder, but I ... I didn’t want treatment at one of those bad places. I just want to be left alone. Uncle Bill leaves me alone all the time.”
“He’s not in the house much?” Valerie asked.
“No,” Torben answered. “It’s his second house. Falling to pieces. And he travels a lot, but he keeps an eye on me. Video cameras all over the place.”
Charlie leaned forward. “Are you telling me there’s 24-hour surveillance on the place?”
Torben nodded. And Mr. Linford smiled. “Well, it seems we could have a record of where my client was on the nights your three victims were killed.”
Valerie’s heart sank. “Mr. Torben, were you at home all last night?”
“Yes.”
“And did you come near Elmwood Psychiatric Retreat?”
“No,” he said. “Uncle Bill’s security cams will show that.”
Charlie let out a loud sigh. “You still assaulted Federal agents.”
“Because he was afraid,” the lawyer argued. He turned to Peter Torben “I’m sure with an agreement to undergo some in-home therapy and an apology, Mr. Torben here won’t see any significant jail time.”
Valerie stood up. “Ifhe’s innocent. Please wait here, Mr. Torben. I’ll have an officer come in and process you. You’ll most likely spend the night here before being up in court in the morning.”
“I’ll have you home in an hour,” Mr. Linford whispered to his client, the smarm oozing out of him.
Valerie didn’t take the bait. She walked out of the room with Charlie by her side. But she knew that if the security cam feed showed Peter Torben was at home during the murders, there would be no case against him.
The killer would still be out there, lurking through the streets of Buford Town. Undetected, and no doubt grinning from the shadows.
Out in the hallway as they walked to the incident desk, Charlie said what Valerie was thinking. “What if he’s not our guy?”
“Then we keep looking. We redouble our efforts and search through Elmwood’s files, and we can ask the local PD to draw up a list of anyone in town they know who has been violent toward women. We’ve got to find something!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The killer sat on the park bench toward the end of Main Street. He sat in the autumn sun, watching the leaves trundle by in a cold wind.
The townsfolk of Buford went about their day, but he could sense it. News of his third kill had come, and they were frightened by it.
He had heard that the FBI had brought in an ex-patient from Elmwood. Rumors swirled around the town like confetti. Nothing could be kept secret for long.
He hoped they would pin it on the man. That would give the killer even more space to maneuver. Then he could enjoy the panic as they discovered a fourth body and the cold realization that the killer was still among them.
His was important work. And he had to complete that work.
Across the street, the killer watched an old man come out of a store and hobble around, looking like every step was a struggle.
The old man was having a hard time getting back across the street. He was using a cane, and he was slow. The killer watched him, wondering if he could kill him and get away with it. But he knew that was where others had failed. They had become reckless. He had to stop himself from falling into a blood lust
He watched as the old man made it to the other side and disappeared into a small crowd walking along Miller Street.
The killer was disappointed.
Although he knew it was folly, he fantasized about breaking the man’s neck in the middle of that crowd, just to see how they would react. He liked the idea of killing someone in public, where anyone could see. It made him feel powerful.