“Thank you,” she said to the detective, rising with all the dignity in her, nodding briefly to the officer who had been so quick to dismiss her, and heading in the direction Ryder Stapleton indicated.

The detective was about the same age, she thought, as Dan Oliver. He was nearly as tall, and a little kinder-looking, with a broader face, fine cheekbones, warm gray eyes and sandy hair. He looked tired; she figured such work had to make you a little worn-out.

He had his own office—not huge, but comfortable—and there were two chairs in front of his desk. He indicated she should take one of them while he walked around the desk. Dan Oliver waited until she was seated.

Then he sat next to her.

She gritted her teeth. And then she almost smiled.

They’d beaten him once. Because George wasn’t guilty. The man had obsessed over George because of circumstantial evidence.

But they’d beaten him.

If he started up on George now, they’d beat him again. And maybe this time, he’d realize that George wasn’t involved.

“Thank you,” she said, looking at Ryder. “Trust me, I understand murders take place all over the country, and many may be similar in method and madness. But as, uh, Mr. Oliver explained to you, I saw firsthand the work of a madman.” She sighed deeply. “I’m a tour guide here in the city. I’m also aware there were a number of axe murders here in New Orleans and environs, taking place back in 1918 and 1919. I understand more fully than most people how myths can grow, how stories can be exaggerated and, yes, how killers can carry out copycat actions.”

Ryder watched her, nodding gravely.

At her side, Dan Oliver was silent.

“I, of course, was not at the crime scene in Orlando, but I believe Mr. Oliver was.” She glanced his way at last. “Or Special Agent Oliver or Detective Oliver or whoever he is now. I experienced the one scene. He saw the other. And the crime scene today?”

Dan Oliver was staring at her with those piercing eyes of his. She realized suddenly he most probably hadn’t just gone after George Calabria out of meanness. He had been deeply horrified by the crimes committed, and to him George had appeared guilty.

She turned back to Ryder quickly.