“What is it, Susan?” the captain asked, studying the papers on his desk.
“Sir, we just got a fax from the B.O.P. They are informing us that Daniel Jeffery has been granted parole.”
“Humm, ok, – Wait a minute. The! Danny Jeffery?
Jesus H. Christ! He killed three officers and they’re letting that son-of-a-bitch out. Get the warden on the line, this is bull shit.”
“Sir, he wasn’t in prison. He was in a mental institution. It appears they have found him sane.”
The captains plush leather chair, with the walnut arms, squawked in protest as he threw himself back in disgust. “When are they going to release him, Susan?”
Susan removed the pencil from her bun of gray hair and used it to followed the lines. “Sir, they released him at eight this morning.”
“Thanks, Susan. I need to call Rhyme and let her know that her husbands killer is back on the streets.”
“Sir, do you want me to look it up?”
“No, thanks. It hasn’t changed in twenty years. I have it here.