“The state police don't like me very much.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, the head of the current investigation, Sergeant Griffin, used to be my next-door neighbor. Sergeant Griffin never liked me much. He was always working, you know-those state police detectives have very important jobs. But that meant his wife was home alone a lot. We became good friends, and I think… well, I think Sergeant Griffin might have been threatened by that. Not that he had any reason to be! His wife was a lovely lady, very nice. I don't have any family, and she was very sweet to keep me company. She was really a wonderful, beautiful, sexy lady.”

“David, isn't it true that Sergeant Griffin was the arresting officer in your murder case?”

“Well, yeah. And that makes him mad, too. I mean, it took him nearly a year to catch me, Maureen, and I lived right next door. When you're a state police detective, I think that's a little embarrassing.”

“This was the infamous Candy Man case, was it not?”

“I heard that's what they called me.”

“You were found guilty of murdering ten children, isn't that correct, David?” She regarded him sternly. “The bodies of the children were found buried in your basement, and you are now serving ten consecutive life sentences with no hope of parole. Isn't that correct?”

David Price humbly bowed his head. Sitting once more in the private interview room of ACI's rear hall, he practiced looking contrite. “It shames me to say it, Maureen, but you are correct. I've done some bad things in my time. On the other hand, I think that's why the College Hill Rapist latched on to me. He seems to regard me as some kind of hero.”

“The College Hill Rapist is impressed by you?” She looked dubious, maybe it was disgusted.

“I believe so, Maureen. He said that in the first letter. He was doing something he thought only I would understand.”

“He told you about the rapes?”

“In the most recent letter. He provided very graphic detail, Maureen, including things only the real rapist could know. Which is what I've been trying to tell the police.”

“Can you give us an example, David? What is something only the ‘real rapist' would know?”

David switched from looking contrite to looking troubled. “I don't know, Maureen… It's an official investigation. Maybe I should keep quiet. Sometimes the police don't like the public to know everything. It compromises the investigation. I wouldn't want to do anything like that…”

Maureen took the bait. “Authenticity, David,” she responded instantly. “If you give us just one detail, one little thing that only the real College Hill Rapist would know, that would prove the authenticity of your letters. And that would be a huge break in the investigation. People would be very proud of you.”

“You think?”

“One little detail, David. Just one little detail.”

“Well, I can think of one. But, it's kind of graphic…”

Maureen leaned closer with the mike. “This is a serious crime, David. The women of Providence are scared. We need to hear what you know.”

“Well, okay. He, um, well, he uses douches on the victims. That's a detail. He's used it on all of them, when he was done. The police think it's because he's trying to remove… well, you know. I can't say it in front of a lady.”

“Semen, David?”

“Well, yes.” David squirmed in the orange plastic chair, then looked right into the camera and blushed charmingly. “So he uses a douche when he is done with each woman. But the police are wrong, Maureen. He's not removing semen. Instead, according to his letters, he's… well, he's putting stuff in. He's using the douche to spray another man's sample, Eddie Como's DNA, at the scene. And that's why the police can't catch him. All the evidence points to another guy. Let's face it, four attacks later, the police are no closer to identifying the real College Hill Rapist. They haven't a clue.”

Sitting across the table, Maureen was clearly breathless. “This man thinks he's invented the perfect crime, doesn't he, David?”

“Oh, absolutely. He's proud of what he's done. And he has no intention of stopping. His letters are very clear. He enjoys hurting women. Honestly likes it. And he's going to keep going and going and going-”

“You've told this to the state police?”

“Maureen, I've been calling the police ever since Eddie was shot, poor guy. The minute I heard he was gunned down at the courthouse, I knew the letters were for real. This guy, you see, he framed Eddie and then he killed Eddie so it would look like a dead man was attacking Providence's coeds. He's smart, Maureen. Very smart. That's what I've tried to tell the police.”

“You've actually spoken with the police?”

“Sergeant Griffin finally met with me this morning. It didn't go well, though, Maureen. He threatened me with interfering with a police investigation. Then he got mad and started going on about his wife. I'm telling you, we were just friends!”

“Did you show Sergeant Griffin the letters you received?”

“He never gave me the chance. From the beginning, it was obvious he thought I was lying.”

She leaned forward intently. “Are you lying, David?”

David looked straight at the camera, and deep into the eyes of the viewing public. “No, Maureen. And the fact that I know about the douches should be proof enough. Call the ME, call a Providence detective. They'll tell you that a Berkely and Johnson's Disposable Douche with Country Flowers was found at every rape scene, even this last one. Now how could I know that if I hadn't learned it from the real College Hill Rapist?”

Maureen turned toward the camera. She said somberly, “In fact, I learned just this morning from an inside source that douches are considered a signature element of the College Hill Rapist's attacks, something that has never before been revealed to the general public. Also, police found a used douche in the home of slain college student Sylvia Blaire, raising the theory that she is the College Hill Rapist's latest victim.” She turned back to David, her expression grave. “David, I don't think you're lying. The viewing public doesn't think you're lying. So tell us the real name of the College Hill Rapist.”

And David Price, reformed sinner for the day, said, “I'm sorry, Maureen, but I don't think I should tell you that.”

“Come on, David. You want to make good. You want to help the public. Here's your chance.”

“I should tell the police and only the police.”

“But according to you, David, the police don't believe you.”

“I know. And it's sad, very sad, Maureen, because I received a new letter just this morning. The College Hill Rapist went a whole year without attacking a woman because he wanted to kill Eddie first and wrap up his plan. Now he's done that. Now he's ready to make up for lost time. I'm pretty sure… No! I'm absolutely certain he's going to attack another girl tonight.”

“He's going to strike again, tonight?”

“I think so, Maureen. Yes, ma'am, I'm sure.”

Maureen leaned across at the table.

Her blue eyes were blazing. She was gripping the microphone so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She was jazzed. Her cameraman was jazzed. In the small room, they radiated pure energy. David amused himself by picturing them both dead. “David, tell us his name. You did a horrible thing once. You kidnapped little kids, you hurt children, you damaged a lot of families out there. People still remember that. There are people watching this right now, wondering why they should believe any word spoken by a monster such as you. Tell those people the College Hill Rapist's real name. Show those people that you're ready to make amends.”

“I can't.”

“What do you mean you can't?” Maureen was nearly shouting now. “Do you or don't you know the name? Speak to me, David. Help us! According to your own words, another innocent college student is doomed to die!”