"Five minutes, Elias. Please."
Something in my voice must have told him this wasn't negotiable. "I'll send what I have as I get it," he said. "Check your phone."
The line went dead.
I stood on the porch, phone clutched in my hand, eyes fixed on the dark road where Sam Jarrow had disappeared. The marsh hummed its evening song. A night bird called out, lonely and searching. The world kept turning like nothing had changed, and I wanted to burn it all down.
Two minutes.
Three.
I counted them like heartbeats, like breaths, like the seconds between a trigger pull and impact.
Four minutes.
My phone buzzed.
I looked down at the screen, and Elias's message filled it—text in clean, efficient blocks, the way intel should be delivered.
JARROW, Samuel Thomas DOB: 04/15/1970 (Age 55)
Incarcerated: Potosi Correctional Center, Mineral Point, MO
Conviction: Second-degree murder (plea deal from first-degree)
Sentence: 25 years to life
Victim: Marissa Jarrow (née Bradford), age 34 Method: Manual strangulation
Location: Victim's residence, Chicago, IL
Minor present at scene: Hazel Jarrow (daughter, age 12)
The words hit like bullets.
I read them twice, then a third time, because my brain needed the repetition to make them real. Hazel had been twelve. She'd been there. She'd seen enough that the report noted her presence, which meant?—
Christ.
I scrolled down, forcing myself to keep reading.
Arrest: Same day as murder
Trial: 18 months later
Plea: Guilty to second-degree in exchange for 25-year minimum
Time served: 13 years, 4 months
Behavior: Multiple violations early in sentence (assault on inmates, contraband), improved record last 5 years
The timeline aligned with what Hazel had said, with the nightmare she'd described. Her mother died when she was twelve. Sam had been locked up for thirteen years. The math was brutal and clean.
But nothing explained why he was free now.
Another message came through before I could finish processing the first.
Released: Yesterday, 11:47 PM
