Free Spider Season by John Morgan Wilson

the district attorney handling the case didn’t feel that grand theft auto and misdemeanor battery charges were warranted. Those charges were dropped, and the suspect pled guilty to misdemeanor trespass. He’d been sentenced to three months but was out of jail in two days.
    “Catch and release,” I said.
    It was the term the press had given to the Sheriff’s Department policy of quickly discharging criminals convicted of minor or nonviolent offenses because there wasn’t enough space in county jail to hold them all. The county jail system was teeming with more than eighteen thousand prisoners on any given day, reportedly the largest jail population in the world. For convicted lawbreakers who weren’t considered predatory or dangerous, it was a turnstile operation—in and out in days or even hours—except for the unlucky ones still awaiting trial, who couldn’t cut a deal or afford bail and might languish behind bars for months, if they were lucky enough to survive. There’d even been violent convicts released well before their mandated terms were up; one of Templeton’s investigations had revealed that some had killed new victims on days when they should have still been locked up.
    “As I said,” Haukness repeated, his delivery as flat as a Texas plain, “he served two days before release.”
    “And now he’s back in West Hollywood, stalking me.”
    “It’s a small city, Mr. Justice. Two sightings of the guy could be coincidence.”
    “I also got a strange phone call the other night.”
    I told him what the caller had said. Haukness seemed unimpressed.
    “You’re certain it was the suspect calling? You recognized his voice?”
    “I can’t say that, no.”
    “He hasn’t approached you, or come onto your property?” I shook my head. “Mr. Justice, you’re certainly free to file a complaint if you wish. But what you’ve told me so far doesn’t remotely rise to the standard of a crime.”
    “Can’t you tell me something else about this guy? Since I was the victim.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Were you?”
    “I’m the victim of record, Detective. That should count for something.”
    “There’s something you need to know, Mr. Justice. Two days ago, I received a CD in the mail. Someone with a high-tech cell phone videotaped the incident in which you alleged assault at the hands of the suspect.”
    I hesitated, digesting this new information. “So you have the entire incident on video?”
    He nodded. “You might be the victim of record at the moment, but that could change.”
    “Meaning what?”
    “We’re currently reviewing that video, along with witness statements, and weighing possible charges against you.”
    “What kind of charges?”
    “Assault, giving false information to a police officer. Those are the two under discussion. The video leaves no doubt that you were the aggressor.”
    “He had no business being in my car. Or coming back here, trying to intimidate me.”
    “This bookstore event was a private affair?”
    “Of course not.”
    “It was promoted in some way?”
    “Probably.”
    “He’s got a right to be wherever he wants, Mr. Justice, as long as he’s not threatening you or trespassing on your property.”
    “The guy’s got a screw loose, Detective.”
    Haukness clammed up as two men came in, seeking temporary parking permits for a dinner party they were having that night. A young deputy took care of them while the detective led me a few steps down the counter, where he lowered his voice.
    “I’m going to go out on a limb here, Mr. Justice. Apprise you of a few facts you might not be aware of.”
    “That’s why I came down here, Detective. To get some information.”
    “He’s a veteran, Marine Corps. Lance corporal, served three tours of duty in Iraq. Got himself involved in some pretty horrific stuff over there.”
    “This excuses the fact that he’s stalking me?”
    “If that’s what he’s doing.”
    “Maybe his military background makes him more