As Sheriff Patterson bombarded me with questions, my answers remained consistent with the excuses I’d given Donna last night… I intended to drive her to Bangor, but got a headache. Then I had to start lying again. Well, when I said I didn’t bring her home last night, I suppose that was true. I then noticed her purse on the table. I managed to cover it with a newspaper without him noticing.
He then switched his focus to me. I told him like I had said, I wasn’t feeling well. Did I call a doctor? Did I see anyone? Did I spend the whole night here alone? Did I hear anything unusual? He then asked to see the rest of the house. I asked if he had a search warrant. He said if I had nothing to hide, he didn’t need one. I sternly told him he had to have a search warrant. He knew that, right?
He said he would go get one, but I better come with him. Why? He told me there was something that didn’t make any sense. The girl was killed closer to my house than any other house on the estate. From the appearance of her body, she put up quite a fight, yet I didn’t hear anything. That’s right, I didn’t. He told me maybe I’d remember better in town.
He asked if I wanted to drive my own car or ride with him. I told him I didn’t have my keys and he knew that. He said, “Oh, yes. I’d forgotten. You gave your keys to the girl.” I reluctantly went with him.
I grew increasingly flustered at the sheriff’s station and mistakenly admitted I may have left the house last night. Patterson reminded me I said I hadn’t left. I don’t know! I also told him I was watching TV and he told me I should have gotten my programs straight. I reminded him I was sick last night. I was sick… I may have gone out. I wasn’t myself. He asked me if I was drinking, too. I told him I may have had a drink. Why was he asking? He said he was just covering all the possibilities.
He then told me he had some paperwork to do, and would leave me there for a while. What did he mean? He told me to use the time to try to remember, and this time, make it a story he couldn’t punch holes in. He said to call him when I was ready. After he left, I looked out the window, then called him to ask what time it was. He returned and asked if I lost my watch last night, too. It was 4:30. “You have plenty of time,” he said.
I had to get outta there. I had to get outta there fast! How much time did I have? With no other ideas, and growing increasingly frantic, I decided I just had to get it over with… go to the door, call the sheriff, and tell him what happened last night… tell him what is going to happen again tonight. Without pausing, I ran to the door and called the sheriff. “I remember last night,” I cried. “I remember the whole thing. I can tell you now. I know the whole story.”
It took him a while, but Patterson slowly opened the door. “Do you now?” he asked. What? He then said I shouldn’t be embarrassed by having too much to drink. People blackout when they’ve been drinking. Again, what? Then he told me I was lucky I was with Barnabas Collins, that he was about the best alibi I could have in this town. He told me goodbye and apologized for causing me so much trouble. I said, “Thank you.” He replied, “Thank Mr. Collins.” Apparently Baranbas had called the station and told Patterson I stayed at Collinwood last night. Why?
Patterson left me with some needless advice, telling me next time to drink a lot of milk before an evening like that. “It lines the stomach. It works, I can tell you.” I mumbled, “Yeah,” and rushed out.
I returned home and turned on the lights. A voice spoke, “I purposely didn’t turn on the lights.” Barnabas Collins then greeted me, sitting in a chair. I told him I didn’t know why he did what he did. He replied that he didn’t imagine I did. I wanted him to know I appreciated it, but I wanted to be alone right now. Oddly, he said, “No, we don’t have much time to talk, do we?” I told him we’d talk tomorrow and that he had to get out of there!
I said he did me a huge favor and I didn’t know why. He said it was because he knew I was innocent. Still, I had to be alone. I told him he didn’t understand, but he said he did understand. He did understand the most important thing about me. What was he talking about? He again said I was innocent. I kindly demanded he tell me what he meant. He slowly said he knew I was not only Chris Jennings, but that I was also… the werewolf.
Classic Horrors Club 
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