The murderer knew they could prove nothing. He didn’t know they wouldn’t need to. “Observe,” said the paranormal chronologist, “how I calibrate the chronoscope to a period fifty years from now, as revealed by this future news periodical,” a glassy cube appeared atop his device.

“We cannot read it yet.” He removed it.

“Now I place the chronoscope within my pentagram, that activated by a drop of blood,” which he produced from one finger, “and some hair,” which he produced from the murderer. “And so:”

A character resolved atop the chronoscope. It trailed shreds of cobwebs, some shining silver and others dripping with excrement. It was the murderer, if older and spectral.

“Spirit, answer truly and be released,” spoke the paranormal chronologist. “Are you the future unruly spirit of this man?”

“Yes,” gasped the spirit. Its words carried the air of urine and rich soil with them.

The man continued. “Did you rape and murder the girl in this photograph?”

“Yes, and more.” Its voice found body. “In life, I killed young and old, worthy and foul, and I once broke free of my bonds and killed a distracted paranormal chronologist.”

Afterward, the spirit asked, “Am I to be released?”