by James Swain
“Do you have any more coffee?” She stood in the doorway wearing a sheepish expression, the empty mug dangling by its handle from her finger.
“For you, anything,” he said.
“You’re funny. Do you want to kill me?”
“No. You made a mistake and you said you were sorry. We’re good.”
“My sister said you were a decent guy. She was right.”
He refilled her mug while taking a hard look at her. The rage was gone, replaced by disappointment and shame. She’d been ready to make a bust, and it had gone south instead. He’d had the same thing happen to him as a cop and knew the hollow feeling it left.
“How much did you tell your sister?” he asked.
“Not much. Melanie was always the alpha. I just listened. It sounds like she and Nolan have been through real hell. Not to mention what Nicki’s been through. How did these sick bastards connect my niece to the Cassandra videos?”
“Nicki was in a high school musical. A boy at her school coaxed her into singing a song from the musical in her underwear, and he posted it on YouTube. The video’s pretty bad, yet it got ten thousand hits. Mostly from sickos who saw the Cassandra videos. One of them pretended to be a Hollywood producer and contacted the boy and got Nicki’s personal information, which he must have posted online.”
“You’re a hell of a detective, Jon. I’m impressed.”
“That’s why I get paid the big bucks. Can I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m assuming you posted the Cassandra videos on a site that the FBI can monitor. That allows the FBI to collect the IP addresses of the men that download the videos, and get them on your radar so you can watch them. Am I right?”
“You’re right, we do monitor them. The Cassandra videos aren’t illegal to download because it’s me the viewer is looking at. But if we catch one of them downloading other child pornography, we nail them.”
“That’s what I figured. Here’s my question. There are a dozen Cassandra videos. Based upon the date stamps, it appears you posted one video each week to keep the bad ones hooked. That tells me you had a big audience for them. How many downloads were there?”
Daniels sipped her coffee. “I don’t know the exact number.”
She was lying. Websites had cookies that allowed their designers to see how many visitors had come to the site in real time, and he envisioned Daniels checking the site a few times a day to tally the number of perverts she’d ensnared in her trap. She knew the number, but wasn’t willing to share it with him.
He went into the bedroom to clean up the mess. She followed him and stood in the doorway holding her mug. “I never would have created those videos had I known I was putting Nicki in jeopardy. The last time I saw her, she was a little kid.”
She wasn’t willing to take the blame for the harm she’d caused. He’d known cops like her before. It was all about making the bust, and if innocent people got harmed, too bad. Maybe she hadn’t realized the videos would hurt her niece, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t another teenage girl out there who bore a resemblance to Cassandra and whose life would be upended.
He put his socks and underwear back in their respective dresser drawers. His Kindle was at the bottom of the pile of clothes, the copy of The Hanover Killers front and center, and he was tempted to shove it in her face, and ask her if the harrowing experience described in the book had driven her to create the Cassandra videos.
He decided against it. Rising from the floor, he placed the Kindle on the bedside table. He turned around and saw her gazing at a framed photograph on the dresser. It was a group photo of his SEAL team taken in Yemen with the team wearing facial hair disguises and head scarves. His protruding belly made it easy to pick him out of the group. She shifted her gaze to him. She did not acknowledge the photo or his presence in it, which he found surprising. Most people who had seen it wanted to know more.
“When do you plan to tell your sister about the videos?” he asked.
“This afternoon,” she said. “Melanie and her husband are taking Nicki to a birthday party for one of Nicki’s friends. My sister invited me to join them.”
“They shouldn’t be taking Nicki out,” he said.
“I told her the same thing,” she said. “Melanie said that three guards you recommended are going to accompany them. Are they any good?”
“They’re ex-SEALs,” he said.
“That works,” she said.
He went to the dining room to clean up the mess around the china cabinet. The sight of his grandmother’s ladle lying in pieces on the floor got him angry, but he kept his feelings bottled up. He placed the shards onto the palm of his hand and deposited them into a wastebasket in the kitchen. She was right on his heels.
“That was old, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“It was a family heirloom,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I’ll replace it. It’s the least that I can do.”
He nodded and returned to the dining room and put the rest of the pieces back into the china cabinet. Replacing a broken ladle was easy; fixing her niece’s situation was not. It would require taking the Cassandra videos down from the web and coming up with a strategy to protect Nicki from further harm. So far, Daniels hadn’t said that she was going to do any of these things. Maybe she had a plan and didn’t want to share it with him. Or maybe the sting was so important to her that she planned to keep it going, and didn’t care what happened to Nicki. It sounded cruel, but he’d seen stranger things in law enforcement. Daniels glanced at her watch and frowned.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“I told Melanie I’d meet her at eleven thirty, and it’s already five after eleven,” she said. “I don’t want to be late and get things off on a bad foot.”
“I hope it goes well with your sister.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to accompany me.”
“Why is that?”
“I want you there when I talk to them,” she said. “It’ll make things easier.”
For who? he nearly asked.
“If you think it’ll help,” he said.
“I do,” the FBI agent said.
The Harbor Beach Surf Club was a members-only yacht club located on Highway A1A that charged more to rent a dock slip than most people paid for their mortgages. Lancaster had driven by its gated entrance many times but never been inside.
Daniels’s rental was a silver Dodge Challenger. It was from Hertz and was part of their Adrenaline Collection. She drove like a New York cabbie, her right foot alternating between hitting the gas and slamming on the brakes. It was like riding a bull, and he kept his hand pressed to the dashboard and prayed she didn’t rear-end another car.
“How much farther?” she asked.
“It’s less than a mile up the road,” he said. “Do you always drive so fast?”
“I have a need for speed. Does that bother you?”
“You could get pulled over. A1A has its own patrol.”
“I’ll bat my eyelashes and talk my way out of it.”
She hit her blinker and turned into the club. A security guard found her name on a list and put a pass on her dashboard. They drove a short distance to the pavilion where the birthday party was being held. The club dated back to World War I, and there was nothing fancy about it. Just a marina, a brick pavilion that had restrooms and a covered area with picnic tables, and a private stretch of beach on the other side of A1A.
After parking, they got out and approached the pavilion. It was decorated with silver helium balloons and streamers with the birthday girl’s name. About fifteen parents and the same number of kids were eating burgers and dogs and making lots of noise.
The Pearls sat at a picnic table in the shade. Nicki was eating a hot dog and looked like she was having a good time. Her parents sat to either side of her. Neither was eating. Carlo stood nearby, wearing an untucked white shirt to hide the firearm he was carrying. Although Lancaster didn’t see Karl or
Mike, he knew they were nearby.
The Pearls stood up. Nicki put her dog on a paper plate and rushed her aunt. They hugged, and Daniels got choked up and wiped away a few tears. Nicki’s parents stayed in their spots wearing thin smiles. Daniels broke free of her niece and came up to them.
“Hey, Melanie,” she said.
“Hey, Beth,” her sister replied.
“You haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you.”
“I wish you’d told me you’d moved back.”
“I’ve been busy. You know how it is.”
Daniels was a bully, except when around her older sister. Then she was a wimp. Daniels shifted her attention to her brother-in-law.
“Nolan.”
“Beth.”
“You look good.”
“That’s funny, I don’t feel good,” Pearl said. “Melanie tells me that you tore Jon’s condo apart before calling us. I can’t say it surprises me. You were always one to shoot first and ask questions later.”
An awkward silence ensued. There was not enough pavement for Lancaster to stare at. Nicki came over and broke up the party.
“They’re going to cross A1A so they can go swimming in the ocean,” the teenager said. “Can we go too? I brought my swimsuit with me. It’s under my clothes.”
“Let’s ask Carlo,” Melanie said. “Carlo, what do you think?”
“Is this a public or private beach?” Carlo said.
“Private. Only the club’s members can use it,” Melanie said.
“That should be okay,” Carlo said.
“Yay!” Nicki said.
The birthday party was abandoning the pavilion for the beach. The partygoers walked single file down a gravel path through the mangroves. The Pearls were the last to leave, with Carlo behind them talking on his cell phone to his partners. Daniels stayed behind, shamed by the exchange with her brother-in-law. In her hand were the keys to the rental. Did she really think she could just leave?
Lancaster went over and snatched the keys out of her hand.
“You’re not wiggling your way out of this one,” he said.
CHAPTER 29
A BIGGER MONSTER
The partygoers used the striped walkway to cross A1A. By the time they reached the beach, Nicki had seven adults protecting her. The teenager stripped off her clothes to reveal a pink bikini underneath and joined her friends in the water.
Lancaster stood a dozen yards away, taking everything in. There were perhaps twenty other swimmers enjoying the beautiful day, and a lone lifeguard sitting in a high chair. Daniels stormed over and grabbed his arm.
“Give me back my car keys,” she seethed.
“Not until you tell your sister and her husband what you’ve done,” he said.
“If you don’t give me my keys, I’ll arrest you.”
She had been reduced to threats, and he laughed under his breath. “What do you plan to tell the judge? That you ransacked my place without a warrant and held me against my will? Or that you made kiddie porn without considering the consequences?”
“Third time. It wasn’t intentional.”
“That’s a cop-out. I’ve dealt with perverts. Porn is the fuel that keeps them going. That’s especially true with pedophiles.”
“I want my keys.”
He’d had enough of Daniels and tossed her the keys. A reflection caught his eye. It was coming from the lifeguard chair, and he stepped forward for a better look. The lifeguard had a cell phone in his hand, and alternated looking at its screen and the kids playing in the water. In one of the Cassandra videos, the girl was wearing a hot-pink bikini. Talk about baiting a trap, he thought.
Daniels edged up beside him. “What are you looking at?”
“I thought you’d left,” he said.
“Would you like me to go?”
“No, I’d like you to help.”
“How so?”
“I found another stalker. I want you to arrest him.”
“The lifeguard? Why? Everyone looks at their cell phones.”
“Two people drowned last weekend from a rip tide. The lifeguard should be watching the people swimming in the water. Instead, he’s looking at the Cassandra videos on his cell phone and thinking the kid in the pink bikini is the same girl.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“I’ve already encountered a handful of these guys. They’re all the same. Once they spot Nicki, they whip out their cell phone and watch the videos they think are of her. They’re obsessed with her. Wait. There he goes.”
The lifeguard climbed down from his chair. He had sun-bleached hair and sunblock smeared across his nose, and his legs were nut brown and hairless. He was pushing fifty and very fit. He went toward the water holding his cell phone in front of him so he could look at the screen while he walked. None of the bodyguards nor Nicki’s parents noticed. He was a lifeguard, entrusted with keeping people safe, the perfect disguise.
“Care to join me?” Lancaster asked.
“Let me handle him. Watch my back.”
“Now you’re talking.”
They took off down the beach. Daniels had invisible wings on her feet, and he struggled to keep up with her. The lifeguard didn’t see them until it was too late. He dropped the cell phone to his side, his thumb nervously punching the screen.
Daniels whipped out a wallet and flipped it open. She shoved her badge into his face. “FBI. Give me your cell phone. Do it nice and slow.”
The lifeguard didn’t move, his thumb still jabbing the screen.
“I won’t tell you again,” she said.
His thumb was working overtime trying to exit the app he’d been using. Daniels had seen enough; she drew her gun and pointed it at the lifeguard’s chest.
“Get it from him,” she said.
Lancaster stepped forward and tried to take the cell phone out of the lifeguard’s hand. The lifeguard’s leg twitched. Sand flew in the air. Lancaster ducked and it missed him. Daniels wasn’t as fortunate and got hit in the eyes. The lifeguard went for the gun, and they wrestled for its possession. It went off, the barrel pointing at the sky. Lancaster jumped in. A man never stopped being a SEAL. His commander at basic training had said that. The lessons a SEAL learned became part of their DNA and could never be erased. He grabbed the lifeguard’s wrist and bent it back, the bones ready to break. The gun slipped out of the lifeguard’s hand, and he crumpled to the sand.
Lancaster retrieved the gun and the lifeguard’s cell phone. Daniels was trying to right the ship and get her vision back. He glanced at the cell phone’s screen. A Cassandra video was playing. The app was VideoVault, the same app that Zack Kenny had used to watch the Cassandra videos, and he wondered if that played into the FBI’s sting. He held the cell phone up to Daniels’s face so the video was the first thing she saw.
“Guilty as charged,” he said.
Discharging a firearm was a great way to break up a party. Every person on the beach or swimming in the water took off running, including Carlo and his partners, who whisked the Pearls away to safety. That left just Daniels, the lifeguard, and Lancaster.
The lifeguard’s cell phone was a treasure trove of sleaze and contained hundreds of videos of underage girls performing lewd acts. If presented at trial, it was enough evidence for a jury to find him guilty and send him away for many years. Daniels snapped the silver bracelets on and led him to the rental parked across the street.
“Do you want to talk to me?” Daniels asked.
The lifeguard stared at the ground and did not reply.
“If you play ball, I’ll see about reducing the charges,” she said.
The lifeguard’s head snapped. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your partner.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. Roll on your partner, and I’ll get you sent to a country club prison with a bunch of white-collar criminals where you won’t have to be afraid of getting a shiv
stuck in your back every time you take a shower.”
“Can I think about this?”
“You can think about it all the way to the police station.”
She opened the rental and shoved her prisoner in the back seat. She slammed the door and came around to the front of the car. Lancaster joined her. They turned their backs on the lifeguard so he couldn’t read their lips while they spoke.
“We make a good team,” she said.
“Is that supposed to be an apology?” he asked.
“You still angry with me? Get over it.”
“Only if you help me solve Nicki’s problem.”
“We’ll get that fixed. But first I need to put this asshole’s feet to the fire and find out what he knows. Care to join me?”
“You haven’t said what you’re looking for. Why do you think he has a partner?”
Daniels gave him a long look. He thought back to the question he’d posed to her earlier. How many sickos had downloaded the Cassandra videos? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? The number had to be huge, way too many for the FBI to track down every single person who’d done so. Something else was in play here, and he realized that Daniels was chasing a much bigger monster.
“I’m in,” he said.
She flashed a smile. It was the first time she’d done that. It made her look even prettier, and he broke into a grin. It was the wrong thing to do. Her smile vanished, and she turned and got in the car.
CHAPTER 30
CREEPIE
Lancaster told Daniels to drive to the sheriff’s office on Eller Drive. He’d worked out of this office for several years and was on a first-name basis with the staff. Business was booming, and there was a wait to get their suspect booked.
Being an FBI agent had its privileges. Daniels found the desk sergeant and got the lifeguard moved to the head of the line, where he was fingerprinted, had a mug shot taken, and had his arrest report filled out. The lifeguard’s name was Richard “Rusty” Newman and he was forty-nine years old. Rusty sat in a chair with his wrist handcuffed to its leg and answered the desk sergeant’s questions. When asked if he’d like to call a lawyer, he declined. This was significant, for it meant Rusty might be willing to share information with Daniels and perhaps strike a deal.
