SK01 - Waist Deep
Page 12
“Hell, no,” he said, his voice pleading.
“Hell, yeah,” I said. “That’s what I need. I need to know about porn sites originating in River City and then I need to know which one is featuring Kris. And where to find the guy who runs the site.”
Adam plopped backward in his chair, his mouth hanging open. “That’s impossible.”
“Impossible?”
Adam sighed. “Well…very, very difficult.”
“But possible.”
Adam shook his head. “Not with my equipment.”
“Your stuff’s not good enough?”
“The hardware, sure. I can search faster than ninety-nine percent of the public. It’s software that’s the problem. And access.”
“Access?”
Adam sighed again. “Look, you’re asking me to run an Internet-wide search for ISPs that originate in River City. Then you want me to find one specific site out of those thousands of sites, maybe tens of thousands. And then you want to know who the owner of the site is and I’m sure you’ll want to know how to find that guy, too, right?”
I nodded.
He shook his head. “Even just looking for public information, that search is prohibitively broad, man. On top of that, a lot of sites and owner information is routed through other sites half a world away. And encrypted, too. Encryption is a bear.”
“Couldn’t you narrow the search? Look for only pornography sites?”
Adam considered. “Yeah, I could, but I’d run the risk of filtering out the very site you’re looking for.”
“She’ll be using a stage name,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”
“What name?”
“Star.”
He shrugged. “Okay, that helps a little, but we’re still talking about a huge project here.”
“Needle in a haystack?” I asked, a little sourly.
“A needle in a stack of needles,” Adam said, just as sourly. “A stack the size of Montana.”
It was my turn to sigh.
Adam stared at me for a long while, although it felt more like he was staring through me. He did that sometimes, when he was deep in thought and I was part of the thing he was thinking about. It wasn’t particularly subtle.
After a minute, he broke his gaze and scratched beneath his nose. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s the thing. I might have access to stronger searchware.”
“You might?”
“Yeah. Might.”
“What kind of access?”
He looked over his shoulder and around the Rocket. A pair of old women had wandered in and were at the counter, but other than that the place was empty. He motioned me to lean in and I did.
“The thing is, with this Homeland Security push since Nine-Eleven, the feds are partnering up with local law enforcement on some things. One of those things is computer technology. We got some money last year to upgrade all my systems. When we did that, the feds wired in the capability for me to tap into their network.” He looked around again, as if he expected FBI stormtroopers to charge our table.
“What for?”
“Homeland security. Terrorist stuff.”
“You can just use their network whenever you want?” Maybe this would be easy after all.
He shook his head. “No. No way. I have to call in and get a special password every time. And they don’t just give it to me. I have to give them a reason. Tell them what I’m investigating.”
“If you had their software, could you do this search?”
“It’s still my search software that links up with theirs. But it’s their access that’s the key.” He shrugged. “And I’d probably need to use their decrypter, too.”
“But could you find—”
“Yeah,” he said. “Probably.”
I leaned back. “Will you?”
Adam sat for a while again, staring at me and through me at the same time.
I waited.
When he sighed, I knew the answer was yes.
“I’ll tell them I got a tip that a local site was showing child pornography. That’s what it technically is, if she’s sixteen,” he said. “They’ll want a case number, but I can stall on that. I’ll tell them that I wanted to see if there was any merit to the tip before bringing in an investigator. I’ve done it before with a tip on a marijuana grow.”
“How’s that?”
“I did an account check. A guy on welfare was supposed to have over $80,000 in his account. I did a surreptitious check on his account.”
“Surreptitious? You mean illegal?”
He shrugged. “Just a little bit funny.”
“Like what you’re going to do for me?”
“No,” he said. “I suppose this is okay. But if I find the site and she’s there, I have to file a report. I’ll tell you what I find out, but I’ve got to file the report.”
I understood. If he didn’t file the report, it would look like he was just cruising under-age porn for his own purposes.
“That’s okay,” I said. “Hell, reference the runaway report on Kris when you file the porn report. I just want to know who the guy is.”
“I know. But with that information, the detective sergeant will assign the case. With that obvious of a lead, they’ll jump on it right away and do a search warrant on his place.”
He was right. The Sex Crimes Unit was aggressive, as they should be. But that aggressive stance was going to get in my way now.
“What if you didn’t write the report for a day?” I asked, looking at him pointedly. “Or if it sat in your out box for a couple of shifts?”
“What if I was a moron?” Adam shot back. He rubbed his hands together, thinking. Then he said, “I guess I’d probably have to run a confirmation check on the site identification before I wrote the report. And I could wait until the end of the day to write the report.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He shook his head ruefully. “I’m still going to look like a screw-up.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll look like a busy guy, that’s all.”
“Crawford will chew my ass.”
Lieutenant Crawford was the commander of the Major Crimes Unit, which the Sex Crimes Unit fell under. He was a bit of a bastard.
“Crawford has no right chewing your ass,” I told him. “He’ll bitch to your sergeant. Your sergeant will chew your ass. That’s the chain of command.”
“I’m glad to see civilian life hasn’t diminished your understanding of proper police procedure,” Adam said. “But Crawford believes the chain of command is a one-way street and only runs upward. He’ll be in my office, chewing my ass for being a moron and not getting the report in immediately. Then I’ll tell my sergeant about the ass-chewing. My sergeant will go bitch to everybody but Lieutenant Crawford about it. He’ll still hear about it, but won’t care a bit. And the world will continue to turn. That’s how the chain of command really works.”
I didn’t answer. He was right. I tried to see Adam’s sergeant in Crawford’s office barking at the fat balding jerk with his droopy cop mustache as he sat chewing on his unlit cigar. But I couldn’t.
I remembered Crawford very well. He’d been in Major Crimes when I was on the job. I’d worked under his command while on light duty after my shooting. He hadn’t exactly welcomed me with open arms. And when the Amy Dugger case broke…well, it got worse.
“I can’t believe he’s still got that command,” I said. “How long has he been there? Twelve, thirteen years? That many years in one command is too long.”
Adam nodded and shrugged at the same time. “He gets results.”
I snorted. “His detectives get results. He gets the credit.”
“And he doesn’t promote,” Adam said. “I heard that last go round, he turned down a promotion to captain.”
“That can’t be.”
“That’s the rumor.”
“That’s like a twenty percent pay raise,” I said. “At least. Plus, the power.”
Adam turns his palms up. “What ca
n I say? The rumor is that he turned it down because he already makes that much in overtime, anyway. And he likes being on the TV news every time something terrible happens.”
“Who made captain instead?”
“No one.”
“How’s that?”
“It was Captain Reott who was going to retire that opened up the spot. When Crawford turned it down, someone went to Reott and convinced him not to retire until the promotional list expired.”
“Why?”
“Because Hart was next on the list to promote to captain.”
I understood then. Lieutenant Hart had been a prick when I was on the job and I doubted anything had changed. The difference between him and Crawford was like the difference between a bull and a snake. Crawford came right at you and you knew where you stood. Hart was always coiled in the grass, waiting. Even the brass didn’t want him to be a captain. They’d stuck him in Internal Affairs years ago, while I was still working, and he’d been there ever since.
I let the conversation die. It had only been a cushion anyway, a way of restoring a sense of normalcy between us.
“Call me a couple of times a day,” Adam said. “Since you don’t have a phone, I can’t call you. Once I get this thing figured out, I don’t want to let it sit any longer than I have to.”
“You got it.”
Adam slid his business card across the table to me. “Use a land-line. Ask me if I can meet you for lunch or dinner. Whatever’s appropriate. If I say yes, I’ve got something for you.”
I thought that was a little bit much in the cloak-and-dagger department, but he knew better than I did, so I nodded. “How long?”
Adam shrugged. “I have no clue.”
He finished his latté in one gulp and left without another word.
32
I called Matt Sinderling after lunch. He was eager to hear any news, but I told him I didn’t have anything concrete. I wasn’t ready to tell him that his little girl may have become a prostitute briefly and might now be starring in sex films on the Internet. I hoped he didn’t frequent those sites himself. I had a vision of him coming across his own daughter’s movies and it gave me a black feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Tell me something,” Matt pleaded. “Tell me what you’ve been doing.”
“I’ve been following leads,” I told him.
“What kind of leads?”
“Let me see if they go anywhere,” I said. “If they pan out, I’ll fill you in. Rozumiš?”
“Huh?”
It was Czech for “do you understand?” My grandmother was born in Czechoslovakia and came to the United States as a fifteen-year-old girl. She used to say it to me all time. It was amazing how many different inflections she was able to come up with—one for comforting me, one for teaching, one for reprimanding. I didn’t know why it popped out, but it did.
“Just something my grandma used to say. Listen, I’ll fill you in on anything that’s worth hearing. I just don’t want to waste your time reporting every dead end.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Matt said. He sounded doubtful and after the beating Leon gave me, that sound pissed me off.
“Listen, Matt, if you want me off this case, I’ll return your money and we’ll call it good,” I said. My voice was as sharp as his was doubtful.
“It’s not that,” he answered immediately. “It’s just…well, I guess I started to get my hopes up a little. I thought there might be some results by now.”
“I haven’t found her,” I said. “But I’ve talked to someone who’s seen her since she ran away. And I have an idea where she went from there.”
“Where?” His voice was excited. “Who?”
“That’s for a face-to-face conversation. If it pans out.”
He was silent for a moment, as if trying to decipher what that meant exactly.
I didn’t want him thinking about that, so I said, “Listen, I need a car for some of the things I’m trying to do. I can rent one, but I wanted to okay it with you first.”
“That’s fine. Wait—does it have to be a new car?”
“No. It just has to run.”
“I’ve got my brother’s old car at the house. It’s in the garage under a tarp.”
“What is it?”
“An old Celica. I was saving it as a surprise for Kris when she got her license.”
“Does she know the car?”
“Know it?”
“Would she recognize it if she saw it?”
“Oh.” He thought for a moment. “I doubt it. It’s been in the garage since she was twelve.”
“Okay. That’s fine.”
We quickly planned for him to pick me up after work and take me to get the car. When we hung up, I was pretty certain he was no longer worried that I was soaking him for cash. Myself, I hoped that were true.
33
I pushed the grocery cart down the aisle, staring absently at the shelves and thinking that I should just head to the macaroni and cheese aisle, load up and be done with it. But I walked slowly up and down every aisle, enacting my monthly ritual.
I passed through the coffee aisle and threw in a small can of Western Family ground coffee. That made me think of Clell, the security guard who took me in out of the cold. It had been a simple act of human kindness, but I didn’t think that he realized how rare instances of that kindness had become. Which, I suppose, made him all the more extraordinary.
Then I thought of Kris again and pushed my cart forward. I wondered where the hell she was and what I could do to find her besides wait for Adam. Since I didn’t have a phone, I certainly didn’t own a computer or have an Internet hookup. I couldn’t very well go down to the public library and start surfing porn sites looking for her.
Or could I?
As I passed the mustard, ketchup and mayonnaise, I tried to remember what the latest ruling on library access had been. The First Amendment Nazis had gone on a rampage a few years ago, saying that any filter on the Internet at library workstations was tantamount to a free speech violation. This had been in response to a parents group asking that content filters be in place for juvenile users. As soon as the wacko liberals stepped in and cried free speech violation, the wacko conservatives answered the call, saying that all of the library computers should have content filters and they knew just where to set them.
It had gone to the city council, which passed an ordinance for juvenile filters unless the kid had parental consent for unfiltered access. But the council hadn’t put any filter on access for adults.
So were adults at the library right now, cruising porn sites on the Internet? I didn’t know. I didn’t relish the idea of sitting at a work station doing that, especially since the odds of me hitting the right site were infinitesimal. On top of that, I was sure that the library had some sort of tracking for child pornography. And, Adam pointed out, that’s exactly what any site featuring Kris would be.
I almost walked right by the mac ‘n cheese, but stopped at the last minute. I grabbed a handful of the slim boxes and dropped them into my cart.
When it came to searching for Kris online, the truth was, I was grateful that I didn’t have to do it. I didn’t want sit and weed through what was considered disgusting only a decade ago and was now seemingly becoming an acceptable hobby.
“Stef?”
I looked up and saw Cassie. She had a basket in one hand and her work smock from the Rocket draped over her arm.
“I thought that was you,” she said with her mysterious smile.
I managed an awkward smile of my own in return. “I didn’t know you shopped here,” I said and instantly felt like a dork.
She nodded. “Yeah. Work, live, shop and go to school all in the same square mile. Pretty boring.”
The smile on her face was genuine and for a moment, the darkness in my gut faded.
“Me, too,” I answered, still a dork.
She pointed to my eye and cut beneath it. “I was going to ask you about that when you came in for coff
ee, but I didn’t get a chance.”
My fingers touched the small cut, felt the scab. “Yeah. Uh…it’s a long story.”
She accepted that with a nod and gestured toward my basket. “You must have stock in Western Family.”
“How’s that?”
“Coffee and Mac ‘n cheese. Both Western Family brand. You must be a shareholder in the company.”
I smiled. “If I could afford stock in any company, you’d be looking at Maxwell House and Kraft.”
She grabbed two boxes of Western Family Mac ‘n Cheese for herself. “Kraft’s overrated,” she said. “But Maxwell House is good.”
“Coming from a barista, I’ll take that as expert opinion.”
She nodded. “You can.”
We both fell silent. At first, it was a nice comfortable silence, maybe even a hint of affection there. I thought about asking her out, but the words stuck in my throat. When I didn’t say anything, the silence started to turn awkward.
“Well, I better finish shopping,” she said. “I’ve got some studying to do.”
“Yeah,” I said.
She gave me a faint smile. “Okay. See ya.”
She walked down the aisle. I watched her go, screaming at myself inside.
“Cassie?”
She turned and looked over her shoulder at me. Her eyes were soft.
“Uh, would you like to get some coffee sometime?”
But she just smiled. “We get coffee all the time already.”
”Yeah,” I muttered.
She shrugged. “Maybe we could go for some ice cream instead?”
I smiled. “Sure. That’d be nice.”
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do that sometime, then.”
She turned around and strolled away. I watched her go, admiring her long braid and the sway of her hips. Then she went around a corner and was gone.
I looked down into my shopping cart. Right then I decided I deserved to have a nice steak and a beer with the money Matt had paid me.
I started toward the meat department. On the way, I swung back down the coffee aisle and threw in a large can of Maxwell House.
34