by Barbara Ebel
“Good question.”
-----
Before she hunkered down to study at home, Annabel knew she must call Dustin. Pete’s advice had made her certain. Not a text or an email, but a real old-fashioned phone call.
She picked up her iPhone and deliberated what she would say while looking at Oliver, who was flopped out on his bed with his legs jerking. He was engaged in a deep REM sleep after the evening’s activities.
She went to “favorites” and pressed Dustin’s number. Most likely, she figured, her call would go to voicemail. She hated that it did.
“Dustin, it’s Annabel. My thick skull finally tells me that you’re ignoring me. I’m sorry if I said or did something to offend you. Please at least give me an explanation.” She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She wanted to tell him how much their relationship meant to her, but she couldn’t. If she could, she would rather do it in person.
“There is also an issue I am faced with regarding the pediatric doctor I mentioned to you, the one I’m working with for two weeks, George Gillespie. I consider it my duty to ask a police officer about what I’ve seen in his office, or downright report it. Please, Dustin, call me.”
-----
Dustin walked out of the nearby movie theater and headed for his car. After a short walk to the wrong area, he let out an expletive under his breath. His black Acura was two aisles over and he was not thinking straight. Or thinking at all. The mindless flick he had just watched drowned his sorrows for two hours by diverting his attention, but now he needed to face his own realities.
Personal losses of loved ones took time to get over, he told himself over and over again. The magic number was one year, especially with a death of a close family member like a parent. But to him, it also included a breakup between a guy and a girl whose relationship could have been marriage material, the death of a partner in the police force, and the death of a beloved dog or pet.
Arriving at his car, he slithered in and turned the volume back up on his phone to find it ringing. The incoming call came from his captain and he swiftly swiped to answer.
“Hey, cap, perfect timing.”
“Sorry to disturb you, but Sean’s wife called the station after most of us left for the day. Sean’s memorial service is one night, tomorrow, from five thirty to nine o’clock. I thought us day shift officers could go after work.”
“That would work for me. However, that seems speedy for a funeral home to prepare a dead body that quickly for a service and a subsequent burial.”
“He’s being cremated in the morning.”
Dustin bit his tongue. Damn, he thought.
“You still there?” asked the captain.
“Yeah, but I tell you, if I find out about any more bad news, I’m going to dive into the Ohio.”
“Dustin, that would be a dirty swim. You wouldn’t make it far, however, because a barge or the current would push you to the mucky bottom.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I’ll live another day.”
“You keep talking like that and I’ll ask one of the three-to-eleven shift officers to take you to a suicide prevention doc.”
“Don’t worry about me. See you tomorrow.”
He closed the call and noticed a new voicemail, which raised the hair on his neck. It came from Annabel, and he didn’t want to listen because he might not believe whatever she had to say. She always sounded innocent and trustworthy, dependable and smart. And he couldn’t believe the innocent and trustworthy part.
Besides, he just found out that his partner, who never wanted to face fire and be cremated, was indeed going to face both. Yes, Sean might be dead, but his wishes were what was important. Either his desires were not known or were being ignored. Sadness over his partner delayed him from starting the ignition as he felt emotion gather on his face and in his heart.
Dustin let his feelings play out as couples passed going to their cars. He made a rash decision. What harm could be done to listen to Annabel’s message. She sounded sincere, as usual.
“Dustin, it’s Annabel. My thick skull finally tells me that you’re ignoring me. I’m sorry if I said or did something to offend you. Please at least give me an explanation.
“There is also an issue I am faced with regarding the pediatric doctor I mentioned to you, the one I’m working with for two weeks, George Gillespie. It’s my duty to ask the correct authority about what I’ve seen in his office, or downright report it. Please, Dustin, call me.”
He listened more attentively to the first part of her message, and after the whole thing played, he put his phone on the passenger seat. Maybe one of these days when he felt up to it, he’d at least say “good-bye.” And as far as he was concerned, he had nothing to do with whatever Annabel was perplexed about with some doctor named George Gillespie.
CHAPTER 25
Before getting ready for bed, Dustin cleaned out Solar’s cage while the bird stood steadfast on the top of the refrigerator. Why did he always get the impression, he thought, that his two-legged friend snickered at his human master cleaning up after him?
“Solar, I wish you would make yourself more useful around here and tidy up after me!”
Dustin threw dirty newspapers in the trash bucket. “At least you’re not hurling any back talk at me.”
“What’s your problem?” Solar said.
“Come on down here and keep me company. I could use it now. Even if you give me grief.”
The bird cocked his head and, to Dustin’s amazement, Solar took a short flight to the counter. Instead of going upstairs to the bedroom, he considered the fact that all evening he had only eaten popcorn at the movie theatre. He poured a bowl of cereal and smothered it with milk.
As he made his way through the Cheerios, Annabel’s voicemail came to mind. Now he was thinking more clearly than earlier in the evening. She must be working with a strange doctor who makes her uncomfortable. At least that was the way she sounded.
He put his laptop next to him, and with a mouthful, he typed in George Gillespie’s name for a Google search. A box showed up in the upper right hand corner with the man’s Cincinnati practice address, a tab for directions, and phone number. Reviews and medical biography information sites showed up as well. Other doctors around the country with the same name also surfaced. Dustin spent time reading about the guy and also learned he practiced with a female physician named Heather Clark.
As he expected, the doctor’s information all seemed flawless. He finished the cereal and thought about flipping down the cover. He never left it open when not in use, just in case Solar walked across the keyboard.
Instead, he grabbed a banana, which he should have cut up in the cereal to begin with, and went to YouTube. It couldn’t hurt, he thought, and typed in George Gillespie’s name. An account for that name appeared, but he gave little credence to it being for the man in question.
The account was registered as “public,” and Dustin counted seven boxes with videos ready to be viewed. He clicked on the first one with a running time under three minutes. The headline said, “Knockout girls having summer fun.”
With no geographic location listed, it could have been any community public pool. Several children frolicked in the shallow end of a pool in their bathing suits. Some made an attempt to swim. Two girls climbed out from the steps and walked on the slippery surface to the edge, where the camera zoomed in on their little behinds. When they turned, the video zoomed generously close up to their bodies.
Except for kids squealing and splashing, the camera person had nothing to say. Dustin shrugged. He went to the rest of the recordings, of similar content, except that both sexes were represented. The kids all seemed under ten years old.
Finally, he gathered the content came from different geographic locations, and whoever this Gillespie was, he had simply reposted content from somewhere else. His other captions boasted similar headlines: kids were “sensational” and one clip proclaimed the girl filmed would be the “next, best upcoming wif
e a guy could ask for!” The one he disliked the most said “Hot Dog!” It went further than the others and came close to crossing the line into child pornography.
However, he thought, it didn’t. Plus, it was a public account and surely someone went a little overboard in posting little girls in their bathing suits. After all, no content showed any nudity.
He said good-night to Solar and went to bed. His curiosity over Annabel’s message, however, increased. If his “ex-girlfriend’s” attending doctor was a weirdo, he most probably was a strange person for a long time. First, Dustin needed to attend Sean’s family service tomorrow evening, which would be a very sorrowful event. If he spoke to Annabel sometime in the next few days, however, he would be curious to know if the YouTube videos he watched were put on the internet by the same man she shadowed in her pediatric rotation.
-----
Officer Kendrick and one other undercover cop sat in the remotest area of the Cincinnati police station, which gave them the distinction of being referred to as “out of sight and out of mind.” Kendrick didn’t mind because he could better focus on his job. When he needed a break, he either pranced over to keep the coffee pot going or he was ready to go out in the real world and follow a lead that was coming to fruition.
No one suspected Kendrick of being a police officer because of his slight build. It was as if he had stopped growing when he turned fourteen. He’d been around in the same Cincinnati station for his whole career and had seen officers come and go.
And for different reasons. Like Sean, some had died in the line of work, and that strengthened his resolve even more that police work was more valuable to the general public than any other job on the planet.
Most of his hours were spent at a desk but, to him, what he did never bored him. For one thing, the need for his specialization had grown, just like the vast worldwide internet had overgrown. Of course, in his line of work, he focused on the territory associated with the station’s geographic area, but if he did stumble on something that officers in northern Ohio or other states would appreciate knowing about, he was more than ready to supply the information.
For him, unearthing the perverted, degrading, and illegal material on secluded websites gave him purpose. And even though the FBI and a host of other criminal investigators had taken down Backpage.com, there was as much work in the aftermath as there was before. The service, second only to Craigslist in business, had been huge, but content in its classified advertising had gotten a slew of officials arrested. Every time he thought of the erotic material hidden in automotive services and real estate and job listings, it made his blood boil.
Now, in the aftermath of the site’s demise and removal of its content related to human trafficking, prostitution, and pornography, Officer Kendrick was like a sniffer dog going in after a building’s collapse. Material from the site had been downloaded to personal computers and also subtle, small new sites had hatched to take Backpage.com’s place.
What Kendrick hated the most was all the crap out there that involved minors. As the years went by, he came to categorize child pornography into two classes, which he thought of as the “creators” and the “end users.” The damn creators took innocent children and used them to shoot the still photography or video content, thereby making the kids like slaves and emotionally and maybe physically damaging them forever. The vulgar “end users” bought and/or streamed the content, thereby keeping the trade alive. Both types of people were despicable and it was not possible to have one without the other. For every lead from him that led to an arrest in the Cincinnati area, he took immense pleasure. As an overly religious man with kids, he wanted the dangerous perverts to be put away for life, which was simply wishful thinking.
This week alone, Officer Kendrick was hot on the trail of child pornography, which he believed originated from the old site and, on Wednesday, he honed in on an IP address.
After a brief stroll around the office and a walk to the coffee pot, he sat down one more time. Soon the office would be emptying out to leave for Sean’s funeral home service but, by God, he was going to attach a name to this newfound IP address if it killed him.
-----
Police officers filtered into the funeral home for Sean’s memorial service from many other police stations besides the one he had worked in. Men and women in blue milled around everywhere and it warmed Dustin’s heart. Family members, especially Sean’s wife, were given deep condolences for their loss, but it surprised Dustin how many attendees gave him sympathy as well. Police bonded to one another with strong ties, especially when it came to partners.
After several short eulogies by family members, the captain said a few words and then added, “Sean’s partner, Dustin Lowe, will conclude for the police department.”
Dustin nodded at the captain and walked through an aisle of people to the podium. Sean’s ashes were laid to rest nearby in a special cremation urn, on a table surrounded by flowers. Additional tables held pictures and snippets of his life.
He gazed out at the room of faces, the larger percentage of people being his family of law officers.
“I had the honor of working on a daily basis with this man who we lost too early. Sean was dependable, hard-working, thoughtful, and always put himself in the line of duty to protect citizens. I know for a fact that his passion for protecting the public ran over into his off-duty hours. For me, I’ve lost a true friend who always had my back, both professionally and personally. He taught and advised me more than I deserved.
“But I’ll shut up about the loss we all feel. Now I would like to commemorate and celebrate his life with a big smile because, having known him, he would want us to carry on with the happy memories we hold in our hearts about him.”
Dustin eased into a warm smile. One of the officers in the crowd yelled, “Yeah! Sean, we love you, buddy.”
Dustin countered, “Rest in peace, Sean.”
-----
An hour later, many officers left Sean’s service, but the group from his police station still stayed. The double doors to the room stood open and many of the remaining cops filtered out to the reception area outside. Couches and chairs clustered in arrangements for intimate sitting groups. Dustin poured a decaf from a setup in the hallway and then took a spot at the end of a couch.
“Sorry you lost your partner,” Officer Kendrick said as he settled into the adjacent chair. “Sean was one of the best. Had a sense of humor too.”
“Tell me about it.” Dustin sighed. “I didn’t say anything about this in that miniscule tribute I just gave, but I feel responsible for what occurred."
“I came out of the office on Monday when it happened. Dustin, you can’t blame yourself. We all know that spontaneous, random shootings occur, whether they’re directed at police officers or the general public.”
“You’re right, unfortunately,” he said and took a swig of coffee.
“Coffee any good?”
“Better than I expected. So how’s life with the undercover snooping on illegal drug sites and money laundering? Not to mention prostitution, porn, and all the rest of the crap that human beings are so sleazy about?”
“Busy as usual. If it weren’t for all that sleaze, I wouldn’t have a job. Yet, if I could snap my fingers and bring all the perpetrators and end-users to justice, and put myself out a job, I would.” He gasped at the idea and Dustin nodded.
“Like some dirtbag I honed in on today,” Kendrick said. “I gotta dig more, but he may have loaded up on child pornography around the time the law enforcement agencies cracked down on that Backpage.com. Somebody local, as far as I can tell.”
“You getting a search warrant yet to confirm your suspicions?”
“Maybe. Before I go begging down at the courthouse, I gotta dot my i’s and cross my t’s so they don’t send me away with my tail between my legs. Nothing worse than getting real close in an investigation only to have it blow up in your face. No, I want this perp, George Gillespie, caught before he goes any further
with his salacious desire for child pornography.”
Dustin’s breath caught in his throat. “Did you say George Gillespie?”
“Yeah.”
Dustin’s blood raced in his veins. He leaned over to Kendrick and lowered his voice. “You and I need to talk. Last night, I looked him up. He has a YouTube account with video clips, all involving kids. All sexually suggestive in their own way.”
Kendrick tilted his head. “Hell, yeah, we need to compare notes. But what made you look the guy up?”
Dustin widened his eyes. “My girlfriend, I mean, my ex-girlfriend.” He rose suddenly from the chair and grabbed his coffee from the table. Kendrick followed his lead and popped up.
“What’s the matter?” Kendrick said.
“This guy, George Gillespie. He’s a pediatrician.”
-----
Dustin corralled Kendrick outside on the porch of the funeral home. Pillars lined the porch, and a few people, including officers, glued their ears to cell phones. A couple sat on a bench.
“How do you know he’s a pediatrician?” Kendrick asked.
“Again, from my ex-girlfriend. Now I have to call her. She left me a message about him yesterday, but I didn’t respond.”
“Your love life sounds complicated, Lowe, but this case is sounding more plausible to present before a judge and procure a search warrant. You better the hell call her so we can find out what she has to say.”
Dustin rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Yeah. She’s an ‘ex-girlfriend’ whom I have not officially broken up with yet.”
Kendrick sighed. “Why not?”
“Because I’m a coward.”
“In the best interest of this doctor’s little young patients, call her right now. However, please don’t complicate matters by breaking up with her now. We must hear what she has to report about this Gillespie guy.” Kendrick stared him down.
