by Al Boudreau
I looked at Andrew and wrinkled my mouth. “Bet … Betty White?”
“Ha! Just wanted to see if you were paying attention. But seriously, that’s what makes the dark web so interesting. And dangerous.” Andrew squeezed his chin, then leaned in. “Get good on there,” he said, his voice now barely louder than a whisper, “and you can do virtually whatever you want, undetected. My understanding is that there’s a ninety-nine point nine per cent impossibility of catching someone perpetrating a crime while using an onion router, if the person navigating the dark domain knows their stuff.”
“That’s truly frightening,” I said. “Anyways, getting back to the game, I assume the house takes the brists and sells them on the black market.”
Andrew let go a belly laugh. “Black market? You’re putting me on, right? I haven’t heard anyone use that term in twenty years or more.”
“Yeah, of course,” I said, deciding to play it off. I’d had enough damage done to my ego for one day. “You know what I meant.”
Andrew continued, “From what I’ve heard, each round has an auction attached to it. Once a winner’s been declared, the round ends. Then they hold the online auction. Bidders pay a fee to take part before the auction begins. Ultimately, the highest bidder gets to decide how many brists he wants at his or her final bid price. If there are six brists, and he decides to take three, then the next highest bidder gets to buy as many of the remaining brists he wants at the high bidder’s price. And so on down the line until the entire collection of brists are spoken for.”
“Wow. That’s almost inconceivable,” I said.
“Totally. Oh, I forgot to mention this. Any individual who wants to take part in one of these auctions can do so. But, a sponsor from that particular round has first dibs on the ability to become a bidder. And each auction is limited to sixteen bidders. As a result, most outsiders get shut out of the bulk of Sixteen-Sixteen’s auctions.”
“Makes sense, I suppose. If you’re going to spend all that money sponsoring a player, I’m guessing you’re pretty interested in acquiring whatever the brist happens to be for that round.”
“Probably.”
I shook my head. “And you learned all about this game from these younger women you’ve been dating?”
“No, not all of it. It really intrigued me when I started hearing about it, so I did some digging on my own,” Andrew said. “You can learn a lot spending time in chat rooms.”
“On the dark web?” I asked.
Andrew shrugged and took a long sip from his pint glass. “Where else?”
Chapter 13
I couldn’t stop thinking about my morning at Cooper’s Beach as I traveled north, back to Bridgeport. Not only from the perspective of the Iacona case, but in terms of how crazy this world was becoming. It seemed to me—especially after being schooled by a 21-year-old girl, then Sarah’s younger brother Andrew—that technology was making it easier every day for the bad guys to get a huge leg up on us upholders of law and order.
It was unsettling.
And the cracks concerning my age weren’t helping matters in the least.
I got on the phone and placed a call to Detective James, hoping to develop a game plan for our interrogation of Anthony “Tonedeaf” Turner.
“Hey, Carter.”
“Howdy. Where we at with Cooper’s Beach PD? I’ve got some actionable scoop on Turner.”
“I’m afraid the news isn’t good,” James replied. “Turner somehow managed to have his high- priced lawyer standing right outside Cooper’s Beach police headquarters when the cruiser pulled up,” James said. “His hot shot attorney managed to get an arraignment scheduled for later this afternoon.”
“That’s unbelievable. It’s a Sunday. And a holiday weekend. How on earth did they find a magistrate willing to set bail today, of all days?”
“I don’t know, Carter. Just repeating what I’ve been told.”
I pushed with all my might against the steering wheel and pressed my back hard into the seatback, doing my best not to lose my temper. “They’re not going to let us anywhere near that scumbag, are they?”
“Not looking good,” James replied. “Guess Turner must be heavily connected, because it would take some pretty hefty financial backing to get someone with a rap sheet like his out on bail. He’s the flight risk of all flight risks.”
“You want to get together right now? Wouldn’t take long to bring you up to speed.”
“Might as well,” James said. “Meet you at your old office?”
I laughed. “Yeah, why not. I could use a coffee-and-pie pick-me-up right about now.”
* * *
James was already sitting in our unofficial booth as I entered The Hometown Diner. “Afternoon, Detective,” I said as I slid into my usual spot.
“Howdy, partner,” he said with a smile, reminding me I still had my cowboy duds on.
Our server came over and poured me a cup of coffee, then refilled James’s. “We’ve got coconut cream and lemon meringue today, Carter. Which would you like?” she asked.
“Go with the lemon, thanks,” I said as I pulled out my notebook and smiled at James.
“Before we discuss your new information, I need to know your thoughts on Iacona’s assistant manager, Courtney Briggs,” James said.
“I’ve never even spoken to the woman,” I replied. “In fact, other than seeing her briefly on the bank’s surveillance footage, I wouldn’t know her from a hole in the ground. Why?”
“She called the station and insisted on speaking to the chief. He heard her out then pawned her off on me. She claims Steele & Company terminated her employment after the robbery. She’s somehow convinced herself that the PD can help make her whole again.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Think I do?” James said. “Forget about Courtney Briggs. Spill it. Tell me what you found out about Turner.”
“Seems he’s been conducting illegal gaming on the dark web,” I said.
“Interesting.” James nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “I’ve been doing a fair amount of reading on that subject lately. It’s a topic that’s been showing up more and more on blogs and detective-oriented newsletters I follow.”
“Any of them mention the use of minors?”
“A few, unfortunately,” James replied. “Why? Is that what Turner is into?”
“Looks that way,” I said. “Ever hear of a game called Sixteen-Sixteen?”
James shook his head as our server delivered my pie. I found the page in my notebook and gave him the specifics between bites.
James looked completely flabbergasted as I wrapped up the last few details. “Has every other person on this planet gone completely insane?” he asked, elbows resting on the table while massaging his temples with his thumbs. “I hope they find another inhabitable planet in our solar system pretty soon, because I intend to be one of the first desperate earthlings to sign up.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” I said.
“Do we know how accurate this information is?” James asked. “How do we know Sixteen-Sixteen isn’t just some urban legend being perpetuated by a bunch of pot-smoking punks?”
“We don’t, but I can assure you … I intend to find out.”
“You intend to sponsor a kid?” James asked, wearing a grin.
“Yeah, sure, why not? I’ve got mountains of cash I don’t know what to do with. Might as well gamble it away on some underaged kid with poor decision-making skills.” I laughed. “The young girl I was talking to at the casino told me a kid she knows was one of the players in a beginner’s round. Said it took place roughly three months ago, and that the brist was a brand-new Porsche Carrera. How hard could it possibly be to track how many 2016 Carreras were stolen around the end of May, beginning of June?”
“Not hard at all,” James said. “I’ll head to the station and see what I can find. Good call, Carter. Nice work.”
“If you find out a number of Porsche thefts coincide with the
time frame of that Sixteen-Sixteen round, you could always bring the girl in for questioning. Might make sense to show her a photo of the Iacona kid, too. Who knows, maybe she had some kind of contact with him at the casino prior to his abduction.”
“Sounds good.” James headed off, leaving me to take care of the bill. As usual.
I sat back and thought about what I wanted to do with the rest of my day. Logic told me I should probably relax. This morning had been eventful enough. But Sarah was off spending the afternoon with her son, and my mind wasn’t about to let go of the strange pall this introduction to the dark web had cast upon the Iacona investigation.
Iacona. I wondered how he was doing. One way to find out. I pulled out my phone and tried his cell.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice. I pulled the phone away from my ear and checked the number. “Uh … Mrs. Iacona?”
“Yes. This is she.”
“Sorry, uh, this is Carter Peterson. I expected to hear Jay’s voice. You threw me off for a second.”
“Mr. Peterson. Good afternoon. I’m truly sorry about that. Poor Jay came home from his sit-down with you folks feeling a tad bit ill. He’s in the parlor lying down. I fetched his phone as soon as I heard it ring.”
“I see. I’m sorry to hear Jay is feeling under the weather. How are you getting on?” I asked.
Nothing but silence for a beat. “Oh, bless your kind heart for asking. Truth is, I’m feeling quite blue. Every second that ticks by without my Ryan home kills me a little more inside. In fact, I was just sitting here, contemplating whether or not it would be proper to ring you up, being that it’s a Sunday, and all.”
“Don’t ever hesitate to call if you feel the need,” I responded.
“Oh, Mr. Peterson, I can’t begin to tell you what a relief it is to hear you say that.” There was a long hesitation on the line. “Mr. Peterson, would it be too much to ask if I told you I felt the need to meet with you now? I have a strong desire to have a conversation with you and your lovely partner this afternoon.”
“I’d be happy to oblige. Sarah won’t be able to join us, but you’re more than welcome to come to our home. We have a section of it set up as an office for our business. I’ll text the address to your cell so you can plug it in to your GPS. That way you won’t have any trouble finding our place.”
“Oh, would you be so kind? I won’t keep you waiting,” she said. “I could come right away.”
“Fine,” I said. “See you shortly.”
I sat and wondered what she might have on her mind that was so urgent as I sent our street address along. Would she put me on the spot and ask if I thought her husband was having an affair? Was she going to fire us because we hadn’t done enough to end Ryan’s abduction?
I tossed a ten spot on the table and made my way out of the diner, bound for home.
Chapter 14
“Mrs. Iacona, please, come in,” I said, holding the screen door open for her. I noticed she wasn’t as fancied up as usual.
“I’m so sorry for the imposition, Mr. Peterson, but I really needed to speak to y’all. I fear I’ll simply lose my mind if I keep it inside one moment longer. And, please, as I said before, do call me Nelda.”
“Okay, Nelda. No imposition at all. Please, go ahead on in to my office,” I said as I motioned toward the doorway. “Can I offer you a beverage?”
“Oh, so nice of you to ask. I’m fine, thank you.”
“Have a seat,” I said, motioning toward the couch. I noticed her looking around as she sat.
“You and Sarah have a lovely home,” she remarked.
“Thank you,” I said, not sure if she was stalling, or if it was part of her southern upbringing.
“Mr. Peterson—”
“Please, you can call me Carter.”
“Oh, all right. Carter, may I speak openly with you?”
“By all means,” I said as I took a seat across from her.
“Bless your heart,” she said, then looked up toward the ceiling. “Well, my Jay … I just love him to pieces. Always have, since the day I laid eyes on him. And, I declare, in my heart of hearts, I believe he loves me, too.” She hesitated and hung her head. “I’m just going to come right out and say it, before my courage plum runs out.” She lifted her head and looked straight into my eyes. “Carter, my Jay is living in sin.”
I froze. What exactly did she mean by that? Was she referring to his infidelity? Or had he made some other major gaffe?
“Jay’s assistant manager, Courtney Briggs,” she said.
I found it odd that I was hearing Courtney Briggs’ name again, being that James had mentioned her less than a half hour prior. I reached back and pulled out my notebook, not only to jot down some notes, but also to buy a few seconds of stall time so I wouldn’t start asking the wrong questions.
I finished my note-taking then looked up. Tears were streaming down Nelda’s face. “Here, let me get you some tissues,” I said and headed out to the kitchen.
“Thank you kindly, Carter. Please forgive me,” Nelda said as I returned and handed her the box.
“No problem at all.” I sat quiet and still, waiting for her to pull herself together. I wondered if Iacona was screwing around on his wife with more than one woman. Or, maybe Nelda had figured out Jay was cheating, but had pinned the infidelity on the wrong woman.
Nelda took a deep breath and composed herself. “I sincerely hope you never have, and will never have to experience what it feels like to sit and watch someone fall out of love with you, Carter. Seems no matter how hard you try to mend fences, the only signal you get in return is that the damage has been done. And it burns. Excruciatingly so.”
I looked down at the floor and nodded. “I’m sorry you’re going through such a difficult time,” I said, not knowing how else to respond, and uncomfortable with the direction our conversation had taken.
“Thank you, Carter. You’re a good listener. And I’m done. No more crying and carrying on. I just needed to get that off my chest.”
“You’re welcome. Now, you mentioned your husband’s assistant manager, Courtney. What did you want to tell me?”
Nelda looked into my eyes for a few seconds, then looked away. “You know what? Over the past twenty-four hours I’d managed to convince myself Courtney Briggs was somehow involved in Ryan’s disappearance. But now, after sharing with you, I realize perhaps I felt that way because I resent Jay coveting this woman like he does. I declare, I feel a bit foolish. It’s embarrassing, really. Would you mind terribly, Carter, if we dropped it altogether?”
“Not a problem at all,” I said, relieved on the one hand, and confused on the other. I jotted down the words sin and covet in my notebook then slipped it back in my pocket. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” I asked.
Nelda pressed her fingers against her cheek and stared straight ahead at the empty wall, looking as though her mind was somewhere else. “No … I guess not,” she said.
“Well, rest assured we’re going to stay focused on bringing your son home,” I said.
“Bless your heart,” she replied in an odd tone, still not fully engaged in the discussion. “I pray they’re providing for Ryan at that place.”
Her statement caught my attention. “That place?” I repeated.
The expression on her face changed as she turned toward me, almost as if she’d just remembered I was still in the room. “Oh, you know what I meant,” she said while shaking her head. “Wherever those heathens are keeping my son … I just hope they’re feeding him.” She quickly averted her eyes when she saw the look on my face. She must have known I wasn’t convinced.
“Yes. I hope so, too,” I said.
Nelda quickly gathered her belongings and stood up. “Thank you again, Carter. I’ll see myself out,” she said. “Please tell Sarah I’m so sorry I missed her.” Her voice trailed off as she headed for the door.
Chapter 15
“Tell me about your day,” Sarah said as she dropped h
er bag onto the coffee table and plopped herself down next to me on the couch. “Did my brother end up going to the casino?”
“He did.”
“Well, don’t hold out on me,” Sarah said. “What was the outcome?”
“Oh, it was a pretty uneventful morning,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. “Let’s see. After I spoke with you, Turner harassed a twenty-one-year-old girl. She screamed. A group of bikers got in Turner’s face, and he stabbed one of them in the abdomen.”
“Whaaat? Sarah shot up off the couch and stood directly in front of me, glaring. “Carter Peterson. Are you messing with me right now?”
“Nope.”
“How close were you to all of this as it played out?” she asked, hands on her hips.
“Oh, I’d say about from here to the kitchen.”
“Oh. My. Goodness. And where was my brother during all this insanity?” she asked.
“He hadn’t arrived yet. He pulled up just before the cops showed.”
“So, they have Turner in lockup?”
“Nope. His lawyer was right there at the PD when they brought him in,” I told her. “They were able to get an arraignment. He’s already out.”
“No way! It’s Sunday. It’s … its Labor Day weekend, for crying out loud.”
“Yep. I’m aware. Oh, and you just missed Nelda Iacona. I called Jay to check on him. She answered the phone. Said she needed to talk then came over here. Told me Jay is living in sin because he covets his assistant manager, Courtney Briggs. Who, by the way, has been let go by Steele & Company.”
Sarah was speechless, so I proceeded to fill her in on all I’d learned about Sixteen-Sixteen, brists, the dark web, and the fact that while we’d been busy living our lives the world had gone stark-raving mad all around us.
Sarah stood there before me the entire time I was recapping the hours since I’d seen her last. Once I’d finished, she pivoted and collapsed back onto the couch, almost as if she’d lived my entire day in ten minutes.
