Every Breath You Take

by Jay Zendrowski

  *

  They hadn't been at their various tasks very long before Chin spoke up. "I just checked the DMV records on Drummond. Guess what he drives?" The others turned in her direction, waiting expectantly. "The professor is the proud owner of a two-year old Honda Civic." She turned towards Pepper and Wallace. "Four-door, silver."

  Pepper and Wallace exchanged glances. "Chin, can you print off a couple of pictures of that car? See if you can get one from the side-or even better-one from an angle as if you were walking up to the car from the back corner."

  "Got it."

  "Looks like we'll by paying another visit to Rico today," Wallace said as he turned back to the cryptic series of numbers on the note before him.

  Pepper did a search for the website Bartolucci had told them about-the website where he'd first come in contact with The Sandman. After typing 'Don't Fear the Reaper' into Google, it didn't take long for Pepper to be bombarded with sites and links that dealt with the original song by Blue Oyster Cult. Realizing his mistake, he typed the actual site URL that Rico had given them into his system and hit ENTER. It took him right to the site. The cover shot had pictures of men in leather masks standing next to women strapped to things that looked like medieval racks, their mouths gagged. The site had the required warnings stating that it contained adult content and all models were over 18 years of age. He had to hit the button indicating he was of age in order to proceed. He wondered how difficult it would be for anyone underage to hit that same button and continue-realizing it was like dangling candy in front of a little kid-only this time, the candy was something very real.

  The next page was loaded with teasers, giving sample pictures of what they had to offer and the different sections that members could use: GALLERY, FORUM, EQUIPMENT, EROTIC STORIES, SALES, etc. Pepper found that to proceed much further, he was required to sign up as a paid member. The Inspector had already given them approval to do this, if necessary.

  "Hey Rupe," Pepper said, looking across at his partner, who was busy scrutinizing the coded numbers listed on the original message sheet. "I'm on that rape website Rico told us about. In order to continue, I've got to join and sign in. For this kind of site, what kind of handle do you think I should choose? I'm thinking about 'Cop-hater'."

  "Naw, too obvious," Wallace replied, shaking his head. He twisted his lips around pensively as he thought about it, and then his eyes sparkled. "I know, how about 'Frank Booth'?"

  "Perfect," Pepper replied, knowing they couldn't have done any better than choosing the name of the sick character played by Dennis Hopper in the movie Blue Velvet. He clicked on the JOIN button and selected a 3-month membership, charging it to an encrypted credit card account the department had. He got a bounce-back message right away that his membership had been processed, and he was free to login and continue with his new handle and the temporary password they issued him in that message. He did so, and started viewing the pages available to paid members only.

  "Jesus Christ," Pepper muttered to himself as he perused the shocking bizarreness of the site. Loaded with pictures that people had posted, it blatantly showed, and gave specific instructions on, the act of rape. There was even a section where people advertised to meet other members from the site, and he was shocked at the number of women who appeared to want to be part of that type of scenario. He prayed that their intention was just to partake in some role playing-the idea of anything more realistic than that was too shocking to even think about. It only verified his opinion that the internet was both amazing, and absolutely frightening at the same time. There was even a section on the correct method of tying various types of knots, with artistic depictions showing pieces of rope being wound, circled through one loop after another, whatever you'd need to make the perfect knot. Pepper wondered how many boy scouts used the website in order to pass the test to get this week's badge-not many, he hoped.

  He found the 'Forum' section that Bartolucci had talked about, and he scanned through older posts, trying to find something posted by either The Sandman, or by The Hulkster, the online handle Rico had told them he went by. He scanned a few of the posts quickly, skimming over what some of the people had to say. It was mostly stuff like people saying what they liked; one guy saying how he liked to see them struggle against their binds, while another talked about how much he liked to see the fear in their eyes as he ripped their clothes off. One was even posted by a woman-or more likely just some guy posing as a woman-saying how much she liked to be her abductor's slave, knowing she deserved to be punished.

  Pepper found himself giving his head a shake a number of times before he finally found one from early in the fall posted by The Sandman. The time frame matched Bartolucci's confession of when he'd first encountered the Sandman's post. Pepper leaned close when he spotted The Sandman's name, and then he clicked on it, bringing it front and centre on his screen.

  The Sandman: I love when they can't move an inch, yet they are totally aware of everything that is going on. They may want to push us away, not even realizing we are who they really need. That's why they must be taken, to show them the truth, to show them they are really ours. The drugs are what does it-but they deserve it. It allows us to possess them, to make them our living dolls, and we can do whatever we want with them. The good stuff will last a long time in their veins, but that look in their eyes as you take them is worth every penny. They will shed their tears, but those tears will cleanse them as we make them dirty again and again. "Touch me, baby, tainted love."

  Pepper re-read the post a second time and then sat back, a shiver running down his spine, knowing this was the kind of hell Yvonne Redmond had gone through. "Hey guys, come over here," he said, motioning the other team members to his desk.

  "What've you got, Tee?" Harris asked as they gathered around him.

  Pepper filled them in on what he'd found on the website, going over the path that had led him to the Forum section. He told them again about what Bartolucci had said, that he'd first contacted The Sandman in the fall after seeing one of his posts. "I'm pretty sure this is it," Pepper said, clicking on the posting to make it full screen again. The others moved closer, Pepper remaining silent as they read over his shoulder.

  "Fuck me," McTavish muttered under his breath.

  "Oh my God," Chin added, "if this is really our guy, we're in trouble."

  "Yeah, it doesn't sound like this is the kind of guy who is gonna stop after one," DiCicco said.

  "Tee, you've got to respond," Johannson said, gesturing to the computer screen.

  "What?"

  "You've got to reply to this message-like you said that Bartolucci kid did. Maybe we can get lucky and start some kind of dialogue with this guy-see where it goes. It would be nice if we could draw him out."

  "That last line in quotes is another one of those song lyrics, isn't it?" Chin asked.

  "Yes, that's from 'Tainted Love', by Soft Cell. It fits in with the same profile as the Poison Arrow lyrics." Wallace said. "When I saw those lyrics in that note on the Redmond girl, I thought it might have been someone targeting me and Pepper, but this line in that posting was written months ago, before we were even involved in the case."

  As Wallace finished talking, Rob Sinclair from the IT department walked in, a computer under one arm, a cell phone in the other hand. He was a big heavyset guy with a round florid face, like Charlie Brown flushing in the presence of the Little Red-Haired Girl. He was known around the station as 'Round-head Rob'.

  "Rob, I hope you have good news for us," Pepper said as the big guy set the computer and phone down on Wallace's desk.

  Rob stood back and set his feet about shoulder-width apart, and then crossed his arms over his chest, like a coach about to address the team before a big game. He shook his head briskly back and forth. "Sorry, Rupe, no good news. We tried everything, but no dice."

  "You couldn't trace anything at all?"

  "Nope. The email addresses your guy used with that kid were encrypted to the max. I was re-routing connection
s through The Netherlands, South Africa, and even through Cambodia of all places. No, that guy knew what he was doing. And that fetish website you gave me, there's no way to get anything through their forum postings either. That's typical of those sites. If they couldn't protect their members, nobody would be on them."

  "What about the cell number Bartolucci said he texted the guy on?" Pepper asked.

  Rob jabbed his finger out as he pointed to the cell phone on Wallace's desk. "Nothing there either. The guy was using a burner phone. He picks up a phone that's good for a certain number of minutes, and then just tosses it when he's done and moves on to another one. No way to trace anything there either." He paused as the detectives seemed to heave a collective sigh. "Sorry guys. I know that's not what you wanted to hear, but that's the way it is."

  "Thanks, Rob, we appreciate it," Pepper said, nodding.

  "All right. Good luck with the case. Give us a call if you need anything else." He uncrossed his arms and walked away, moving like a gorilla on patrol as he lumbered out of the squad room.

  "Well, that sucks," Wallace said as they watched Rob's broad back squeeze through the door.

  "We should have known our guy was too slick not to leave anything like that to chance," Chin added.

  "Yeah, somebody who took that much care with the way he placed that body, and what he did to it, I would have been surprised if we'd been able to trace him," McTavish said. "This guy obviously knows a thing or two about covering his tracks."

  "Well, like Katrina said, that just makes it more important that we try to draw him out by using that website," Pepper said.

  "That's got to be our best shot at this point," Johannson said.

  "Great." McTavish nodded towards Wallace and Pepper. "We'll leave it to you guys to figure out what you're gonna say. Good luck with that. Right now, I'm looking into Drummond's history." He returned to his desk, Chin right behind him as the other team members returned to their desks.

  "Okay, Rupe, I've got to come up with a good message. What should I say to this Sandman guy?" Pepper said.

  "It's gotta be something that will flatter him, make him think you envy him, or want to be like him. I imagine that's what Bartolucci did, without even realizing it." Wallace paused as Pepper nodded. "Just give it some thought, write down a few things-you don't have to get it perfect the first time."

  "Okay, I'll see what I can come up with."

  "I want to get back to try and figure out these numbers." Wallace dropped his gaze to the note on his desk, his eyes shifting back and forth along the series of coded numbers.

  Pepper re-read The Sandman's message a couple more times, trying to get inside the sick bastard's head. Some ideas came to mind, and he started writing a few things down in draft form.

  "Hey, I think I've got something," Wallace burst out, his pen flying now as he looked back and forth between the list of paired numbers and the original message with the Poison Arrow song lyrics above.

  "With those numbers?" Chin asked as she and McTavish got up from their desks and walked over.

  "Yeah, take a look at this," Wallace said, pushing the message and the paper he'd been working on over to the side so they could all see. "I have the feeling this is going to work." They looked down at a bunch of random letters scrawled on the page.

  "What the hell is that?" McTavish said.

  "Okay, let me explain." Pepper could see how excited Wallace was, his partner barely able to contain himself. He reminded Pepper of a kid waiting for his dose of Ritalin. "Take a look at all these paired numbers." He pointed to the list at the bottom of the original message, each pair of numbers separated from each other by a hyphen. "Notice that in each pair of numbers, the first number is never greater than six."

  "So, what's that mean?" Chin asked.

  "Now look at the original message above. How many lines of text are there?"

  "Six."

  "Exactly. I think this coded message is such that in the linked pairs, the first number refers to the line of text, and the second number relates to the place in that line that is represented by a letter." Chin still looked somewhat perplexed. "So take a look at the first set of numbers," Wallace continued, pointing at the first linked pair with the tip of his pen. "The first one is 2-8, so I go to the second line of the song lyrics, and then over until I find the eighth letter in that line, which is an 'O'." He pointed to the first in the line of letters he'd written down. "And then so on until I'd used up each of the pairs of numbers."

  The three of them looked down at the list he'd written: O,L,I,H,R,U,W,L,U,Y,I,T.

  "It almost looks like letters you would draw in Scrabble," Pepper said, gazing down at the incomprehensible combination of letters.

  "Exactly," Wallace said, his eyes flicking back and forth over the letters. "I think it's like that word puzzle they put in the paper everyday-The Jumble, they call it. They give you mixed up letters and you have to figure out the correct word."

  "That's one big-assed word," Chin said.

  "It could be more than one word," McTavish said. "In that Jumble thing in the paper, they give you some clues with a picture, and then there's usually a small phrase you have to solve at the end. Maybe this is something like that."

  "It could be either, but I think this is what those numbers mean," Wallace said. "I tried some other ways of deciphering it, but nothing seemed to work. I think this is it."

  "Rupe, can you make copies of your list for all of us to work on?" McTavish said. "With all of us working on it, we should be able to come up with something."

  "Right. Good idea," Wallace said as he tore the top sheet off his pad and strode over to the photocopier. He ran off copies and handed them to the others, including the new team members. Chin and McTavish went back to their desks, pulling out their own pens and getting to work.

  "I've got 'truly who' so far," said McTavish a couple of minutes later. "But then I'm stuck on the rest."

  "Keep at it," Pepper said, his own pen scribbling away with possibilities.

  Less than five minutes later, Wallace slammed his pen down on his desk, the others turning towards him. He looked up. "I've got it."

  The others came around the side of his desk as he slid his pad of paper towards them. Beneath some scribbled attempts with lines drawn through them, he'd written out the solution: I WILL HURT YOU.

  "That works? It uses all of the letters?" Wilson asked.

  "Yes. I started with 'truly' as well, just like Ian. But then the word 'hurt' popped into my head as I looked at it again. The others fell into place after that."

  "I will hurt you," Chin read aloud.

  "Who do you think he means by 'you'?" McTavish said. "Does it mean the Redmond girl? That wouldn't make any sense-he'd already killed her by the time he stuck that message in her mouth."

  "Yeah, what does he mean by that?" Chin added, her brows knitted. "Is it directed towards whoever found her? Like us-you know-the cops-or maybe somebody specific?"

  "It could be just anybody in general," Pepper said. "Like maybe all of the female population-I WILL HURT YOU-meaning he'll hurt any woman he wants to take. Or it could be to just anybody this guy takes a dislike to-male or female. You could read it so many ways-it's really hard to tell for sure."

  "It must mean something," Wallace piped in, "or he wouldn't have left it. It doesn't give us a lot to go on, but it's more than we had ten minutes ago."

  "That's a start. Nice find, Rupe," Pepper said, the group of them staring down at the words Wallace had written, hoping for some ray of enlightenment. It only took a second or two for them to realize the hand of God wasn't going to come down and point out the answer to them-that never happened in police work.

  "Well, it gives us something to mull over," McTavish said, gesturing back towards his desk. "I'm going back to find out more about the professor-his time at the University of Toronto seems a bit unclear."

  "What do you mean?" DiCicco said.

  "Just give me a few more minutes. I want to search a few
more things yet, maybe make a few phone calls."

  The group returned to their desks, the team buoyed by Wallace's solution to the clue riddle. Wallace himself was glad to have solved it, but was frustrated that the wording still left them as confused as a blind man at a four-way stop.

  "I definitely think he's trying to tell us something," Wallace said as he looked across the desk at Pepper and pointed to the words on the pad of paper in front of him.

  "Yeah, but what? That's the question."

  "I'm worried there's going to be more?"

  "My thoughts exactly." Pepper paused as they both thought about what that might mean. He had visions of blonde girls standing side by side, their eyes wide with terror but unable to move as arrows flew through the air towards them, like some horrid archery contest.

  "We need to find this Sandman guy, Tee," Wallace said quietly, as if reading Pepper's mind. "Let's get to work on that message we're going to send him."

  The two of them worked together while McTavish was busy on the phone and Chin worked at her computer. A short time later, McTavish hung up the phone and turned to the group.

  "Everybody at U. of T. is being tight-lipped about Professor Robert Drummond," McTavish said, looking at the notes he'd jotted down. "He was a member of the faculty there for six years before leaving to come to Western. It seems his departure was under somewhat questionable circumstances. I've talked to a number of people in the sociology department, and it's almost as if they've been given the same script to answer from when it comes to questions about Drummond."

  "So what's that all about?" Pepper said.

  "Well, nobody is really coming right out and saying it, but I get the distinct impression that Drummond was almost asked to leave-as if he had to make a choice-leave and go quietly, or get fired."

  "Is anybody saying what the circumstances were behind that?"

  "They're saying very little. When I asked if there were any specific concerns about the professor's conduct, a couple of them paused for a long time before answering, and I swear I could hear the gears going around in their heads right through the phone."

  "But nobody said anything to confirm that there was a problem?"

  "Nope. They're all sticking to the party line-the professor left of his own volition, and the university wished him well in his future academic career. But of all those people I talked to-I never got the impression from any one of them that they were sorry to see him go."

  "Hmm, interesting," Pepper said.

  "Have you guys got that message you're going to post sorted out?" Chin asked, looking over Pepper's shoulder at his computer screen.

  "Yes. This is what we came up with."

  Chin read aloud.

  Sandman, I loved your message. I hate the struggle, the violence, but I love having them just like you-awake, but unable to move. I love to see their eyes, just like you said, that's the best part for me, seeing that look of terror. I've used some various drugs to keep them that way, but most of them never work for as long as I'd like. Can you tell me what you use and how long it works? I'd love to get my hands on some of the 'good stuff' as you call it. Looking forward to hearing from you, maybe we could be good neighbours??Frank Booth

  "Good, eh?" Wallace grinned, looking up at Chin.

  "You think that's good?" McTavish scoffed after hearing the message. "What if he doesn't know anything about Blue Velvet? Or who Frank Booth is? Maybe this guy isn't as lame as you two and won't know what the hell you're talking about. Good neighbours? Christ!"

  "Fuck you, McTavish." Wallace eyed him indignantly. "If nothing else, we might some kind of response. You got any better ideas?" he shot back, standing up abruptly.

  "I've got my own leads to follow up on, Wallace. You and Pepper send your lame-ass message," he said, stalking off.

  "What an asshole," Pepper said, hitting the send button. Pepper looked at the screen, hoping it was already in The Sandman's mailbox, and as Frank Booth would say, waiting for him like a love letter from a gun.