In Pursuit of Justice (28 page)

Sloan pointed to the headers. “At any rate, this board is known for lots of chat and a lot of invitations to go private for sex. These transcripts are from a room frequented exclusively by men who have a taste for young girls—eleven to fourteen, mostly. Invite only. You have to be sponsored to get in it.”

“How did Jason get in, then?”

Sloan grinned, a predatory grin without a hint of humor. “We hacked in. Easy. Jason’s persona is BigMac10.”

“Creative,” Rebecca said wryly.

“These guys aren’t subtle.”

“What do you see, Catherine?”

“I’ve highlighted the text I believe represents the profiling questions.”

Transcript One – Excerpt

BigMac10: Hey, man. Saw you with KewlChic12 over on the main board. Did you score?

LongJohnXXX: Oh, yeah. Sweet

BigMac10: Wish I coulda been there

LongJohnXXX: Where were you? *Watching?*

BigMac10: LOL. Yeah. Until you went private

LongJohnXXX: *You get off on that?*

BigMac10: Watching?

LongJohnXXX: Yeah

BigMac10: Every chance I get

Transcript Two – Excerpt

LongJohnXXX: Back again, huh, buddy?

BigMac10: Can’t stay away. Such fine company

LongJohnXXX: *Still watching?*

BigMac10: Whenever I can

LongJohnXXX: *Got flash to trade?*

BigMac10: Stills don’t do it for me

LongJohnXXX: Know what you mean. I like ’em moving. You?

BigMac10: Moving and screaming. Oh yeah

“Jesus,” Rebecca murmured. “Jason is good.”

“Yeah,” Sloan said quietly. “And it doesn’t come easy.”

Rebecca glanced at her but said nothing. She understood standing up for your partner. She returned to reading.

Transcript Three – Excerpt

LongJohnXXX: Hey, BM10 – any action on the boards?

BigMac10: Just talk out there

LongJohnXXX: Kids stuff

BigMac10: Yeah

LongJohnXXX: How long you been lurking?

BigMac10: Few weeks here. Been around HotRods before that

LongJohnXXX: *You sharing the line?*

BigMac10: No – all mine. Home alone

Transcript Four – Excerpt

BigMac10: welcome

LongJohnXXX: Evening watchman

BigMac10: Not much to see here tonight

LongJohnXXX: Second hand pickings, huh?

BigMac10: Insufficient for a man of quality

LongJohnXXX: *Quality costs*

BigMac10: Not an object – for the right merchandise, I’ve got the green

LongJohnXXX: *You looking to buy?*

BigMac10: Maybe if the stuff is prime

“And then this from last night—early this morning, I should say,” Catherine remarked, pointing to the last entry.

Transcript Five - Excerpt

LongJohnXXX: Yo-BM10. You lurking?

BigMac10: here

LongJohnXXX: How’d you do?

BigMac10: How so?

LongJohnXXX: Don’t be a cock tease. HotChic13

BigMac10: Now who’s watching?

LongJohnXXX: yeah – so give

BigMac10: she blew me off

LongJohnXXX: Whoa – for real?

BigMac10: No, man – she went private then backed out. Left me high and hard

LongJohnXXX: Bummer. *No sure thing in cyberspace*

BigMac10: yeah – not like RL

LongJohnXXX: The *real thing* is sweet

BigMac10: But hard to come by

LongJohnXXX: depends on who you know

BigMac10: yeah – I’m available

“This guy has potential,” Sloan agreed. “He sounds like he’s getting ready to offer Jas—uh,
BigMac
something.”

“And look there,” Mitchell noted, pointing to the scripts, “he’s mentioned
watching
a half dozen times. Could be he’s brokering the real-time feeds.”

“There’s a problem,” Rebecca remarked with a frown.

“What?” Catherine asked in surprise. “Surely, it can’t be entrapment?”

“No—trouble for Jason.”

“You want to spell that out?” Sloan asked, her voice suddenly edged with flint.

Rebecca regarded Mitchell for a moment. Mitchell squared her shoulders, set her jaw, and stared back. Clearly, she was not going to leave until ordered.

“How many of Jason’s chats do we have recorded, Mitchell? Logged in somewhere.”

“All of them,” Mitchell replied immediately. That had been part of her assignment, and she was very thorough.

“That’s what I figured.” Rebecca rolled her shoulders, then faced Sloan, whose eyes had grown hard. “Jason could be in trouble if he’s been soliciting sex from minors on the Internet, even in the course of an investigation. Especially when these transcripts go into anything I take to the DA for a warrant.”

“Soliciting sex?” Sloan’s surprise was evident.

“The interaction mentioned here with HotChic13,” Rebecca clarified, waving the last page. “Is that recorded somewhere also?”

“Yep.” Sloan’s grin reappeared. “Every red hot word.”

“Well then—”

“Except,” Sloan added, “I’m HotChic13.”

Mitchell coughed. “Uh, and I’m PhillyFilly11—BigMac10’s other cybersex partner.”

Catherine laughed. Rebecca fixed Mitchell with a hard stare. “Redefining your assignment, Officer?”

“No, ma’am. Just…expanding it.”

Sloan looked for a moment as if she were going to come to Mitchell’s defense, then thought better of it. You didn’t get between a superior officer and a subordinate. Not and keep the superior officer as an ally, or a friend.

“Just remember you’re a cop, Mitchell. Accountability is part of the job.”

Sloan smothered a smile. She was willing to bet that there were a dozen things a day that Frye never reported and would deny any knowledge of. But she appreciated the detective keeping her rookie on the straight path. “We’ll cease using her, Sergeant, if you think it’s a problem.”

“No,” Rebecca responded. “Go ahead as you’ve been doing. But she doesn’t make contact with anyone else.”

“Roger,” Sloan said with a half-smile. “So,” she continued, turning to Catherine, “you think this LongJohn guy’s our best bet so far?”

“It certainly looks as if he’s pumping Jason for the right kinds of information.”

“Should we be a little more aggressive with him then?” Sloan asked. “Lead him a little?”

Catherine nodded thoughtfully. “Try to
run into
him tonight. I’d think it would be understandable if Ja—BigMac was curious after their last exchange and asked about real life opportunities. Shouldn’t run up any red flags.”

“Can you stay for a while and monitor the chats in case we get a hit?”

“Certainly.”

“Good. I’ll advise Jason of the plan so he can start trolling that board.” Sloan left with Mitchell close behind.

Catherine regarded Rebecca with a soft smile. “You like Mitchell, don’t you?”

“Why do you say that?” Rebecca arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“You’re hard on people you like.”

Rebecca winced. “On you, too?”

“No.” Catherine moved closer and rested her hand on Rebecca’s arm. God, it was good just to touch her. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I’ve missed you this week,” Rebecca confessed, feeling her entire body sway toward Catherine as if she’d been offered water in the desert. “Can I take you home later?” At Catherine’s look of hesitation, she added quickly, “I’ll just drive you home. I won’t stay or—”

“Oh, Rebecca,” Catherine said quietly, a too familiar note of sadness in her voice. “Don’t you know how much I’ve missed you, too? Do you think I don’t
want
you?”

“I just didn’t want you to think I meant…that all I wanted…” Rebecca swore sharply, then leaned the last few inches and kissed her gently. After a very long minute, she lifted her mouth away and murmured, “It’s not just about sex. That’s all I meant.”

“Are you going out tonight?” Catherine asked, stepping back so she could think clearly. It
wasn’t
all about sex, but the feel of her after days apart drove any semblance of reason from her mind.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I’ll be here.”

Rebecca waited across the street from the all-night Gateway Diner on the corner of 13th and Locust. The early September night was chilly, and she hunched her shoulders inside her worn leather jacket. Secluded in the shadows beneath the awning of a shoe repair store, she watched the parade going in and out through the revolving doors. Some were bar patrons who had left the neighborhood watering holes in search of something to eat before wending their way home; some were prostitutes of both genders taking a break from working the streets or just socializing with friends; and some were merely lonely people with nowhere else to be and no one waiting for them to be there. At 1:15, as Sandy’s message had said, the young blond approached, walking north on 13th and, a moment later, she joined Rebecca in the shadows.

“Hey,” Sandy said. Dressed in a short black leather skirt, open-toed high-heeled sandals, a pale scoop-neck top that outlined her high firm breasts, and a thin jacket that clearly wasn’t providing any warmth, she shivered visibly and wrapped her arms around herself as if to ward off the night.

“You’re gonna have to start covering up if you don’t want to freeze your assets off,” Rebecca remarked.

“If they can’t see it, they don’t buy it,” Sandy rejoined.

Rebecca glanced out into the street, knowing that the occupants of the cars slowly crawling by were cruising the sidewalks for hookers or hustlers, searching for a few minutes of company. “Did you ever think of getting into another line of work?”

“Yeah. Except no one seems to be hiring nuclear physicists at the moment. You know, space travel ain’t what it used to be.”

“There are programs available,” Rebecca said quietly. “Places you could get job training or—”

“Frye, if you keep on with this social-work talk you’re really gonna scare me. Now, do you want the information I’ve got for you, or not?” Sandy had no intention of discussing her choices with the tall blond cop. For one thing, it was none of her business. For another, the quiet concern in Frye’s voice bothered her, and she didn’t want to think about exactly why. When people cared about you, they ended up owning a little piece of you. She didn’t want anyone to have even the smallest hold on her. Because then she was vulnerable.

Rebecca blew out a breath and rolled her shoulders, wondering what the hell she was trying to do. Sandy had probably been a runaway, most likely running from abuse, like the majority of young kids on the streets.
Not all of them,
she reminded herself, thinking of Anthony DeCarlo’s teenage daughter, who had left home to punish her parents—an act of adolescent rebellion that had almost cost her life. But most of them arrived on buses or thumbed their way into the city, only to end up sleeping ten to a room and selling themselves in one way or another for a meal, or drugs, or merely some human connection.

Sandy had made a choice for survival, and she had used her wits and whatever else she had to make that happen. As far as Rebecca knew, the young woman wasn’t using drugs, and she wasn’t selling herself at truck stops or under bridges in the underbelly of the city. She had a decent apartment, and it looked as if she was eating well and taking care of herself. If she was using her body to make a life for herself, there were worse things she could’ve done. And no matter what she was doing, Sandy was a source of information and that was all.