“Probably single, or at least someone who has a large chunk of private time,” Rebecca interjected, a note of enthusiasm in her voice.

“So my theory,” Catherine continued, “is that there are probably a number of middlemen recruiting potential subscribers for this—broadcasting service—for want of a better word. And we should be able to identify them by the questions they’re asking.”

“So you’re looking for someone who is trying to find out if Jason—well, the Jason persona—is a single adult male with expendable income who might be interested in something more than still pics or cybersex.”

“You’ve got it. I’m looking for someone who appears to be profiling. What I’ve done is give Mitchell a list of hypothetical questions that these recruiters might ask so she can screen for them. Then we’ll pull the transcripts of anyone who hits fifty percent and, with luck, I can string all of that individual’s chats together and see if the whole picture fits.”

“I don’t know why Clark didn’t get you in on this from the beginning,” Rebecca said with a shake of her head.

A voice from the door responded, “Because we didn’t know what the hell we were doing. And if you repeat that, I’ll deny all knowledge.” Grinning, Sloan nodded to Rebecca as she made her way to the coffeepot. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” Rebecca glanced at the woman who entered behind Sloan. “Officer Mitchell. Putting in a little overtime?”

“No, ma’am. I’m here on my own time.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason?”

“Since Dr. Rawlings is here, I thought I could help out with logging identifiers and running probabilities. Seemed like the best use of resources.”

“It’s your dime, Mitchell.” But she made note of it. The kid was quality.

“Any luck with street Intel, Frye?” Sloan inquired.

“Maybe. I’ll know better in a couple of hours,” Rebecca responded as she glanced in Sloan’s direction, not noticing Mitchell’s body stiffen or her expression darken.

“Here’s something,” Catherine said almost to herself. Every eye in the room turned to her.

“What?” Sloan asked immediately.

Catherine pushed a sheet of paper into the center of the table. “Look at these. It’s segments of five chats with the same person over the course of the last ten days.”

All conversation stopped as they crowded around to read the annotated transcript.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

“SLOAN?” REBECCA QUERIED, glancing at the pages. “What’s the background here?”

“Let me see.” She read the notations from the log Mitchell had generated with her indexing program that were printed across the top of each sheet. “These are segments of conversations that took place in a private chat room reached by way of an open bulletin board. The main site is trafficked by kids and adults—no real way to tell anyone’s age because even when they say, it might not be true. Many pedophiles pretend to be teenagers until they have established a relationship with a kid, and even then, may never reveal their true age. At any rate, this site is known for lots of chat and a lot of invitations to go private for sex. The room where these transcripts are from is frequented exclusively by men who have a taste for young girls—eleven to fourteen mostly. Invite only. You have to be sponsored.”

“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.”

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. “He 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

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: <g> 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<g>

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

“And he’s mentioned watching a half dozen times,” Mitchell pointed out. “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,” the young officer 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. And these transcripts need to go into anything I take to the DA for a warrant.”

“Soliciting sex?” Sloan said, her surprise 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 though better of it. You didn’t get between a superior officer and an underling. 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 there were a dozen things a day that Frye never reported and would deny any knowledge of. But she appreciated her keeping her rookie on the straight path. “We’ll desist using her, Sergeant, if you think it’s a problem.”

“No,” Rebecca responded. “Go ahead as you’ve been. 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 were curious after their last exchange and asked about real life opportunities.”

“Can you stay for a while and monitor the chats in case we get a hit?” Sloan inquired of the psychiatrist.

“Certainly.”

“Good. I’ll advise Jason of the plan so he can start trawling 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 replied, an eyebrow arched 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. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I’ve missed you,” Rebecca confessed, feeling her entire body sway toward Catherine like a flower to sunlight. “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.

“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, looking 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.