Theo and Jack exchanged glances. The same realization had hit them simultaneously: Charger was the safety valve – the person outside the extortion scheme who knew all the secrets and could tell all if the blackmailer turned up dead.
Jack said, "Was there something specific that Isaac wanted you to tell Theo if something happened to him after the escape?"
Charger nodded.
Theo said, "Why didn't you tell me when I was in the cell with you?"
"I didn't think you'd be leaving so soon. And to be honest, I was kind of hoping we'd get to like each other first."
"That ain't gonna happen," said Theo.
"I know. But give me a little credit. I'm sticking my neck out, and there's no Isaac, no Theo, no one at all on the inside to protect me."
"I'm sure we'll read all about it in the next edition of Profiles in Courage'' said Theo. "So let's hear it."
Charger smiled like a smart-ass, as if he was just now getting to the fun part. "Reality Bitches dot com," he said. "It's a website."
Theo said, "That's all you got? A website address?"
"Yup."
Again, Jack and Theo exchanged glances, both men reconsidering Charger's role as safety valve.
Jack said, "What's on this website?"
"I've never seen it," said Charger, his voice trailing off to a playful whisper. "But from the sound of it, I'd say it has something to do with Santa's naughty list."
Theo narrowed his eyes. "You better not be messin' with us."
"If anyone's messing with you, it ain't me. It's Isaac. Thanks for the gum," said Charger, winking at Jack. He pushed away from the table, walked to the door, and pressed the button on the wall. The door opened, and Charger told the guard he was ready to go.
"See you around, boys," he said on his way out. The door closed, leaving Theo alone withJack.
"You think he's for real?" said Theo.
"Let's visit that website and find out."
Jack removed his notebook computer from his briefcase and powered it up on the table. The jail made a high-speed wireless Internet connection available to attorneys, and Jack's Wi-Fi picked up the signal. Theo watched as he typed in the address. Even witha high-speed connection, it took a moment for the page to load. The banner emerged first- "Reality Bitches" in bold red letters. Below it were several boxes, empty at first, and then one by one, the images popped into place.
The first was the face of a pretty redhead who was maybe old enough to vote. A string of letters tumbled across the screen and then settled into place to spell "Party Bitch."
Then the second box developed, a brunette called "Head Bitch," followed by "Nasty Bitch," "Latina Bitch," and several others, until the final box emerged. This last image, however, was much slower to come into focus than the others. It also seemed to be a much lower resolution, a little grainy, the color and lighting of much lower quality.
She was "Reality Bitch."
Theo slapped the table and walked away. "Damn you, Isaac!" he said, kicking the wastebasket across the room.
"What is it?"
Theo turned and faced Jack, mad enough to put a fist through the wall. He needed to hit something – or someone.
"Theo, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said, trying to breathe in and out, the way Trina had taught him to get himself under control. "There's nothing wrong at all."
"Tell me," said Jack.
Theo walked back to the table, glanced one more time at the screen, and then looked at Jack. "That's her," he said. "That's my mother."
Chapter 37
Theo wasn't handling it well. Uncle Cy wasn't doing much better.
So Jack had to deal with it.
The old photograph of Theo's mother on the website was only the beginning. One click of the mouse set the image in motion, a stream of XXX video. Even if the woman hadn't been Theo's mother, Jack would have had a difficult time watching. He had his own theory as to why Isaac might have wanted Theo to see it, but he needed a professional's evaluation before talking it over again with Theo and his uncle.
At one o'clock he was in a conference room at the FBI's field office. Andie was seated across from him, and his open notebook computer lay on the table between them. Jack typed in the website address and hit enter.
The LCD screen blinked, the Reality Bitches homepage lit up – and Andie blinked too.
"You okay?" said Jack.
"Sorry," she said. "I'm trying to be professional, but the existential in me can't help but see the absurd side of surfing porn sites with you."
"This isn't pornography," said Jack. "It's obscenity."
"Oh, well, that makes me feel better already."
There was humor in what she was saying, but Jack knew she wasn't making light of the situation. Few law enforcement officers had witnessed the depravity Andie had as a criminal profiler and hostage negotiator, and everyone had his or her own way of staying sane.
She said, "Does Theo have any idea where this came from?"
"None"
"How about Uncle Cy?"
"He didn't want to see it any more than Theo did. I asked him if he knew of any hard-core porn films she might have made. He didn't. But he said it wouldn't come as a surprise to him."
"Can Theo put an approximate date on the photo?"
"It's hard to get him to take a really good look at it. But I can tell you that she was thirty-one years old when she died."
Andie studied the photograph on the screen. "She looks like a teenager here. Pretty girl."
"The image is pretty low resolution, so I'm sure that doesn't help."
"Our tech guys can improve that."
"Do the computer enhancements later," said Jack. "Right now, I just want you to watch this. Tell me if you have the same reaction I did."
"What was your take on it?"
"Watch first. I don't want to sway you."
"All right," she said, drawing a breath. "Let's see – no, wait. Tell me her name."
She had reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. Jack didn't pretend to know her every touch – they'd never more than kissed – but he knew instantly that this moment had nothing to do with him. It was between Andie and the woman on the screen – a real person, a human being, not just some pervert's five-minute fantasy in cyberspace.
"Portia," said Jack. "Her name was Portia Knight."
Andie let go of his wrist. "Okay. Let's see what we've got."
"It might be easier to see if we switched off the light."
Andie considered it, then leaned back and flipped the wall switch. The room went dark, and the glow of the screen that bathed them in strangely colored light only added to the eerie feeling of anticipation.
Jack clicked on the photograph with his mouse. The frozen image jerked into motion, and Portia came to life.
Theo's mother was in a dark room, her body illuminated only by the camera's harsh spotlight. The expression on her face could only be described as wary the nervous smile of a young woman who was beginning to realize that perhaps she was in over her head. Her hair was pulled back tightly making her face clearly visible.
"Theo got her eyes/' said Andie.
She was moving, and as the camera angle widened, it was clear that she was dancing. Her breasts were fully exposed, and she wore only a red thong, gold hoop earrings, and gold stiletto heels.
Andie said, "Can you turn up the volume?" There's no sound.
Even with no music, Portia's movement on-screen seemed smooth and rhythmic, as if Theo's appreciation for all things musical hadn't come entirely from his uncle. Behind her, in a ragged semicircle, a crowd of men stood and watched her dance, all of them smiling, most of them holding large plastic cups in one hand and a smoldering cigar in the other. With such bad lighting, and with the camera's focus entirely on the dancer, the spectators and background images were distorted and obscured.