“Because of the sex,” he said.
“Exactly. Beth called it the honey pot. The bear sticks its paw into the honey pot, and cannot pull it out. And that’s how the Cassandra videos were created.”
Fadi tore apart his roll and cleaned the bottom of his bowl. If Lancaster remembered correctly, Google had paid $1 billion to acquire BTTF. Fadi was one of those rare individuals who’d gotten rich but remained humble.
“You didn’t like it, did you?” Lancaster said.
“No, I didn’t. Making the Cassandra videos made me feel dirty. Then, a few days ago, Beth called me and said she thought she’d found the Dartmouth killers, and that the videos had helped draw them out. It made the whole thing seem worthwhile.”
“Beth’s niece has been stalked by men who think she’s the girl in the Cassandra videos,” he said. “Beth said there was a way to fix this. How?”
“Beth knew the Cassandra videos might be harmful,” Fadi said. “She asked me to create a final video that would repulse the perverts. She planned to release it when the sting was over. It was designed to make the perverts stop fantasizing about Cassandra.”
“Can I see it?”
“I really should ask Beth first.”
“I’m sure she’d say yes, don’t you think?”
“You’re probably right.”
Fadi took out a cell phone as thin as a playing card. He opened an app and hit a command, then turned the screen. The last installment of the Cassandra videos began to play. It had been shot in a hotel room with muted lighting. An age-regressed Beth lay naked in bed, talking to the camera. A naked Fadi entered the picture. He joined her and they began to kiss. Then Beth reached beneath a pillow and pulled out a pipe, which she began to beat him with. Each blow was accompanied by a loud cracking sound. Fadi jumped out of bed, fearful for his life. Beth followed him around the room and continued to inflict punishment. Bleeding from the mouth and nose, Fadi sank to the floor. The video ended with him begging for mercy.
“That’s brutal,” Lancaster said.
“It’s intended to be brutal,” Fadi said. “The other videos portray Cassandra as a victim. Here, she is clearly the aggressor. Beth showed it to the profilers at the FBI’s Behavioral Sciences unit. The profilers said that once the perverts watch it, they will never see Cassandra the same way again, and will stop fantasizing about her.”
“When are you going live with this?”
“As soon as Beth tells me to.”
“I hope your solution works. Nicki and her parents have been through hell because of those videos.”
“I know. Beth told me what happened.”
Fadi looked sad. He’d done something against his better judgment, and now appeared unhappy with his decision. Lancaster went to the cafeteria’s bakery section and bought a chocolate doughnut. He walked Fadi to the elevator and handed him the bag.
“Please give this to her.”
The elevator came, but Fadi did not board. His conscience was eating at him, the way it did to moral people. It was hard to do good, as he now painfully understood.
“I want to fix the harm I’ve caused,” he said. “How do I do that?”
That was a good question. It was true that time healed all wounds. But there would always be psychological scars. Whenever Nicki saw a strange man staring at her, she would be fearful. All the money in the world couldn’t fix that.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he said.
Chapter 43
The Devil You Know
The best thing about not being a cop was that the rules changed. As a private investigator, Lancaster didn’t have to concern himself with a suspect’s rights or the protections afforded him or her under the Constitution. Those things stopped mattering.
Leaving the hospital, he drove to a trendy eatery on Las Olas called YOLO, which stood for You Only Live Once. It was not the kind of place where he usually hung out, and he didn’t expect to run into anyone he knew. The lunch crowd had thinned out, and he found a parking space on a side street and called the sheriff’s office main switchboard. He asked to speak to Detective Vargas and was patched through to voice mail.
“Good afternoon, Detective Vargas. This is your old pal Jon Lancaster,” he said. “I hear you’ve been going around town saying nasty things about me. Well, I’m going to pay you back for your trouble. You and your asshole partner are in a world of trouble. I’m talking prison, loss of pension, and having your bank accounts seized. If you’d like to hear more, meet me at YOLO. I’ll be at the bar.”
He was into his second beer when Vargas came in. She was breathing hard and had worked up a real sweat. She refused to sit down. He settled his tab and picked up his beer. They walked to the back of the dining room and took a booth.
“Where’s your ugly partner?” he asked.
“Booking a suspect,” Vargas said. “I was at my desk typing up an arrest report when your call came in. I didn’t like the sound of it, so I dropped what I was doing and came over. What the fuck are you talking about?”
Vargas was playing dumb, wanting to see how much he actually knew. A waitress pretty enough to model materialized at their table.
“You want a drink?” he asked.
“Can’t, I’m working,” she said.
“You’re going to want a drink after you hear what I have to say.”
Vargas waved the waitress away. “Spit it out, Jon. The less time I have to spend in your company, the better.”
There was no love lost between them, and he decided to let her have both barrels.
“The FBI is onto you,” he said.
The corner of her mouth twitched.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“Let me refresh your memory. The FBI knows that a police dog trainer is stealing blow out of the stockade in his cowboy boots, and that he’s passing it on to detectives with the department who are moving it for him. The FBI also knows that you and your partner are strong-arming strippers into moving it for you. Is this ringing any bells?”
Vargas looked like she might puke. She got the waitress’s attention.
“A shot of Jameson and a beer chaser,” she said.
They shared a long, uncomfortable silence. Her drink came. Vargas belted the whiskey back and chased it down. It brought the color back to her face and helped her regain her composure.
“How did you find out?” she asked.
“That’s none of your god damn business,” he said. “What’s important is that I know, and I can help you.”
“You can make this go away?”
“I didn’t say that. There’s going to be a bust, and it will be ugly. What I can do is protect you and your partner. You won’t go down with the rest of them.”
“But the others will take the fall.”
“That’s right.”
“They might think we ratted them out.”
“Who cares? They’ll be in prison, and you won’t.”
Vargas was having a hard time dealing with the reality of what he was saying. Most criminals accepted that they might get caught and face prison. Vargas hadn’t considered this, and it was turning her inside out. She flagged the waitress and ordered another whiskey.
“What do you want in return?” she asked.
“There’s a guy named Zack Kenny I want you to bust. He has a library of kiddie porn stored on his iPad in the study of his condo. I’ll give you the address.”
“That’s it?”
“He needs to go down hard. You can’t screw it up.”