“Most people don’t know a lot about it. The Dark Web is just a small part of the Deep Web, that part of the Internet that includes email accounts and bank records. Only the Dark Web is different. You access it using a software that makes you anonymous by disguising your computer’s IP address. Then visitors can participate in illegal activities without being tracked. Drugs, weapons, assassins…”
“Porn?”
This time, he turned to face her. “That and human trafficking. Those two things are almost always linked.”
“Do you think our victims visited sites on the Dark Web?”
“Probably not. It requires too much computer know-how since the sites aren’t indexed. It’s more difficult to do a search there.” He closed the screen and held his hands wide. “But the suspect might hang out on the Dark Web as well as chat rooms in the Surface Web.”
“Then it makes sense to look both places.”
“Particularly now that he’s had a taste of murder. His cooling-off period between the two girls and his next victim might be decreased. If this is even his first time.”
Was he watching her because he was discussing the possibility that they were dealing with a serial killer when he’d criticized her earlier for jumping to that same conclusion? Or did he expect her to race out the door after the details he’d shared with her? He put his headset around his neck, handed her a second one and pointed to the microphone.
“Ready?”
She straightened in the chair. “We’re going to record stuff right here?”
“Why? Can’t turn on your charm with an audience present? Hate to tell you this, Trooper, but we can’t provide you with a private sound booth.”
The patronizing way he said trooper made pinpricks form on the back of her neck. He might as well have said sweetheart, and she was not okay with that.
“Hello,” she said into the microphone.
“Don’t say it like you’re about to try to sell him a houseful of vinyl windows.”
“Give me a minute. I haven’t done this before.”
“No kidding. And you thought you were going to do all of this live.”
Her glare wasn’t as effective as it would have been if he’d looked at her.
“By the time you have a voice conversation with a suspect, you won’t be strangers, at least in that world. You’ll even tell him your real name is Mackenzie. But if you don’t think you can do it, I’ll be happy to approach Special Agent Dawson and tell him his idea is a bust.”
“Not necessary,” she ground out.
It didn’t matter that Kelly was so far out of her comfort zone. This jerk had underestimated her, and he should know it. She wouldn’t allow him to make her forget why she was there, either. She’d come to track a killer, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. She gripped the microphone and pushed the button to speak.
“Hi there.” That voice didn’t even sound like her. So smooth. A sexy laugh formed with words. “I’m so glad we finally get to speak to each other. I’ve wondered what your voice would sound like.”
She released the button and, as she pulled her hand away, she peeked over to catch him watching her. He quickly turned back to his computer screen.
“How was that?”
He cleared his throat but didn’t look her way. “Fine.”
“Good. What else do you need me to say?”
“How about I just ask you some questions, and you answer them the way you would’ve at about thirteen?”
“You mean with a giggle and maybe a snort?”
“You snort?”
“Not anymore. Well, not much.”
He gave her a few more phrases to record.
“Hey, gotta go. My mom’s coming upstairs,” Kelly said, recording the last. In her own headset, the words sounded exactly like teenage Kelly would have spoken them.
“Okay, we’re done.” Tony cleared his throat again. “Good job on those.”
“You don’t need anything else?”
He shook his head.
She stood and pushed the chair to the open spot in the corner of the cubicle and grabbed her binder. She opened the book to the page she’d been reading before he’d interrupted her: an open case involving a missing teenage boy.
“Just staring at those photos isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
“You don’t think familiarizing myself with these other cases can help? I have fresh eyes. Maybe I’ll see something that others have missed.” She gestured toward his laptop. “Anyway, how are you so sure that whatever you do on that computer will help more?”
She braced herself for his hot retort. He hadn’t disappointed her all morning. When he didn’t answer, she lifted her gaze to find him staring, not at her but at that straight line of photos on his bulletin board.
“Looks like you have some pictures of your own. Are those some of the people you’ve helped? Do you look at them when you need a pick-me-up?”
“No.”
At the low tone of his voice, she regretted asking. Something told her that Special Agent Lazzaro was the type of guy who recorded his defeats. Not his victories.
“You don’t have to answer,” she rushed to say.
But he appeared lost in the photos and the stories that must have clung to them. When he finally turned back to her, his eyes were suspiciously shiny. He quickly lowered his gaze to his desk.
“Those are the ones we didn’t help. They’re there to remind me just what is at stake.”
Cory Fox gripped the video game controller with both hands as he navigated the danger-filled path on his computer screen to save Princess Amelia from the evil dragon. Usually, he would have scaled those walls and leaped the obstacles with ease in his new favorite game, Rescuing the Royals. Not so much this morning. He’d already fallen through the earth twice, and he hadn’t even made it close enough to the dragon to try out his superpower lightning flashes.
He was never going to get out of Level 26.
Cory rested the controller on the desktop as he dragged his feet off the desk. He was just too distracted to play. He had to do something to fill the time, though. His four-hour shift at the grocery store wasn’t until after lunch, and he was already too hyped up to sit still.
On his desktop, he clicked open a folder he’d placed there a week before, and a list of links appeared on the screen. He clicked on the first.
Bodies of 2 local teens discovered
His stomach roiled as it did each time he read the articles. If only he could stop looking at them. Or thinking about it. Or remembering.
He set his elbows on the desk and lowered his head into the cradle of his hands. Even with his eyes closed, he could still see it. Blood made him queasy, and there’d been so much of it. He hadn’t even been able to drag them far from the bike path where they’d met, so their bodies were discovered the next morning. He’d only brought that pocketknife in case she needed convincing to get in the van with him.
“Why did you have to lie?”
He automatically looked over