“This is the fifth night into a row that you’ve been at it. You look tired. You do still have a day job, remember.”

Catherine studied her, aware of the reservation in her tone. The concern was genuine; she could see it in her eyes. But Rebecca hadn’t touched her when she’d walked into the room, and although she sat within arm’s length now, the emotional distance between them seemed unbridgeable. Not for the first time, she wondered where Rebecca had been spending her nights. “I’m okay. Reading through these is a lot easier than doing an hour or two of therapy.”

Rebecca smiled wryly. “I can only imagine. How’s it going?”

“Surprisingly,” Catherine said, pushing back in the chair with a sigh, “not too bad. It occurred to me this morning while I was making rounds that we aren’t the only people profiling.”

Rebecca edged a hip onto the corner of the table, her expression interested. “What do you mean?”

“Well, thus far, Sloan and Jason have been concentrating on finding individuals who fit a certain profile. I’m sure that the computer wizards in the other room will be able to manipulate this information and eventually come up with something concrete. Still, they’ve amassed a tremendous amount of information which could take a long time to analyze.”

“Right,” Rebecca grimaced. “If I think about it too hard, it gives me a headache.”

“Actually, me too. I think I might be able to add another piece to the puzzle and speed up the process.”

“How?” Rebecca asked, crossing the room and testing the heat of the coffeepot with her palm. It was warm and the coffee smelled fresh. She lifted the pot and gestured in Catherine’s direction. “Want some?”

“Thanks, no,” Catherine replied with a shake of her head. “Anyhow, it occurred to me that if someone is making money, presumably a lot of money, producing and selling pornographic movies—as well as broadcasting live videos of child prostitution—they have to have an audience.”

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?” Rebecca said, moving back to Catherine side with her coffee in hand. “All of these dirt balls that Jason’s been communicating with are the audience members.”

“I’m not arguing that they are all purveyors of child pornography in one form or another. But only a select few — probably very few — would actually be in the position to subscribe to this live broadcast that Sloan’s so anxious to get a lead on.”

“Wait a minute,” Rebecca said, an edge of excitement in her voice. “It’s just like any television program — a target audience always has a particular profile. A particular demographic make-up. Is that what you mean?”

“Precisely,” Catherine stated emphatically. “That’s exactly what I mean. Obviously, the viewers are going to be men, probably between the ages of twenty-five and fifty. Secondly, they need expensive equipment and high-speed Internet access—that requires a certain income level.”

“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.