“We’re getting locations pinpointed. Problem with the shit on the dark web is signals are jammed and ping-ponged all over the place. Every time we get a lock, it comes up empty.”
“Okay. Where do you want us?” Cathy asks, ever the diligent team player.
“Connor and Simon can show you the rest of the files we have. We didn’t send everything over to your office, so you’ll need to catch up. I’m going to check in with the computer geeks—see if they have anything for us yet.”
“Here’s everything.” Connor sweeps his hand over three boxes on the tables as Pierce leaves the room.
“How long has this case been going?” Cathy asks, lifting the lid off the first box.
“Abigail is the sixth girl,” Simon answers, rolling his neck to the side.
“And none of them have been found?” I ask.
“They disappear from the site eventually, but no, no bodies yet,” Connor says.
“Six kidnapping cases? Why haven’t the feds been called in?” I look between the two of them. The blasé approach they’re taking to the details makes me think they’re burnt out. Seems like they’d want the case thrown over to the bureau.
“We don’t know they’ve been abducted.” Connor’s tone is hard, defensive. “Far as we know, they ran away from home and found work the only way they could. On their backs.”
My distaste for Connor immediately ramps up to the red zone.
“The other girls, they haven’t popped up anywhere else. Once these sick assholes are done playing with them, they’re getting rid of them. This girl is the latest. If we can find her before they tire of her—great. Otherwise, we’ll be starting all over with the next girl.” Simon steps closer to Connor.
“All the girls have missing persons reports I assume?” Cathy asks.
“It’s all in the case files.” Connor pats my shoulder. “I’m getting some breakfast, be back in an hour or so.” He jerks his head toward Simon, and they both head out.
I raise my brow at Cathy. “Think they even give a shit about these girls?” I ask her.
Her lips press into a thin line. “Well, if they don’t. We do. Let’s do our job.” She pulls out several file folders and spreads them out in front of her.
“You know Richards only sent us here to get rid of us.”
“Probably.” She shakes out of her navy blazer and hangs it off the back of her chair. Her hair is wound tight into a bun at the base of her neck. She’s all business, all the time. “But I’m not giving him the satisfaction just yet.”
“Hand me a box.” I drop into a chair. Who knows, maybe we’ll actually make a difference.
We’ve poured over every file and report and have no more information than when we started. The girls just vanished. No witnesses, no ransom demands—not that I expected any. The girls just poofed into thin air.
The ones who stopped streaming on Dolls for Hire can be counted out as dead. On that, Cathy and I agree. A body might spring up sometime in the future, but until then, there’s no point chasing our tails. But Abigail is still playing online.
There’s still time for her.
Freeze frames from sessions show horrific conditions. The guys in the computer lab have been able to download the transcripts from the chats. Men pay top dollar to see her punished, raped, beaten, and strung up for their viewing pleasure. Even if we find her, there isn’t going to be much of her left. Her eyes are vacant in the latest photos.
“A girl like this, young, has a career ahead of her—she goes missing and no one questions it?” Cathy tosses a folder onto the table. It’s well past five o’clock, and the others have gone home for the night.
“Her parents filed the report,” I remind her.
Her lips scrunch up. “They filed the report after a week. She was supposed to meet them for dinner, never showed, then waited a week to report her missing.”
“Maybe they weren’t worried. Adult daughters, they have lives of their own.”
She settles a death glare on me. “You want to get on my ass about Sarah now?”
“I’m just saying. You’ve gone a week without hearing from her and you didn’t call the cops,” I point out, tossing the last file back into the box. My eyes burn from the images. I’ll never be able to scrub it all out of my brain.
“If Sarah was supposed to show up to meet me and didn’t, I’d go find her. I wouldn’t wait a week to hear from her.” Cathy plops down in the chair and stretches her arms over her head. The day has been exhausting. And pointless. None of this is going to help us find Abigail or the assholes running Dolls for Hire.
“Hey, good, someone’s still here.” Todd from the tech department walks into the room, a tablet in his hands. “They’re streaming again.” He places the tablet on the table in front of us, hits the screen, and the video comes to life.
“It’s Abigail,” Cathy says, concern weighing in her tone. “What’s that?” She points to the screen.
“That’s the chat. Right now, it’s just people logging in. I got into the site and set up a notification to ping me when a new session starts.”
“Pierce didn’t mention that.” I stare at the screen, bracing myself for what’s coming. Abigail’s been painted again, lips rose red, bright pink blush on her cheeks, heavy eyelashes glued to eyelids. Her dress is clean, white lace, and pink ribbons that match the grossly large bow on top her head adorn her hair. Her eyes move from side to side while she remains statuesque.
Todd points to the screen. The chat room is getting lively. “They’re putting in bids. Once the head guy calls the highest bidder’s handle, whatever that person wants to happen to Dolly will.”
“Dolly?” I look up at him. “Is that what they call her?”
“Yeah. Any girl they stream gets that name.”
“How many of these sessions have you watched?” Cathy asks softly. The pictures alone have left our lunch and dinners untouched in the takeout containers they were brought in.
“Too many,” Todd says with a frown. “But I got a solid hit this time on a location.” He minimizes the streaming screen and brings up a map. A red dot blinks at me.
“We should call Pierce.” Cathy already has her phone in her hands.
I swipe my fingers over the screen to enlarge the map. “This is two counties over. We need to call the PD for Skokie too.”
“Yes, sir. No…I’m aware…it’s just…” Cathy gives me a wild-eyed look. “Todd has a hit on the location. We need to call over to—I’m sorry, what?” She scowls.
It’s tempting to pull the phone from her and get on the call myself, but she can handle herself.
“Yes, I’ll send the address to you right now.” She ends the call and heaves an annoyed sigh. I’ve heard her do that after a long call with her daughter where nothing Cathy said got through to her.
“What?” I ask.
Crackling, then soft thumps, like a microphone being adjusted, come from the computer.
“They started.” Todd moves the map to the side of the screen, and Abigail fills the other half.